Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
With a hiss, I dragged myself along the hallway to the master bedroom, crashing against the wall, marring it in red. Once in my bathroom, I flicked the light on and unbuttoned my dress shirt.
I was no pussy, but this was a serious knife injury. He went deep. I was surprised there wasn’t an exit point.
Sensing my need for privacy, my wife, who had never shown interest in spending time with me, appeared at my bathroom door. Now she wanted my company. She wore her pale hair in a messy bun, and a white satin babydoll that really brought out every delectable curve in her body.
“Now’s not a good time.” I popped the first aid kit open, lining up Betadine, tape, and gauze on the bathroom counter.
Through the mirror, I saw her examining the trail of blood I left behind, slack-jawed. Eh, so this was why she ventured here. Probably hoped to find me dead.
“Either use that open mouth to suck my cock or walk out of here and let me stitch myself in peace.” I kept applying pressure to my wound while unscrewing the Betadine spray with my teeth.
She loitered at the threshold, likely emboldened by the fact that I was too preoccupied to follow up on my threat. Blood slinked from between my fingers. I needed to call one of my soldiers on-site to assist me.
My wife continued to stare, nibbling on the dead skin around her thumbnail.
“Jesus fuck, Lila.” I swiveled toward her. “Get out. Don’t worry about the blood. I’ll send someone to clean that shit up.”
She grabbed my wrist, her sharp blue eyes dancing like cold fire.
She tugged me out of the bathroom. I didn’t have time for this nonsense, but something compelled me to humor her.
That something was more than likely my moronic dick.
She led me to my bed, where she put a gentle hand on my shoulder and eased me down, fluffing my pillows and laying me across the mattress.
Lila put her palm up, signaling me to wait, then ambled back to the bathroom. I heard the water in the sink running. She returned to the bed and flicked on my bedside lamp. I grunted as light flooded the room. My wife parked her pert little ass on the edge next to me, peeling my hand off the open wound.
Clutching my shoulder to keep me still, she used a wet, warm towel to wipe off the blood, then sprayed the shit out of the wound with Betadine. My nostrils flared, the burn eating away at my flesh like acid. “Bollocks.”
She gave me a disapproving glare to let me know she didn’t appreciate my language, then pressed clean gauze to it.
“Get more gauze and tape,” I bit out. “I’ll wrap it up.”
Her gaze dropped to my lips, like it always did. If she wanted a kiss, all she had to do was ask.
She shook her head adamantly, glaring at me as she motioned with her hands. At first, it looked like she was holding invisible cutlery. Then, I realized, she was mimicking suturing.
Something clicked in my brain.
She put me down for elevation, disinfected the wound, and was now draining it before…
Stitching me up?
What was she, a bleeding nurse now?
“If you don’t know how to stitch, knock on Tierney’s door down the hall. She’ll call for help.” Doubtful I had enough time, but I wasn’t in the mood to be poked a bunch of times.
Her eyebrows slammed together. She looked pissed off I doubted her abilities.
“Fine. There’s a suturing kit in the cabinet in the bathroom,” I groaned. “Don’t bother bringing the analgesic spray. I thrive on pain.”
She moseyed back into the en-suite bathroom. I followed her with my eyes, wondering how she was going to get out of this one.
She just revealed her entire hand to me. Not only did she not have any intellectual issues, she also knew how to treat potentially fatal wounds. Did she tend to her brothers like this? The thought of her touching other men—even her kin—made my skin crawl.
Lila returned. She removed the gauze and resprayed the wound to disinfect it, then used the needle driver to grab the needle. Her hands were steady, her breathing calm. Pushing the needle in a ninety-degree angle at the edge of my wound, she began stitching me up.
I stared at her face. She looked like an angel. One I’d very much like to stick my cock into. She sewed with stoic practicality. It was her eyes that gave her intelligence. They saw everything, and I wondered if they also noticed how out of my fucking depth I was where she was concerned.
She was everything I couldn’t control, and it drove me wild.
“How long are we going to do this song and dance for, Lila?” My gaze drifted down her satin babydoll, to those full, perky breasts and tight nipples. Down her flat stomach, to the junction where her panties were hidden by sun-kissed, slender thighs. “Where you pretend to be incapable and I pretend to buy it?”