To Save Sir (Doms of Decadence 7)

Not again. She wasn’t going to let this push her back into that mindset where she jumped at shadows and thought everyone was out to hurt her.

Was she strong enough to return to Dallas, though? Would she feel like that victim again? But, then, how would everyone around here react once they heard about her father?

You don’t know he’s guilty.

At least she hadn’t told anyone who her father was. Hopefully they wouldn’t put two and two together. To begin with, anyway.

Eventually, she’d have to face this mess. But not yet. Maybe for a little while longer she could just be a small-town doctor.

Yeah, and what about the two great hulks hanging out in your living room? How was she going to explain them?

The knock on the door startled her, and she let out a small cry, banging her knee against the handle of the cabinet door as she suddenly turned.

Crap, as if she didn’t have enough bruises? She glared at the door as she rubbed her throbbing knee.

“Jenna! Jenna, are you okay?” Curt asked through the door.

“I was until you scared me half to death!” she snapped.

The door handle turned, and she was thankful she’d thought to lock it. Normally, she didn’t even shut the door. But then she wasn’t used to having guests. Her parents hadn’t been to visit her yet; there had always been some reason they couldn’t come. It was probably a blessing. No doubt her mother would find fault with everything, and Daddy would work the whole time anyway.

“Did you hurt yourself? Damn it, why is this door locked?”

“Because I’m taking a bath and I don’t want to be disturbed.”

“Are you naked?”

What?

“Yes,” she told him, hoping that would send him away.

“Good.”

Good? What did that mean? Her body tightened, heat filling it. He wanted to see her naked?

“Don’t get dressed.”

Was this happening? She stared at the door, all thoughts of her sore knee fading. What would he do if she opened it and greeted him stark naked? Would he pull her into his arms and kiss her, squeeze her ass, maybe give it a few smacks? She shivered at the thought. What would it be like to be over Curt’s knee as he spanked her butt? What would it be like if he ordered her to her knees then told her to suck him off? Or if he blindfolded and bound her? That thought would terrify her with someone else, but not with Curt. He was so protective that at times it was smothering, but she knew he would never do anything to harm her.

Physically, anyway. Her emotions were a whole different story.

“Just put on a robe. I have some antibacterial cream to put on your injuries and I want to check you over before you go to bed.”

Right, he didn’t want her naked because he had the urge to make mad, passionate love to her . . . or, hell, even to just fuck her.

He wanted to put cream on her boo-boos and put her to bed.

When would she learn not to get her hopes up? Not to wish for more than he was willing to give?

“I’m fine, Curt.” She picked up the soft tracksuit pants and tank top she’d grabbed earlier and pulled them on. Despite her state of mind, the bath had helped ease the tension in her muscles, and she could move around more freely.

Still, she found her energy was quickly draining. She hoped like hell she could sleep once she closed her eyes, though she had a feeling she’d

be up late, worrying.

When she opened the door, she found him standing there, arms over his chest. Sure enough, he held a tube of antibacterial cream in one hand. He scowled as he saw her.

“I told you to get into a robe.”