Page 60 of Hunted

“West, you’re on guard duty. I’ll help once Darla patches me up.” I give her a little wink, and she huffs in annoyance.

“Come on, then.” This time I let her drag me out and into the bathroom where she runs the water and grabs a cloth and starts cleaning me up with gentle strokes. I watch her silently the whole time. Her nose scrunches in concentration and the level of seriousness she has at simply cleaning my knuckles is adorable.

It reminds me of a similar moment between us, many years ago.

“You know… This isn’t the first time you’ve cleaned blood off me.”

She huffs out a laugh, her eyes flicking to me in a moment of recognition before she looks back at my hand.

“I seem to remember you whining a lot more last time.”

“Well, I’ve grown up a lot since then.”

Her eyes dart to my feet before slowly trailing up my body. When her eyes meet mine, she swallows heavily before looking back at my hand. “I can see that,” she says so quietly I almost don’t hear her.

I watch her work on my hand as the tension thickens around us. Her tongue pokes out as she concentrates harder. It’s killing me not to pull her close and kiss the crap out of her right now.

Trying to figure out this whole friends first thing is killing me. I want her to be so much more than that. I wish we weren’t in the middle of such a messy situation right now. If we were back home, I’d ask her out properly, show her that I wanted more. Sometimes I think she wants more, too. But other times, I’m not sure if it isn’t just our shared past connecting us and she doesn’t feel any more for me than familiarity and friendship.

When my hand is clean, she checks the cupboard underneath but comes up empty-handed.

“There’s nothing there. I want to wrap it, though. Give me a second, wait here,” she orders as she quickly exits the bathroom. I take a look at myself in the mirror and see a few specks of blood on my face, and clothes. I quickly clean myself and as I’m drying my face, she comes back in with a clean shirt for me in one hand and…

“Is that a sock?” I ask, motioning to her other hand.

She shrugs, throwing my shirt over her shoulder as she reaches out and grabs my injured hand. “It’s the best I could come up with right now.”

She wraps it around my knuckles, and I have to admit, it’s a pretty good bandage substitute. I turn my hand over and flex my fingers. “Not bad.”

“I thought you’d want to change your shirt. I noticed some blood on it.” She holds up the other shirt and my heart warms at her thoughtfulness.

Instead of taking it, I pull off my stained shirt and toss it on the counter. A smirk pulls at my lips as her eyes roam my bare chest. Her cheeks start to grow pink, and I can’t help but whisper, “See something you like, darling?”

Her wide eyes dart up to mine in embarrassment, her cheeks growing redder by the second. “No! I wasn’t—I mean—yes, I do… but I wasn’t—I didn’t—”

I chuckle as I put on the clean shirt and start to button it up. “I like when you look at me like that,” I tell her honestly.

Her throat bobs as she stares at me. “Y-you do?”

I nod slowly as I tuck in my shirt. I decide to push a little further, to put myself out there a little more. “Uh-huh. It tells me you see me as more than a friend.”

She frowns as she argues, “I can appreciate the hotness of my friend without it meaning more.”

I step closer to her and lean down, my face is inches from hers as I whisper, “Is that what you were doing? Admiring my hotness?”

She nods, her eyes moving down to my shirt covered chest as if reminding herself of what I’ve covered up.

Using the crook of my finger, I lift her chin, so her eyes face me again. “Are you sure that’s all it was? You weren’t wondering what it’d be like to touch me? For me to touch you?”

She shakes her head, but her eyes betray her as they fill with need. I try to hold back my smile, but it’s difficult.

She wants me.

I can see it in the way her eyes heat and her breath catches at my words and my touch. When her eyes drop down to my lips, I swipe my tongue along my lower one before asking, “So you aren’t wondering what it’d be like to kiss me right now? Wondering how it would be after all these years?”

“I…” she trails off, seemingly unable to answer.

I lean forward but tilt my head to the side, her breath hitches in response to my proximity as I whisper into her ear, “Because I wonder that constantly. I wonder how soft your lips will feel, how you’d respond to me. I haven’t kissed a single person since you walked out of my life, because if I couldn’t have you, I didn’t want anyone.”