The Wedding Pact Box Set - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,382

me look at your foot.”

She shook her head no and captured his mouth again, her tongue searching out his.

He gently grabbed her wrists and pulled back. “Blair. I need to see your foot. You’re bleeding all over the sofa.”

She looked down at the bloodstained fabric. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care about the damned sofa. I care about you.” He stood and carried her into the kitchen, setting her on the counter as he’d originally intended. “Let me take a look.” He lifted her foot, cringing when he saw the jagged glass sticking out of her skin. “I think you should go to the E.R. You probably need stitches.”

“No. Just take out the glass, and we’ll put some gauze around it.”

She sounded more like herself, and he worried she’d close herself off even more now that she’d laid herself so bare. That was what she did. Offer herself however briefly, then retreat and run. Maybe she’d continue to expect him to give up on her, but every step forward was a victory, no matter how small, and he wasn’t giving up. He was there for the long haul.

“Blazer, this needs stitches. You need to go to the E.R.”

She grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and pulled him close. “I need you.”

She lifted her mouth to his, and he responded, dropping her foot and wrapping his arm around her back. He pulled her body flush with his, leaving no question about how much he wanted her, but he still needed to take care of her injury.

“Your foot first,” he said against her lips.

“No E.R.,” she murmured.

“Okay.” He forced himself to step back. Vulnerable Blair was still there, and he had to make sure she didn’t misunderstand his intentions. “But I get to play doctor before I ravage you.”

She sucked in a breath, her chest rising and falling. “Yes.”

He took another step back, trying to clear his head. The sight of her breasts stretching her blouse nearly made him forget she needed medical attention. “I need to get the first aid kit.”

Before she could stop him, he ran for the bathroom, grabbed the white plastic first aid box and hurried back to the kitchen. He stopped at the entrance as he saw the television screen. Blair was watching it too, tears filling her eyes again.

He grabbed the remote off the table and turned it off, then tossed it onto the sofa. He stared into her tear-streaked face. “I wasn’t on that plane. I’m here with you now.”

“You were supposed to be,” she whispered, sounding scared.

“But fate intervened, just like it intervened when Nana Ruby insisted I be a groomsman at my cousin’s wedding.” He stepped between her legs and cupped her cheek, tilting her head back to look up at him. “We’re meant to be together. Don’t you get it, Blair? We’re meant to be.”

Her chin quivered as she nodded.

He worked quickly on her foot, flinching with her when he pulled out the glass. The cut was deep, but she insisted she wouldn’t go to the hospital, so he closed it up with butterfly bandages, hoping to convince her later. After he’d wrapped it with gauze, he washed his hands and then got her a couple of ibuprofen and a glass of water.

“I think you’re going to need these,” he said.

She took them without complaint, then set the glass on the counter. “I need you more.” Her voice broke again as she tugged him closer, reaching for the buttons on his shirt.

“I’m yours, Blair,” he said with a ragged breath. “I’m always yours.”

He leaned down and kissed her gently, cradling the back of her head in his hand. He wanted her to know how precious she was to him.

But Blair had other ideas. She deepened the kiss, her tongue searching out his as she continued to unbutton his shirt. Then she pulled the shirt free from his pants. Her hands skimmed his chest, sending a bolt of electricity through his blood and straight to his groin.

Her mouth broke free from his and skimmed down his jaw, along the taut tendons of his neck, and down his chest. His hands rested on her waist, then slid up and under her breasts, his thumbs brushing her nipples over the lace of her bra.

She released a low moan as her teeth raked over his nipple.

“Bed. Now,” he grunted as he slid his hands underneath her ass, lifting her so she straddled his waist. He stopped and searched her face. “How’s your foot? You okay?”

“Shut up and kiss me,