Murder_ A Sinful Secrets Romance - Ella James Page 0,28

and reserved. Removed.

“Why don’t you let me?” I say in my new, faux calm, assertive tone. “I can see the area better than you can. In a minute I can use some gauze to dry around the wound and then I’ll glue it and be gone.”

He frowns, and I think I see one of his cheeks pull in a little, as if he’s biting the inside of it. That draws my attention to his lips. Dear baby Jesus, they look even more plump in the bathroom light. Perfect, succulent, and somehow very masculine, surrounded by that shadow on his chin and cheeks.

His tongue rolls out along the lower lip, and I have to look away. I see a towel on the counter—wet already.

“Is this…” I reach for it, stepping away from him—thank God.

“That one is fine.”

I wet it while he sits there, gaze trained on his hands again. I notice blood on his fingers and pass him the towel. “Here—I’ll get another one for your hair.”

To the right of the long countertop, there’s a bank of cabinets. I find a few more towels there and set all but the washcloth on the countertop beside his first aid kit. As I stand back at the sink, waiting for warm water, it strikes me how strange this whole thing is—in addition to awkward, painful, and humiliating.

I don’t even know his name. I attacked him. I attacked my brand new neighbor. The neighbor that saved my business by purchasing this place. I kicked him in the head while he was out hunting. Now I’ve burst into his house and forced my nursing assistance on him. I’m overwhelmed by the company of a male human and worried about ruining my panties because he’s so breathtakingly attractive.

I wonder what the hell he thinks of me. Probably that I’m mentally unstable. Or worse…the pathetic handicapped woman who has nothing else to do but push herself on strangers.

I can feel his eyes on me as I hold the towel under the warm water, but I don’t meet them. I’m far too embarrassed. When my towel is warm and wet, I return to stand beside him. He tilts his head slightly rightward, so I have better access to the gash, and as he does, I notice the thick, pink rope of scar tissue atop his left shoulder blade.

“Mm.” I don’t mean to make a sound; the murmur escapes me.

His eyes rise to mine in the mirror, his sharp brows notching slightly.

“Sorry.” My fingertip hovers over the scar for a moment before I stroke some hair about two inches from his wound, gathering the stiff curls in one hand and using the warm towel to clean them. His head is down again, so I can’t see his face.

What is that huge scar from? I break my self-imposed no-looking rule and sneak another peek at it, finding that it actually starts up by his neck and twines over his left shoulder, down his shoulder blade. It’s so thick and jagged.

Not your business.

I try to settle my attention on his hair.

“You have really pretty hair,” I murmur. I figure the least I can do is be polite and try to put the man at ease. “You know what’s funny?” I ask, rubbing the wash cloth over a handful of curls. “I don’t think I even know your name.”

“Barrett.” The word is warm and rumbling. I notice the presence of the “t”s on the end and realize he’s not from around here, not from anywhere below the Mason-Dixon Line.

“Anyone ever call you Bear?” I ask him, teasing.

“Yeah.”

I release the hair in my left hand and take another section of wet curls, and when it’s clear he’s not going to expound on his nickname, I say, “I’m sorry I’ve put you in a position to need Bear rehab. In all my years of doing taekwondo, I’ve never hurt someone like this. I think— I guess you scared me. Like I said.”

He’s silent, still, although I feel his shoulders tense. My eyes run down them—I can’t seem to help it—and I notice the ink covering most of the right one: a black emblem featuring a sword. It looks military-ish.

Oh Lord. If he got his head injury in the Army, I’m sure all he needs is to have it split open again so he can be reminded of the circumstances.

I blow out the breath I’m holding. Just get this done and go. I rake my fingers down his nape. “I think I need to glue