Page 77 of Gunnar

“Stop pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

“I’m not pretending.”

She gives me a look that says she doesn’t believe that for a second, then turns to the sink.

The faucet runs.

I watch her while she wets a cloth, wrings it out with both hands. Her hair is loose around her face. There’s a strand stuck to her cheek.

I reach out before I think about it and brush it away.

She stills.

“Sit still,” she says again, stern.

I drop my hand.

She steps in between my knees. There’s no room not to.

Up close, I hear her breathing change.

The touch of her fingers on my skin is light, but it’s driving my beast crazy.

This is a mistake.

My beast claws up hard.

She leans closer to see what she’s doing, her hair brushing my chest.

I suck in a breath through my teeth.

She glances up. “Does that hurt?”

“It’s fine.”

It’s not.

My hands grip the edge of the seat hard enough to keep them there.

She moves closer, focused on the wound.

I can’t stay here.

I push to my feet.

“That’s enough.”

She blinks. “I haven’t finished.”

“It’s fine,” I say. “It’s already closing.”

Something shifts in her expression.

Before I can change my mind, I step past her, yank the door open, and head into the hallway.

Away from her.

Before my control slips.