Page 30 of The FBI Agents Who Stole Me

“You’re staring,” he says without looking up.

“I’m bored,” I reply. Huge lie. I was staring. Julian is hard to look away from.

He smiles faintly, the corner of his mouth lifting like he’s indulging me.

“I can think of some things we can do to pass the time.”

“As if,” I quip.

I totally would though. Even though the dick drugged me and brought me to a cabin in the middle of a forest that is absolutely populated by wolves, no matter what he claims. Julian swore there were no wolves in this area. But obviously, his credibility is questionable.

Jasper brushes past my ankles then jumps on the windowsill.

Julian must have raised the blinds for him. That was… nice. He’s still on my shit list.

I reach for the cabinet above the sink, stretching just enough that my elbow bumps the stack of plates Julian set out earlier. One slips, clattering against the counter before shattering against the tile floor. The sharp crack makes me jump.

“Shit.” I step back too fast and lose my balance. My hands fly out to catch myself, but I still land hard on my ass.

A sliver of pain blooms across my palm. I look down to see a thin line of red welling across my skin.

Julian is already there. He takes my wrist in his hand, steady and warm, turning it gently to inspect the cut.

“Hold still,” he says, calm but focused.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s bleeding.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“Yes,” he replies, eyes still on my hand, “and you probably ignored those too.”

I shrug. He’s got me there.

“Don’t stand. You don’t have shoes on.” Before I can argue, he hauls me up against his chest.

I squeal when he scoops me up off the floor. He's really strong, but I will not let him know I’m impressed.

He carries me bridal style to the table and presses me into one of the chairs. Then he disappears into the bathroom and comes back with a small medical kit, already opening it as he sits across from me. He cleans the cut carefully, and I stare at the way his dark lashes touch his cheek when he looks down.

Julian is made for this. Helping people, healing them, and saving them, even when they never asked him to.

I hiss softly when the antiseptic seeps into the cut.

“That was unnecessary,” I say.

“Sorry, babydoll.”

My core seizes when he calls me that. I missed it. I miss him.

“You told me to leave,” I whisper, and my voice wobbles. “The night I came to you after Elliot ended things. I should have told you why I showed up at your door.”

He looks up into my eyes. Hurt and regret shine through them.

“I knew,” he says.

My throat tightens. “You knew?”