“It needs to be cleaned up,” he answered. “It might get infected if it’s not already. The cuts are deep. They’re worse than I thought.”
“I don’t want a doctor,” I told him quickly. “Can you do it yourself? Please, Hunt. I really don’t want some stranger to look me over.”
He looked up at me, frowning. “I gotta get back, Skye.”
“Now or in thirty minutes, will it even make a difference?”
He let out a slow breath and shook his head. “It won’t.”
He left the bathroom for several minutes. I heard him asking Shane for a first aid kit, and then he was back. “Take your shirt off. We need to give you a rinse first.”
I pulled the shirt over my head and dropped it on the ground. Hunter undressed too, and then he was picking me up against his naked frame and stepping into the large shower stall. He washed me quickly with shower wash, his face unreadable, his eyes hardly meeting mine. I dropped my head to his chest as he ran his hand over my legs, squeezing at the calves. I let out a heavy breath as he loosened the tense muscles there.
His hand ran up my legs until he was between them. I pulled back to look up at him as he ran his fingers through the folds of my pussy. He stared down at me, his jaw locked tight. His eyes grew heavy, and there was a merciless edge in them as he washed me there. There was nothing sexual about his touch; rather, it was possessive. With just his touch, he was silently proclaiming, “I have every right to this.”
And yes, at the core of my being, I’d have bent to him willingly. I’d have responded, “You do. You really fucking do.”
But instead of demanding more of me the way that dark part of me yearned, Hunter pulled back. He reclaimed the boundaries, as though some inner part of him was in his ear, demanding he put them there.
He rinsed the soap suds from my body and boy did it sting. Then he stepped out. He wrapped me up in a towel and took me into the bedroom where he set me down on the edge of the bed. Still naked and dripping, he knelt down and began treating my feet with the first aid kit that was on the bed. He rubbed ointment into the cuts and wrapped gauze around them. Then he went into Leo’s closet and emerged with a plain t-shirt. He helped me into it, and then went stiff as he stood there, staring down at me. I studied his tight expression, unsure of what caused him to still. But then his nose wrinkled like he smelled something he didn’t like; before I could watch him further, he whipped away from me, and retreated back into the bathroom.
I inhaled the sudden scent around me. I grabbed at the collar of my shirt, the source of the smell and brought it to my nose. I immediately thought of Leo because it was his scent, and Hunter didn’t seem to like it.
When Hunter finally stepped out, he was dressed in his shirt and jeans. His wet hair was in disarray, like he’d ran his fingers through it a dozen times.
“Get some rest,” he told me quietly. “We’ll be back later.”
He hurried out of the room, and I sat still, unmoving as I heard him move around the apartment. He spoke to Shane for a few minutes, and then I heard the front door close.
Total quiet invaded the room, and it was so overbearing, like it was loud somehow.
Thankfully, more rain fell, pelting the windows, the white noise needed. My mind was in chaos. My thoughts zipped around me, clashing; I couldn’t focus on one.
I slipped under the covers and buried myself in Leo’s bed.