Elizabeth blinked. Out of her jeans? “No,” she snapped hoarsely. The wound was high on her thigh, several inches above her knee and to the side. There wasn’t a chance in hell…
“Don’t make me cut them off you, Elizabeth.” He sighed, staring down at her. “We’re both tired and both riding our tempers. If I don’t take care of this it could become infected and then you won’t have a chance of helping Cassie. Is that what you want?”
Her eyes narrowed. “That’s dirty,” she hissed.
His expression grew harder. “That’s the truth. Now take the jeans off, before I take them off for you.”
His hands went for the snap. She slapped them back, almost laughing at the look of startled surprise that flashed across his face. His eyes narrowed, the dark golden-brown depths glittering in determination.
“Fine,” she muttered, sliding off the counter, thankful her T-shirt was at least long enough to cover what was most important. “I’m starting to think you’re too bossy, though.”
He grunted. He didn’t say a word, but the sound held a wealth of male superiority. She flashed him a resentful look as she eased the jeans down, biting her lip as the material scraped over the wound.
“Up.” He gripped her h*ps and lifted her back to the counter; the jeans still hung at her knees. “You forgot your shoes.”
Elizabeth forgot her sanity. He lifted her foot, propping it on his thigh and unlacing the cheap sneaker carefully. His long hair feathered forward, the roughened, damp strands caressing her upper knee as he removed the shoe. He shifted to the next, his hair stroking the skin over her other knee as he removed it as well. Her whole body flushed.
Had a man ever affected her this deeply? Had one ever made her long to just touch him, to just stroke his flesh and revel in the feel of it?
As the last shoe fell to the floor, his hands—amazingly gentle hands—pulled the material from her legs, his head rising, his eyes meeting hers as he undressed her. The heat she saw there took her breath. It made his eyes lighter, appear almost amber rather than dark honey. His high cheekbones flushed, his lips becoming heavy with sensuality.
“Shouldn’t need stitches,” he whispered hoarsely as he checked the line of raw flesh. “You were lucky, baby.” The endearment sent a shaft of heat vibrating through her vagina and into her womb. He opened the first aid kit and took several items out, though she had no idea what they were.
“This will hurt,” he whispered and she saw his eyes blaze in fury at the thought. “I need to disinfect it, then cover it so you can shower.”
She was entranced by his face, his expression. It was savage, so filled with hunger it took her breath and almost made her forget the pain in her leg.
“I cleaned it. At the diner,” she said nervously, tucking her hair behind her ear before gripping the edge of the counter desperately. “It’s not too bad. It stopped bleeding.”
He shifted in his chair, his broad, calloused hands probing at the wound as she grit her teeth at the feel of his fingers against her skin. They were so warm, gentle.
“I killed that bastard for this alone,” he whispered shockingly, causing her heart to race in her chest.
“And I would do it again, Elizabeth.” He raised his gaze, watching her closely. “It wouldn’t matter who it was. I’ll kill them before I allow them to ever hurt you or Cassie again.”
He glanced back down at her leg before moving to his feet. She tried to ignore the tenting of the soft fleece of his pants. She really did. But he was huge. He ignored his own arousal, though. Removing a bottle of antiseptic from the kit, he dampened a large square of gauze before turning back to her. His eyes were filled with pain. “I hate seeing you hurt, Elizabeth,” he whispered. “I can’t bear it.”
She would have reassured him. Would have told him how she had doused it herself with alcohol in the diner if he hadn’t shocked her past speech.
His lips covered hers as he laid the gauze on her leg. Fiery pain shot through her flesh as his lips swallowed her cry, then replaced it with such amazing sensation she wanted to whimper in return. He licked her lips. He didn’t steal her kiss. He didn’t take it. He cajoled it from her. His tongue swiped over the curves, pressed gently at the seam, licked at her heatedly until she opened her lips and allowed him entrance.
Did he growl? A short, rough sound echoed in his chest as his hand fell away from the gauze, both arms coming around her, pulling her against him, his lips slanting over hers as he began to feed from her mouth. There was no other way to describe it.
His c**k was a length of hot steel pressing against her suddenly fiery pu**y as he kissed her. It ground against her clit, made her body moisten, made her feminine cream slide free of her vagina and saturate her panties. He had to feel it, even through the fleece of his pants, had to know she was wet, her body wild from his touch.
He nibbled at her lips, his tongue raking forcibly past them to conquer her mouth with hot, ecstatic licks and smooth thrusts. He dared her to return each caress. Challenged her to give as good as he gave. And Elizabeth was helpless against the ravaging onslaught.
His kiss tasted like midnight, dark and deep, frighteningly savage and yet with a power so seductive, she became lost within it. Her br**sts swelled, ached. Her ni**les poking demandingly against the cloth of her shirt as he moved his bare chest against them.
He didn’t take advantage of her arousal, though. Didn’t try to force more, though Elizabeth wondered if she would have had the strength to pull away from him. He held her against him, his arms contracting around her, hands stroking over her back as his tongue learned every secret of her mouth and urged her to return the favor.
It was seductive. Tempestuous. Given and taken in silence, with only the hard rasp of their breathing disturbing the air around them as he kissed her with a hunger only surpassed, maybe, by her own. His taste alone drove her to seek more made her greedy for each stroke of his tongue along hers. Her hands stroked over his shoulders, his hair, on fire to feel as much of his body as this stolen moment in time allowed her.
How long had it been since a man had touched her? How many nights had she lain awake dreaming of this man? Envisioning him coming to her, whispering his need for her, his hunger, offering her his strength and his heat. She gloried in it now. She stretched in his arms, rubbing against him, feeling his warmth seeping into her skin, heating the chill that had filled her for so long. They were both fighting for breath within minutes. Bodies strained to get closer, the air heating with a primitive lust that Elizabeth had no idea how to fight. She only knew how to arch closer to him, to feel the ache in her br**sts for the touch of his broad hands, the pulse in her pu**y for the thickness of his cock. To know she was alive. Finally, irrevocably alive and for one moment in time, a man had no other thought in his head than to touch her. To hold her. To…
“Momma. Momma, where are you?”
Cassie’s frightened voice was like ice flowing over her as Dash jerked away from her, struggling for breath as he turned way, obviously fighting to hide his erection in case Cassie came running into the hidden alcove.