Dash of Peril

She gave a heavy sigh. “Me, too.”

Needing a minute to get his head on straight, Dash said, “I’m going to go grab the flannel shirt Logan brought me. It’s big enough to fit over your splint and it’ll be easier to get on you than the T-shirt you chose.”

“The only button-up shirts I have are starched dress shirts.”

He tipped up her chin. “Sit tight. I’ll be right back.” With long strides he left the room to get the bag Logan had brought to him. The cat snored from his bed, oblivious to Dash’s presence. Outside, a weak sun tried to penetrate heavy clouds rolling in. Great, just what they didn’t need—more lousy weather. Work at the current job site would stall for a day or two. Not a big deal since they were right on schedule—a rare thing in the construction business.

After automatically double-checking that he’d secured the front door, he snagged up the bag and dug out the flannel shirt on his way back to Margo.

He found her sitting exactly where he’d left her. Going to his knees again in front of her, he braced himself for what he’d do. “Let’s get you out of this robe first, okay?”

“I’ll be naked.”

Dash put his hands on her hips, his thumbs brushing her thighs through the soft cotton of her robe. “I’ll be as fast as I can.”

“You’ll want me.”

He searched her face and didn’t see a single sign of modesty or timidity. “Already do, but right now I just want you to be comfortable.” He untied the belt.

“If you tell Logan or Reese, I’ll castrate you.”

Not so drugged that she couldn’t threaten him. For absurd reasons, that made him feel better. “You think I would?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a great judge of men. Some men,” she amended.

“You can trust me.” He eased the robe off her right shoulder and down her arm until she slipped her hand free.

His blood thickened, and it sounded in his tone when he added, “Believe me, Margo. I would never say or do anything to embarrass you.”

Goose bumps rose on her flesh.

“Are you cold?”

“No.”

Was being cold also considered a complaint? “I’m sorry.” Quicker now, Dash pushed back the material and, except for where the terry cloth draped one thigh and still covered her left arm, she was bare.

His gaze naturally went to her body. He was sympathetic, but not dead. Her uniforms and business suits did a great job of hiding her generous rack. Full, pale, with dusky mauve nipples. Only the bruises painted over her collarbone and shoulder kept him from touching her.

“Easy now.” Breathing more deeply, he stood to gently free her left arm.

Margo said not a word, but her face tightened, her brows pinching together, her lips compressed.

“You can groan, you know.” Dash hated seeing her suffer in silence. “You’re allowed.”

She gave one sharp shake of her head, composed to the bitter end.

To hell with that. “A groan or two won’t make you less sexy, especially when I can see your nipples.”

Nothing.

“They’re very pretty.”

She stiffened.

“And those dark curls between your legs—”

She jerked her head up to stare at him—and groaned in discomfort.

“That’s it.” The way she affected him was so strange, and so appealing. “No reason to hold it in.”

Groaning again, deeper this time, she said, “Damn you.”

The bite in her tone almost made him smile. “Be yourself with me, honey.”

“I am!”

“No, you’re manning up and it’s stupid. You aren’t a man, and you aren’t impervious to pain.” He picked up the flannel shirt but made no attempt to put it on her. He was a freaking saint, standing there before a gorgeous naked woman and still remembering his altruistic motives. “Or is that another family rule? No female attributes allowed?”

“It’s a weakness and there’s no point in advertising it.”

“Huh. Well, if it makes you feel better, I would be groaning.”

She shocked him by pushing to her feet and leaning into him, her splinted left arm caught between them, her right hand flattening on his chest, her fingers in his chest hair. “Kiss me.”

Whoa. He hadn’t expected such an aggressive assault, given her state. “I don’t think so.”

“It’ll make me feel better.”

But it’d kill him—since she couldn’t do anything beyond a simple kiss. “Not a good idea.”

“You don’t want me?”

“You already know I do—” When her hand snaked down his body to cup him through his jeans, he froze.

“Yes,” she said with purring satisfaction. “You do.”

Dash groaned as she cuddled him.

“Better,” she murmured. “Why don’t you groan and I’ll continue manning up.”

Jesus, even boggled with meds she was doing him in.

It took a lot to step back from her exploring hand, but Dash managed it. “I said no.” Her mercurial mood swings had him braced for anything.

But not for her to snuggle up against him. “You’re right, I am cold.”

A perfect segue. He allowed his arms to go around her, his hands to stroke down her silky back to that lush little bottom—God, she had a great ass—before he got it together and raised his hands to her waist, which really was still sexy enough to make him cramp. “Let’s get you dressed and in the bed so you can sleep.”