He lowered the washcloth. A teasing glint entered his eyes. “Are you offering to join me?”
My face heated, my tone turning sarcastic. “No. I was just offering to help you. If you’re still dizzy, I don’t want you passing out and hitting your head in the shower. Because I won’t be able to lift you out.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Jeez, lighten up, girl. Can’t a guy joke around with you without getting his head bit off?” He dabbed at the wound again, his gaze meeting mine in the mirror. “I’m not dizzy. I’m perfectly capable of showering on my own. But you’re welcome to join me in the shower anytime.” He waggled his brows suggestively.
I turned away with a snort, shaking my head. He was such a flirt. His soft chuckle followed after me, making me grin. He definitely must be feeling better if the flirt was back. Lord help me, how was I going to be able to resist this man?
I waited in the bedroom while he got in the shower. I probably needed to shower too, but I would wait until he was done. There was no way I was joining him in there.
About ten minutes later, the bathroom door jerked open and steam floated into the room. Ryan stepped out, dressed in nothing but a white towel that was draped around his lean hips.
Holy moly.
My breath caught.
His dark hair was damp and disheveled, so sexy. I tried not to stare. Honest. But Lord, he was built. His arms were hard and muscular, the right arm ending just beneath his elbow. It looked just as strong as the left, even though a third of it was gone. He must work out. A lot. His torso was corded with muscles that gleamed with water droplets. His chest was smooth with no hair. I liked that. I wasn’t a fan of hairy chests. Smooth, hairless chests were extremely sexy. While there was no hair on his chest, a thin trail of dark hair began beneath his navel and disappeared into the towel.
A treasure trail. That’s what my friends and I had called it in high school. A trail that led to the great bounty. I could only imagine what “treasure” was hiding beneath Ryan’s towel, given the impressiveness of his physique.
Heat flushed into my face.
God, Liz, what are you, sixteen?
I jerked my gaze down, noting his strong, muscular legs and feet. Even his legs were sexy, masculine, dusted with dark hair. He was too beautiful to be real. Yet he was.
I turned away, flustered, averting my eyes.
He strode into the room and unzipped his duffle bag, pulling out clean clothes with his left arm.
“Is it, uh, difficult to do things with one hand?” My face grew hotter. What kind of stupid question is that, Liz?
He lifted his head, his gaze meeting mine. “It was in the beginning, right after my hand got blown off, but I adapted.”
Dear God, his hand had been blown off?
“Here.” He tossed a blue sweatshirt and a pair of gray sweats at me. “Until we can get you some clothes, you can wear some of mine. Go ahead and shower. I probably should have let you go first. I apologize. That wasn’t very gentlemanly of me. When you get out, you can stitch up my face. I would do it myself, but my prosthetic isn’t that technical. You think you can handle it?”
“Yeah.” I would certainly try.
He sat on the edge of the bed and reached for a pair of boxers. I jerked my gaze away and hurried into the bathroom before that towel came off, closing and locking the door behind me.
I leaned against the door, the breath I’d been holding whooshing out of me in a rush. Get a grip, Liz. It’s not like you’ve never seen a near-naked man before.
No, but I’ve never seen one built like him.
I flushed again.
I showered quickly, dried off, then dressed in the too-large clothes he’d given me, rolling up the legs of the pants and the arms of the sleeves. I untangled my hair with the comb Ryan had left sitting near the sink. His clothes were more comfortable than my blouse and skirt, and they were clean, not splattered with blood and dirt. And I liked the way they smelled.
Like fabric softener, and him.
I opened the door and stepped out into the room.
Ryan was sitting on the bed, talking on his phone, fully dressed in another pair of gray sweats and sweatshirt. But I’d seen that splendid masculine body. All those gorgeous muscles. The man had a bod that would make any woman drool. He was simply glorious. His gaze raked over me as I paused in the bathroom doorway. His eyes heated, his gaze coming back to rest on mine.
I couldn’t look away, held captive by those unusual amber eyes that stared at me with a fierce hunger that made my pulse race. Heat spread from the top of my scalp clear to the tips of my toes. He couldn’t seriously want plain ole me, could he?
“Yeah,” he said into the phone, and I jolted as if he’d answered my ridiculous thought. Then he turned his head away, breaking the spell. “I figured you did. We’re fine. Got a room in Lawton.” He paused. “Yes, I know that. But I was passed out and Liz was driving. I think I have a concussion. There’s a big bump on my head and it throbs like a son-of-a-bitch. She took me to the closest place that had a hotel.” Another pause. “No. My car is totaled. We’re in the Company’s vehicle. Yeah, I know. It’s got a GPS tracker in it. We need to ditch it ASAP. Tomorrow I’ll go buy another car.” He snorted at whatever the other person said. “No more Lamborghinis. That was an impulse buy. This time I’ll get something less flashy.” He turned back to me, his gaze raking over me again. What did he think of me dressed in his too-large clothes? The heat in his eyes said he liked it very much, and that made my pulse skyrocket even more. I swallowed nervously and lowered my gaze.
“Okay,” he said into the phone. “Watch your back and we’ll check in with you later and figure out a plan. Someone’s going to have to get my mother to a safe place until we deal with Ellington. Tell the other dregs I’m fine. Thanks. Later.” He stuffed his phone in the pocket of his sweatpants and rose from the bed, coming toward me. I barely resisted the urge to back away.
“I need to ditch the SUV. You stay here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He was leaving right now? “But, you have a concussion. Are you sure you can drive?”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll drop it off on the other side of town, then I’ll hurry back on foot.”
My eyes widened at that. “On foot? Why not take a taxi?”
“I’m used to staying under the radar. It was a major part of my training. Trust me, the less people I make contact with, the better. Besides, I can run a fast couple of miles. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Part of his training? What did he mean? And I’d just bet he could run fast. I grew hot thinking about watching him run.
He tossed his duffle bag onto the bed, then dumped all the contents out.
I eyed him curiously. “What are you doing?”
“You transferred my weapons from my car earlier. Correct?” At my nod, he continued, “I need to bring them in from the SUV, and I’ll need something to hide them in.”
“Oh.” Of course. The guns. If people saw him carrying guns, they would freak out and call the cops, so he needed to hide them in the duffle bag so no one would see them.
“I’ll be right back.”
He went out with the duffle bag, pulling the door shut behind him.
Five minutes later he was back, hefting the duffle bag full of weapons onto the bed. He checked the clip on a black handgun before stuffing it into the waistband of his sweatpants. His cheek had opened up again and the wound was slowly oozing blood.
“Your face is bleeding again,” I said unnecessarily. I went into the bathroom and returned with a wad of toilet paper, holding it out to him.
He took it from me, pressing it against the wound. “I need to ditch the car first. I’ll deal with the wound when I get back.” He turned toward the door. “Three knocks means it’s me. Don’t open the door for anyone else.”
I was suddenly nervous about being alone. I felt safe with Ryan, which surprised me. The man was obviously dangerous.
He’s Glenda’s son.
And he saved you tonight. He’s obviously had some type of military or law enforcement training.
He’s a super soldier.
Moments later, he was gone, the door closing with a quiet click.
Silence caved in around me, suffocating. I began to pace across the room, back and forth, my nerves jittery. How long would he be gone? What if something happened to him while he was out there? What if those thugs found him?
What if those people had already tracked us here? What if they were outside waiting?
What if they attacked while Ryan was gone?
What if they broke into the room and killed me?
Get a grip, Liz. Chill out. Relax.
I snatched my purse up from where I’d set it on the nightstand and pulled my phone out.
11:45 p.m.
My mother had taught me that bad things always happen after dark. I think it was her way of keeping me inside and away from danger while I was a child. For the most part, it had worked. For the longest time, I’d been too afraid to be outside after the sun went down. Now I knew from experience that bad things could happen at any time of day. Or night.
Stop scaring yourself, Liz. Ryan will be back.
I got up from the bed and began to pace again, returning to my phone every couple of minutes to check the time.
11:48 p.m.
11:55 p.m.
12:03 a.m.
What was taking so long? Where was he? This town wasn’t that big. How fast could he run? He should have been back by now. Right?
Depends on how far away he parked the car, Liz. If it was several miles, then it could be twenty or thirty minutes before he gets back.
12:15 a.m.
12:23 a.m.
I set the phone back down.
Rap. Rap. Rap.
I jumped, spinning toward the door, my heart thudding.
He was back.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Liz
I unlocked the door and Ryan strolled in, his gaze cautious. “Everything go okay?”
I nodded, my gaze raking over him, so happy to see him that it was all I could do to keep from flinging myself in his arms. I was embarrassed to admit how scared I’d been while he was gone. The wound on his cheek had dried up again. But it really needed to be sewn up.
His gaze searched mine. As if he’d read my mind, he asked, “Ready to sew me up now?”
“Yes. I think so.”
He turned around and snatched up the medical bag from off the floor, setting it on the bed. He opened the bag and removed a packet of sutures, an alcohol wipe, and scissors. Then he sat on the bed and glanced over at me. “Come on, Liz. Don’t be shy. Stitch me up.”
I let out a soft laugh and came forward. I knew basic first aid like most people, but I’d never stitched up a wound before. I won’t deny I was nervous.
“Don’t worry. I can take it.” He smiled at me as I paused before him, and there was genuine warmth in his eyes. “But be gentle with me, Liz. I know you don’t like me, but don’t beat on a guy when he’s down, all right?”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not a mean person. I would never beat on someone when he’s down. And I never said I didn’t like you.” I motioned to the bed. “Scoot over. I won’t be able to reach you unless you give me some room.”
He slid over, eyeing me with a smirk, shoving aside the clothes he’d dumped out of his bag earlier. “Bossy…I like a girl who takes charge. If you want to boss me around on the bed later, I’m game.” He winked.
That made me laugh and shake my head. He was such a flirt.
He eyed me intently while I knelt on the edge of the bed and opened an alcohol wipe. Leaning over him, I gently dabbed at the wound, wiping the dried blood away. He sucked in a breath, scrunching his face. “Ouch, woman! I said not to beat on me while I’m hurt.”
I jerked back. “Sorry.” I glanced into his eyes, saw the teasing glint, then smacked his arm. “You tease!”
“No,” he said softly, his voice turning husky. “You’re the tease.”
I pulled my gaze away as heat stabbed in my core. The air changed, thickening with sexual tension. Now he’d made me even more nervous. My hand shook as I dabbed at the wound again, doing my best to avoid his eyes. But I felt his gaze on me. Steady. Probing. I pressed the wipe against the wound again, probably harder than I should have. He hissed, his hand coming up to wrap around my wrist.
I froze, my gaze darting back to his. “Sorry,” I murmured. “That was an accident. But you’re going to have to hold still and be quiet while I do the stitches, or you’ll have a Frankenstein scar on your cheek.”
I was trying to be funny, trying to lighten the tension in the air, but when his eyes darkened to hot pools of amber, and his hand tightened around my wrist, my breath literally caught in my throat.
“Would you date a man with a scar on his cheek?” he asked softy, his gaze skewering mine.
I pulled on my wrist. “What does that have to do with anything? Ryan…let me go.”
He released me, and the breath whooshed out of me in relief. I turned away to grab the sutures, my heart thundering and my hand shaking once again. Damn him. He unnerved me. I wish he would stop. This would be easier if he acted like I was the nerdy girl he wasn’t interested in. Because he couldn’t seriously be interested in me. And that hurt deep down. Despite my better judgment, I was becoming way too interested in him.
He was silent while I removed a suture from the packet and turned back to him.
“Would you?” he repeated. “Date a man with scars? Honestly?”
Was he referring to all the scars I’d seen on his body? While he had plenty, they hadn’t detracted from his male beauty at all. In my mind, the scars only added to his sex appeal. Each one a mark of his will to survive. This man was a fighter. A warrior.
I puffed out a breath and forced myself to look into his eyes. “Yes, I would. Outer appearances are just that—appearances. I see scars as a mark of strength. Of courage. It’s what’s inside, what’s underneath, that truly counts.”
He didn’t respond to that, but I felt that intense gaze on me as I dabbed at the wound once more, then lifted the suture. “Okay, brace yourself. Here goes…”
His lips twitched. “Shouldn’t that be my line? Brace yourself…” He waggled his brows.
I choked out a laugh, jerking back, my face scalding hot. “Stop it,” I chided. “I almost stabbed you with this.”
He sniggered. “Oh baby, I’ve got something I want to stab you with…”
I smacked his arm, turning away as a wave of heat shot straight to my core. I was so embarrassed, so turned on, I could barely breathe. Oh my God! How was I supposed to do this if he wouldn’t stop with sexual innuendos?
He chuckled softly. “Sorry. I can’t help it. You’re so fun to play with, Liz. Lighten up, girl.”
Despite my embarrassment, I did like it. I liked that this gorgeous man was flirting with me. But was he being real? Or just playing a game? Ryan was fun, and dammit, I liked him. When had my dislike and distrust turned into like? True like?
I huffed. “Then stop with the teasing or we’ll be here all night.”
He straightened and grew serious. “Okay. Stitch me up.”
He remained perfectly still as I leaned over and gently worked the suture into his cheek, pulling it through to the other side. I held my breath until the thread pulled through, then slowly puffed my breath back out. I did it. The first stitch looked okay. I didn’t dare look into his eyes as I ran four more stitches through his cheek, gently pulling them together, then tied the end and cut it with the scissors.
“There.” I finally let myself look into his eyes. “Sorry about that. I tried to be gentle. Does it hurt?”
“It stings a little.” His gaze darkened as it held mine. “But another part of me hurts much worse. It’s throbbing for you, Liz, aching for your touch.”
It took a moment for his words to register. Oh my God! Was he teasing or being serious? My gaze darted unwillingly t
o the front of his sweatpants and the bulge that greeted me there. I gulped, rearing back, my face flaming with embarrassment. There was definitely a treasure waiting for me there if I wanted to explore it.
His hand snaked out, wrapping around my wrist again. With a gentle pull, he yanked me into him. I gasped, my hands flying out to press against his chest. He wrapped his arm around me, anchoring me still.
“I need you to cure my ache, Liz.” He stared into my eyes, the heat of his gaze scorching me clear to the depths of my soul.
I swallowed hard, unable to look way. “Ryan, please…stop it. This isn’t funny. Let me go.”
“I wasn’t being funny.” His gaze smoldered into mine. “I ache for you, Liz.”
Oh God. I squeezed my eyes shut as heat flamed inside me, centering at my core. Hot. Throbbing. Aching.
I ache for you, Liz.
My breaths grew shallow. My heart thundered like a galloping herd of buffalo. My skin heated, becoming hypersensitive. His chest was warm and hard beneath my hands. So masculine. So real. So sexy. My fingers itched to trace over those muscles, to touch his bare skin.
“Liz,” he whispered. “Look at me.”
I drew in a deep breath and slowly opened my eyes. He reached for my glasses, gently plucking them off my nose and setting them on the bed.
“Remember when I said I wanted to prove something to you?”
I nodded, staring up into his eyes. A mixture of anticipation and nervousness swept through me. What did he want to prove?
Push him away, Liz. You’re sitting almost in his lap. On the bed, of all places. You know where this will lead.
His gaze softened. “This is what I wanted to prove to you. You don’t need your glasses to see me. All you need to do is feel me. Relax, Liz. Let yourself feel.”
Slowly, cautiously, he lowered his head, his gaze never leaving mine. He was going to kiss me! Oh God. If he kissed me, I would give in to him. I wouldn’t be able to resist him. But oh, how I wanted him to kiss me.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” he asked, his mouth mere centimeters from mine. He pressed a light kiss to the corner of my mouth. “So sexy.”
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