Page 88 of Forgotten Prejudice

“S-Shit,” I spat, realizing I was staring. “Didn’t know you were in here.”

Ash locked eyes with me before they latched on to the bloodied paper towel.

“What happened to you?” He put the electric razor down and rushed to grab my wrist.

Still overwhelmed by the heat, I didn’t say a word and allowed him to pull me into the small bathroom.

He closed the toilet lid and then forced me to sit on it. “Let me see,” he said and took my hand in his.

“Don’t worry, Ashy. It’s just a small cut.” I flashed him a crooked smile while he studied the cut with pursed lips.

He let go of me and moved to fumble with the drawers, his sexy body on full display for me to enjoy as he did, until he pulled out the first aid kit.

He kneeled on the floor in front of me as he placed the kit beside him. The position gave me all sorts of dirty ideas that proved to me, once more, how weak I was. But what could a man say? Ash’s face was mere inches from my cock while he was treating my wound, half-naked, drops of water sliding from his wet hair to his chest all the way down to his—“Ouch!” I hissed as he squeezed my finger.

He chuckled. “I thought it was just a small cut,” he mocked me, using my own words to do so.

“Small yet painful,” I huffed, holding in another hiss when he sprayed the wound with alcohol and it burned. To distract myself, I focused my eyes on his body. He was lean yet toned as fuck, each muscle beautifully shaped. He was also smooth all over, with not a single hair around. In high school, we had to get our hair removed because of the swimming team. Had he kept doing that? I hoped not because I loved finding my way around a well-groomed bush. There was just something sexy about pubes peeking out, letting you know a surprise was waiting for you downstairs.

“How did you cut yourself?” Ash asked, thankfully cutting my line of thought.

Instead of telling Ash I’d got mad thinking about him, I told a white lie. “Aiden and Paris distracted me, and I dropped a glass.”

“Oh, so the noises I heard were Paris?” He looked up from the bandage he’d finished wrapping around my finger and met my eyes.

“Yeah. I have him for the weekend,” I said, desperately trying to distract myself from how tenderly Ash was holding my hand, his soft skin caressing mine. I doubted he even noticed what he was doing.

“What do you say, Doctor, am I going to make it?”

The corner of his lips quirked up. “I think you’ll survive.”

“Yeah?”

He moved to stand up.

Still sitting, I looked up at him.

“Yeah,” he said.

We held still in this position, lost in each other’s stare, until he visibly swallowed.

“Kai.” His voice came out hoarse and weak.

“I’m sorry about what happened,” I cut in before he could say anything, standing up while I did. “Seriously, Ash. I don’t know what took over me that night, and I’m sorry for screwing up.”

I was only slightly taller than him, and he held my gaze before looking down at the floor.

“And I’m sorry for avoiding you the last few days… I didn’t mean to.”

“Don’t apologize for it,” I said, still looking at him.

“It’s just that—” He bit on the tip of his nail. “—I really need a friend right now.”

Grabbing his hand, I lowered it down. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

Tangling his fingers with mine, he nodded.

“Thank you.” He stepped closer, and without stopping to think about it, I pulled him into a hug.