I’m also mortified, so I spin to face the desk. I don’t know if I can even meet his eyes, let alone answer the question.
No doubt Rory’s spent half his life beating women off with a stick. The yawning chasm between our sexual experiences fills me with a creeping sense of inadequacy.
Vocalizing any of this out loud would grind the remaining shreds of my dignity down to nothing, though.
Telling him anything other than the truth would require lying, and I am exceptionally bad at that.
Worst of all, admitting my inexperience will probably bring us back to last night, when he and I…mauled each other.
Nope.Can’t do this.
I don’t have it in me. End of story.
Rory’s body closes in around me, his hands coming to rest on either side of mine on the desk.
His heat and proximity scatter my mind like confetti.
I’m getting that stalked-prey sensation again.
A tidal wave of lust, prompted by the firm planes of his chest nestled snugly against my back, crashes through me.
Rory inhales a sharp breath, like a starving man savoring the scent of food for the first time in weeks. “Even after that chase you led me on, you smell delicious.”
I squirm, shocked by the way my nipples pebble from those words alone.
Is this it? Is this the moment where he bends me over the desk like in one of my mom’s office romances and screws me into the next year?
Do I want this to be it? Yes. No. Maybe. Yes.
I brace for his next move, blinking when a first aid kit appears next to my hand. Rory sidesteps out from behind me to stand at my side.
That’s not at all what I expected. I can’t tell if I’m disappointed or relieved.
Still, my gaze remains glued to the desk’s mahogany surface.
He opens the box and removes cleaning wipes and bandages.
“Give me your hand.” He’s back to cold and gruff.
“I’m fine. Just take me back to my room.”
“Give me your hand.” Rory softens his voice to the same velvety tone he used before his tongue ended up in my mouth. “Please.”
My heart trips and falls. I’m only human, and I guesspleaseis past the limit of what I can tolerate before I give him exactly what he wants.
That’swonderful to know.
When his big, warm palm wraps around mine, I feel the touch in every part of my body.
Gently holding my hand, he treats my cut and scraped fingers and slathers rubbing alcohol on my skin, which stingslike the devil. I dig my teeth into my cheek to keep from reacting. And then he bandages every place to the best of his ability.
The act is so tender that I pinch my eyes closed for a moment to absorb it.
No man has ever…patched me up, as he calls it.
And that’s sad, isn’t it? That I’m moved by the tender acts of a kidnapper all because no other man I’ve encountered in my life was ever this attentive to me.
Rory finishes his work in just a few minutes, but even once he’s done, he doesn’t release my hand.
