“Does the big, bad wolf need help shedding his t-shirt?” she taunted, just to make up for the fact that her hands were damp, and her panties were damper.
Fucking Blaze Hanson. How could he slay her just by existing? And why the heck had she ever agreed to this disaster date in the first place? Right. So he’d leave her alone after she was the one who propositioned him.
“If you wouldn’t mind. My arms are currently going through ten shades of hell.”
“So, it does hurt then? I thought you said it wasn’t bad.”
“It wasn’t bad before I bled all over these bandages and everything is crispy and stuck together now. I’m going to have to soak them off just so they don’t take an extra layer of skin off with them.”
Gross. Colette’s stomach sloshed like she’d been cast back into the middle of a violently churning ocean.
“Alright,” she breathed. She had to admit defeat because she wasn’t going to stand there and let him suffer. Or worse, rip skin off like he said and bleed all over the floor right in front of her.
Even if it meant getting close to Blaze. Feeling his body heat seep into her. Inhaling the scent of his body up close. Touching his skin.
Her stomach rocked and lurched again, but this time, it felt like the ocean had come to her and was lashing away at her. The sensation wasn’t entirely unpleasant, and she hated herself for it. For being affected. For falling under Blaze’s spell just like every other person with a uterus out there.
“Alright?” His mouth nearly dropped open.
“Yes, alright, but make it quick. And don’t try anything funny. This is for medical purposes only.”
Blaze kept a straight face, though she could tell it cost him. He looked like he was going to burst at the seams, trying not to mock her. His lips were practically thinned out into non-existence with the effort it took not to spew more of his verbal poison.
“I’ll lift my arms and you pull.”
She shook her head quickly. “No. I’m the one who gives the orders here.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“No.” She didn’t look up at his face. His mocking tone told her everything she needed to know. “I guess, put your arms up and I’ll work the shirt off. Can you get them up?”
“I never had a problem getting anything up.”
Just because he was an asshole, she tugged at his shirt before he was ready. He let out a muffled grunt, and lifted his arms, even though his breathing changed cadence and she could tell that it was painful for him, whether he wanted her to know it or not. All the crusted over wounds were probably breaking open. She didn’t envy him the job of having to scrub his arms clean.
Maybe if he wasn’t so cocky, he wouldn’t have crashed his quad. Maybe he wouldn’t have wrecked his arms. Maybe if he’d worn something sensible instead of trying to drive her mad with his veiny forearms, sleek muscle, and bronzed skin, his arms wouldn’t look like ground beef.
“You okay?” She was glad the cover of the shirt shielded her from Blaze’s face.
It did nothing to shield her from his body heat. She knew he’d be warm, but the heat of his skin shocked her. He wasn’t just warm. He was like an inferno. Of course, he smelled good. Spicy and dusty and sweaty and somehow none of those things were gross on him the way they’d be pretty nasty on another guy.
“Yeah,” he grunted.
Colette worked the shirt up another few inches, exposing granite muscle and more bronzed skin, a sprinkling of dark, crisp hairs. She was careful to keep herself a good few inches from Blaze’s chest and his bare skin. If she touched him, accidentally of course, she had no idea what would happen. Something would happen. She’d probably erupt like a volcano, just boom, and there would be magma and lady bits everywhere and the nice new hotel room would be completely ruined. Rich or not, she very much doubted that Blaze had enough room on his credit card to pay for the damages of an entire hotel. Or maybe he would. No, she would not go there. There was not going to be any hotel destruction going on here or anywhere else ever.
She purposely cast her eyes down to the floor, but to look there, she had to skim down those tight abs, down, past the front of his jeans. There was a bulge there, but she couldn’t tell if it was a normal bulge or not and since she was mortified that she was thinking about Blaze’s package at all, she flicked her gaze back up to the shirt, which was nearly off.
Blaze fumbled with his hands and caught the fabric in his grip. He tugged it out of her hands and pulled it the rest of the way off, sparing her.