I leaned against the door, watching Lennox pace, filling the space even where his body didn’t touch. The room was only two by three meters, but he had a presence that filled every corner, whether you were in a ballroom or a closet.
“No matter how tight you think the security is, there are always ways. I didn’t see the second bomber, but I got a glimpse of the first guy. The man was dressed in a hotel chef’s jacket. He probably was planted here months ago.”
He paused, running his hand absently through his hair, before his gaze fell heavily on me, his nose wrinkling.
“Fuck. You’re bleeding bad.” He swiped his tie off the ground, stepping back to me. My muscles locked up as he leaned into me, gently pressing the silky fabric to my head. “Head wounds bleed like a bitch.”
I hissed through my teeth, the sting forcing me to bite down on my lip.
“You okay?” he uttered huskily, his gaze lowering to mine.
He was too close. Too much. “Yeah.” I tried to back away, flattening myself against the door, trying to ignore the way my heart thumped against my ribs.
“I really want to clean your wound before it gets too infected.”
“With what?” I took a moment to study the space. His flashlight exposed brooms, dirty mops, a wheelie mop bucket, and bottles of different cleaners lined on the floor against the wall. “Floor cleaner?”
“If I have to.” He shrugged. “Clorox isn’t the best, but it will have to do.” He motioned for me to sit.
“Bleach? You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope.” He crouched down, grabbing the white bottle of bleach.
“Hell no.”
“Why?” He glanced back at me. “Afraid of a little sting?”
“A little?” I scoffed.
“Never took you for a weenie.”
“Weenie?” I sputtered, the word sounding funny coming from his lips.
“Chicken better?” He tipped bleach on his silk tie. “It’s this, or I’ll have to cut off your head because it’s infected and festering.”
I snorted. My head was already beyond help. And it seemed more to do with him than the wound.
“I’ll let you torture me back.” He patted the ground. “Fair is fair.”
An evil grin turned up my mouth. “Now that sounds like fun.”
“Thought it might entice you.” He smirked, his gaze sliding over me and watching me lower to my knees in front of him.
“I will never miss an opportunity to torture you.”
A strange snort came from him, and he muttered, “Don’t I know it.” He reached up, his eyes finding mine. “Brace yourself.”
My jaw locked down, and I sat farther back on my heels as he patted around the wound.
Sizzling.
Agony.
“Holy mother bugger fucker!” I frothed through my teeth, my hands clamping down on his thighs, needing something to hold on to. My eyes instantly watered, the fumes sticking in my throat. “Bloody blighter.”
“Such a dirty mouth for a noble lady.” He sniggered, tapping closer to the cut.
“Fuck off, arsehole.” My nails dug into his firm legs, only making him laugh harder. I sucked in, trying not to pass out. I had many injuries over the years. A farm girl was always bruised, cut, or had some kind of lesion. I was tough. I’ve suffered broken bones, stitches, and sprains…and I would have them all again if I could forgo experiencing bleach being poured into an open wound.
“Ouch,” he yelped, my hands squeezing him harder. “Damn, Duchess. You’ve got a powerful grip there.”
“I hate you,” I seethed.
He only grinned.
“Payback will be such a bitch.” My teeth cracked together as he swiped over my hairline. Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up.
“I’m counting on it,” he replied. His voice was even, but my heart still loped sideways in my chest, sweat trickling down my back. It’s from the pain, Spencer. Not him.
He leaned in, my body going still as he blew softy on the cut. His breath ghosted over my skin, crawling down my neck and underneath the torn dress, flicking at my nipples.
Freezing, my throat bobbed at the rush of heat covering my skin.
“Done.” He inclined away from me, his brow furrowing at whatever he saw on my face. “You all right?”
“Yeah,” I croaked, taking the tie from him, my tongue sliding over my bottom lip. What was wrong with me? He was attractive, sure. Okay, some might say smoking hot, which still didn’t seem to do him justice. But normally someone’s looks faded in my eyes, their personality making them attractive or not. Why was I so flustered around him?
We had hated each other…at one time. When did that change?
“Hey.” He tipped his head, snatching up my attention. “Thought you’d be all over this part.”
“Right.” I forced the thoughts from my head, pouring bleach on the tie, rising on my knees.
“Do your worst.” He tilted up his face to me. The cuts below his eye and on his head were still moist from fresh blood.
I wiped the fabric across his cheek, and a deep grunt jolted his spine, his hands clamping down on my hips. “Fuuucck, it stings.” He huffed, his jaw twitching, clamping down each time I touched him. His nose flared, his forehead dampening. “I take it back.” Each word was a struggle. “You are not a weenie.”
“Thank you.” I smiled, trying to concentrate on my duty and not the way his large hands gripped my hips—possessively, intimately, like they were his to hold.
They feel so good. I bit down against the thoughts slipping through my head, the way my chest hummed when his fingers pressed into my skin, his pinkies skimming my ass.
Spencer. Stop.
Sucking in, I zeroed in on cleaning his wound, trying to get my mind off the way his hands felt on me, how close I was to his mouth.
“So…you and Hazel, huh?” Instead of sounding flippant or as a friend asking another, it came out awkward and strange.
Leave it to me.
He tilted his head. “What about Hazel?”
“Nothing. I mean, I saw her this morning.” I shrugged, moving to a cut near his temple.
“If you want to know something, Spencer, ask me.” He flinched as the cloth hit his fresh injury. “I don’t do passive shite.”
“It’s none of my business.”
“This is the second time you’ve brought it up. Clearly, something is bothering you. So just say it.”
“What? You two make a perfect couple…though Katy is going to be devastated.”
“Jesus.” He dropped his hands. Pushing away from me, he got to his feet, his features laced with ire. “Passive-aggressive does not suit you. Say what you want to say.”
I stood; the feeling he could see right through me had me scrambling to lock up my walls.
“There’s nothing to say. Though screwing Hazel when you’re in the palace, across from my room, supposedly watching me…kind of tacky.”
“I was off duty. Got you safely tucked in your bed. Not that you made it fuckin’ easy for me.” He tipped his head, a nerve twitching along his jaw. Another sliver of a memory slid to the back of my mind. Us at the club. Touching him. Wanting him. I was about to kiss him.