Page 19 of Risks of Temptation

"May I take care of your scrapes?"

"I don't have any." These women have been in a pit for a long time and have more critical issues than my measly scrapes.

He drags his finger near some scratches from the jungle. "You do. I'd feel better if you let me clean them, ma belle."

I try not to squirm from the tingles racing up my arm. "Okay."

"Tell me if it hurts at any time." He gently wipes the dirt and blood off my arm.

Lime and leather. That's what he smells like.

So sexy.

I inhale deeply.

He freezes. "You okay?"

"Ummm...yeah."

His eyes drill into mine. Different grays pool together into a barely blue shade.

I've never seen eyes like his before. There's something kind and thoughtful about them but also a sense of danger. It's not the typical danger, where I feel he might hurt me. But there is no doubt about it. He's dangerous. I see it clearly.

And I'm attracted to it. It slaps me in the face and takes me by surprise.

Little, meek me, who everyone thinks is a weakling and treats as such, who usually runs as far away from anything representing the hint of not being safe, is one hundred percent drawn to him.

Is it him or the danger?

He is danger. It's both.

I can't be sure if what I'm seeing is only a representation of him being a rescue stud who willingly risks his life to save those whom he's never even met, or something else. My gut is telling me it's something more profound than what everyone else sees.

When he tears his eyes away, my breathing is heavy again. My breasts rise and fall faster, and I catch him glance at them, pause for a moment, then take a deep breath himself before focusing on my arm again. His expression changes. The tension in his jaw increases.

"Almost done," he mumbles and turns my arm slightly then freezes. His eyes lock on mine again. "Who bruised you?"

"What?" I look down. He has my sleeve moved up, and finger marks cover the inside of my biceps.

"Tell me what happened, ma belle." His voice is low, but the rage can't be missed.

Shame fills me. It's no different than how I feel about what Zaka did to me over twenty years ago.

Malin doesn't wait for me to answer. He shoves the other sleeve up and growls.

It's worse than my other side.

"Please tell me what happened."

Tears fill my eyes. I blink hard, willing myself, for once, not to cry and be the weak girl I always am. But I fail. "I don't... I can't..."

He swipes his finger on my cheek. "Okay. We will talk later about this."

I close my eyes and nod.

He leans closer. His breath hits my collarbone, and I shiver. "Where else did they bruise you?"

My stomach and back. I'm pretty sure my breasts.