“Get him there. Find us a motel, something small and out of the way. I need to stop and tend to her wound better.”
“Okay, this guy’s name is Roman. A big, bad-ass motherfucker. I’ve met him.”
“That’s what I need. And Pippa’s sending you a couple more names. Run them through the system.”
After they ended the call, Pippa continued texting Josiah her information. Then Ross fished around behind the seat again and located the first-aid kit. “Open this,” he said, dropping it in her lap. “Poor some antiseptic on your wound. We can’t risk infection, and it’ll be a while before we stop.”
With a blank expression, she went about cleaning her gash, only wincing once.
“Good girl. Now wrap it in clean gauze.”
He’d felt helpless before—plenty of times on the ranch where they lost an animal or when he’d stood at his grandfather’s deathbed, knowing he couldn’t do a damn thing to keep him alive. But not being able to help Pippa with this small task for fear of being jumped again if he stopped hit a whole new level.
Their eyes met.
And he glanced away.
* * * * *
Watching two big, tough guys exchange a chin nod of greeting would send any woman with eyes and a pair of ovaries into a tizzy.
Ross led her past the big, buff dude with arms that could shred a man, and entered the small off-the-beaten-path motel with only six rooms—all of them vacant besides the one she and Ross had been given.
At Ross’s insistence, she leaned on him to take the weight off her leg. He closed the door, locked it, including the chain, dropped her bag and did a sweep of the room, checking in the bathroom and under the king-sized bed, and then walked back to her.
She stared at his hands. Images of his fists still curled after he stopped beating their attacker kept rising up in her mind.
She knew he was deadly, and now he’d proved it. He’d killed a man—for her. She should feel more sickened by the thought, and maybe she was in shock, but she could only believe the man attacking them knew what he was getting into when he took the job.
Who hired him?
“Sit down on the bed.” Ross’s order broke into her thoughts.
He helped her the two feet to the bed, and she sank to the stiff mattress covered in a striped bedspread.
“This place looks better on the inside than out,” she remarked.
He knelt in front of her and unzipped the first-aid bag again. When locating the antiseptic and gauze, she’d seen a lot of things in that bag that made her question what the Wyntons and their colleagues got themselves into. Vials of antibiotics, morphine syrettes, medical staples, tweezers and clamps. A tourniquet.
She issued a sigh that came out shakier than she felt.
Ross’s green eyes creased with worry. “I’m going to help you remove your jeans, honey.”
A flutter hit her stomach.
“It’s better to bandage your bare leg and then you can slide clean clothes on over it.”
“Of course.”
She’d already used the bathroom with him standing nearby. Getting naked in front of him was no big deal, right?
She hesitantly reached for her button and zipper. He busied himself removing items from the first-aid kit and laying them out on a big, sterile cloth, which he removed from a wrapper. She shifted to her feet in order to shimmy the denim over her hips.
Ross glanced up and then looked away.
She gave a nervous laugh. “Birthing hips.”
“What?” He stared at her.
“A friend in college called my hips birthing hips one time we changed in front of each other.”
He latched his gaze to her rounded hips, and the touch of his eyes scorched her. “Your friend’s a dumb shit. Your hips are perfect.”
She swallowed hard. He was only being a nice guy.
“You’re too tall to ever really carry weight, Pippa.” He shook his head and then removed his hat. When he set it next to her on the bed, she had a sudden urge to reach out and touch the white felt cloth which was an extension of Ross.
He helped her remove the jeans the rest of the way, careful when he reached the bullet graze on the back of her leg.
She inspected the wound along with him. “Have you ever been shot?”
His dark brows drew together. “No,” he gritted out. “And I’m damn sorry you did.”
Long seconds passed as he proceeded to examine the wound. Then he cleaned and bandaged it. When he withdrew one of the vials, he said, “You’re not allergic to penicillin, are you?”
“No.” She shucked the jacket she still wore and rolled up her sleeve, presenting her upper arm to him to inject. After the deed was done, they looked at each other.
“Good job. You didn’t even flinch.”
Now that she was safe for the moment and wasn’t in danger of dying of sepsis from her wound, something else happened—her stomach clenched in gnawing hunger.
One thought of that juicy burger dropped back in the parking lot and the tears started to flow.
“Jesus, honey. Fuck.” Still kneeling before her, he cupped her face. Brushed her hair off her forehead. “Are you in pain? I have something for that.”
She shook her head with a loud sniffle. “I lost my burger.”
“You…” He closed his eyes and opened them again. “At least it wasn’t your life, honey.”
Their stares met. The hunger inside her switched to a new kind—for Ross.
She threw herself at him.
His solid steel body felt warm, comforting, arousing…amazing.
Arms latched around his neck, she tipped her face for his kiss. A glimmer in his green eyes was his only hesitation before he claimed her lips.
Slamming his mouth over hers, he stood with her in his arms, settling on the bed with her legs draped over his lap as he intensified the kiss. He swept his tongue over the seam of her lips and plunged inside on her gasp.
Need battered her. She wiggled closer and stroked her tongue against his on the second pass. The low growl she raised in his chest set her on fire, and she angled her head to deepen the kiss.
He worked his fingers through her hair, loosening her bun. Each warm digit sent heat trickling over her scalp, down her neck to her breasts. Her nipples throbbed for his hands on them. His mouth on them.
He suddenly pulled back, his stare riveted on her. “Honey, this is wrong.”
“Does it feel wrong?” She couldn’t guess where this boldness sprang from. She certainly never guessed she’d talk to Ross Wynton this way a few days ago. Maybe just getting shot awakened her to the fact that life was short.
She brushed her lips back and forth over his. They appeared so hard yet felt so soft. So perfect. She could have low blood sugar because the blueberry bars wore off long ago, but she didn’t think that was the case. She wanted Ross—she always had. As a teen, she didn’t even know what she wanted from him—now she did.
Judging by the bulge of his cock, he no longer thought of her as that gawky little girl.
When she skated her mouth over his again, his growl erupted into a primal noise that had her body primed.
For him.
He twisted her in his arms and spread her on the bed. Bracing his weight overtop her, he gazed into her eyes. “This changes everything.”
“I don’t want to go back,” she whispered.