Page 23 of The Rancher’s Bride

He’s alive. He’s here.

He put himself between me and that rope without hesitating.

I pull back and kiss him.

Damian freezes for a heartbeat before his hand closes around the back of my head and his mouth takes mine. He hauls me closer, and I press myself against him while his tongue sweeps into my mouth. Every nerve in my body ignites. I clutch his shirt, needing him nearer even though there’s already no space between us.

Then he flinches.

I pull away. “Your back.”

“It’s fine.”

“You made a sound.”

“I was enjoying myself.”

“That wasn’t an enjoying-yourself sound.”

“I’ve got several. You haven’t heard most of them yet.”

I glare at him. “We’re going inside.”

His thumb drags over my swollen lower lip. “You gonna kiss me again?”

“After I make sure you aren’t bleeding to death.”

He mutters about unreasonable women as I help him stand, though he keeps one arm around my waist all the way to the house.

Inside, I make him sit on a kitchen chair and peel the torn shirt away from his shoulders. The rope has left an ugly burn across his back, but the skin is only broken in a few places. His forearm is worse, scraped up where the line caught him.

I wet a clean cloth and begin washing away the dirt.

Damian hisses. “Gentle.”

“You threw yourself onto a moving rope, but this is too much?”

“The rope wasn’t poking at me.”

“I’m cleaning it.”

He catches me around the waist, pulling me between his knees. Before I can object, he kisses the exposed skin above my waistband.

“Damian.”

“What?”

“I’m trying to help you.”

“You are helping.”

“Sit still.”

He looks up with a shameless grin. His hands slide along my hips, drawing me closer until my knees touch the chair. He kisses my skin again, slower this time, and I almost forget about the bandage.

Almost.

I press it against his chest. “I’m not finished.”