Page 19 of Blood Code

It didn’t matter. You’re too deep to turn around now.

I curled my palm around the handle, eased the door open, and walked in without knocking.

It. Was. A. Mistake.

Severin Volkov was shirtless.

I repeat, shirtless.

And worse, his muscles bunched as he strained to pull a shirt over his head, showing off his sculpted frame in all its brilliance, and my mouth watered.

What?

But the sight was marred by white gauze taped tightly along the length of his right side, revealing the severity of his injuries.

A low grunt escaped him, his face tightening in pain.

Something tightened in my chest at the sight of all his bandages. I gulped as he struggled to pull his white T-shirt over his head, letting out another low growl.

“Would you like some help?” I said with a chipper yet posh British accent.

“Ah, so you did show up,” he said from behind the fabric covering his face.

Without waiting for permission, I stepped further inside, my hand trembling slightly as I gently worked his shirt around his head, the unspoken tension thickening the air between us. “Well, there are cameras to pose for,” I said, my voice steady despite the emotion stirring beneath it.

His eyes fixed on mine. “Right.”

I pinched my lips together and slowly dragged his shirt down as gently as I could, my fingertips caressing the ridges of his abs. I was careful to avoid his bandages and cause any more friction, biting my cheek as I decided to break the tension with some humor.

“Well, at least the fire didn’t mar your beautiful face,” I said dryly, filling my words with as much sarcasm as possible.

He chuckled and then scowled, a flash of pain crossing his face.

I shuddered, feeling a tiny, tiny bit bad for throwing so much lighter fluid on the boxes at the warehouse.

“How bad are the burns?” I asked.

“Not too bad,” he said, and I stepped back.

“Liar.” I’d hacked into the hospital and had seen his charts. He had burns on 10% of his body.

“And how do you know that?” He raised an eyebrow, still perfectly manicured despite his disheveled state.

“I hacked your medical files.”

I smirked playfully. Cheeky yet demure, wild yet serious. A smirk that told a thousand stories.

He shook his head. “Well, I guess you do care then.”

My cheek twitched, and I paused, simply staring at him.

“Enough...”

He chuckled. “Right.”

“I’m sorry for not coming sooner.”

“Are you?” His lips twitched at the corner, and his eyes sparked with amusement.