CHELSEA’S PLEASURE
Pleasure, Montana 1
MELODY S. MONROE
Copyright © 2011
Chapter One
“You are amazing!” Standing in the Mountain View Bar & Grill’s kitchen, Luke Caulfield closed his eyes and sucked the chocolate icing off his finger.
What she wouldn’t give for him to mean that she was amazing instead of her frosting. Chelsea Mansfield inwardly groaned at the intimate act then blinked, forcing the image from her mind of him sticking his finger in her mouth instead.
“Try this.” She lifted a spoon to his lips. “It’s a new lemon meringue I created to go over a cream cheese filled Bundt cake.” This recipe was one that earned her a first-place ribbon in a cooking contest in St. Louis. She’d come up with the combinations of tastes specifically for Luke. He’d been her inspiration during her years at the culinary institute.
He chewed, swallowed, then licked his lips in an exaggerated fashion. “Oh, Chelsea.”
She melted at his sensual tone. My God, if only she could get him to respond to her that way, it would have made the move back home totally worthwhile.
“You like it?” She grinned.
“Seach, Pleasure, Montana, won’t know what hit them when they taste something this good. If Preston and I had known you were so exceptional, we might have insisted you stay in Missouri so we could brag about one of our own making it big.”
No one had called her Seach since high school when some computer snafu put the second part of her name with part of the first. “Thanks.” But she hadn’t come back to her hometown for the people’s appreciation, just Luke and Preston’s.
“Hey, Luke.” The call came from inside the bar. Leave it to his older brother, Preston, to pull him away from her.
“Thanks for the taste, darlin’, but work calls.” He winked and walked toward the exit.
She pulled the peeled potato she’d been working on toward her and began to dice it. When she looked up to follow his path out the door, the knife slipped, cutting her. She hissed and held her breath until the ache receded. The swinging door between the kitchen and the bar-restaurant slapped close. “Damn.” Blood dripped down her index finger, sending a wicked sting up her arm.
Some sous-chef she turned out to be.
“You okay?”
She jerked in the direction of the low, gravelly voice. She’d been so focused on Luke that she hadn’t seen the morning’s short-order cook come into the kitchen. “I’m good.”
He sidled over next to her, waving a spatula. “Gotta be careful, girl. You want me to get Luke back to help?”
Both her new bosses had been overly protective ever since she arrived two weeks ago. Now, she was too embarrassed to have him see she’d cut herself. “No.”
Six years ago, she’d left Pleasure to get her culinary degree. During that time, the two brothers had turned into delicious-looking men with broad shoulders packed with muscles. Her heart hadn’t stopped sputtering since seeing them again. Being careless wouldn’t put her on any of their lists of potential dates.
She mentally shook her head. Both men had grown way too sexy for their own good, and from the way Luke acted, he knew it. Why else would he go around wearing a tight-fitting T-shirt that showed off his bulging biceps and ripped abs when it was close to freezing outside? Was he trying to tempt her, or was he only interested in tasting her gourmet meals?
“What are you waiting for?” the old man grumbled. “Go get a Band-Aid in the back bathroom.”
She shut off her wandering mind and looked down at her bloody finger. “I’m on it.” With her good hand, she slipped the apron knots free in back and pulled the material over her head, not wanting to get blood on her prized smock. She eyed the old man. “Please don’t mention this mishap to Luke or Preston. They’ll hover if they think I’m wounded.” Not that she minded their attention. After all, she’d left a lucrative chef’s job in St. Louis just to be near them, but she hated when they treated her like a little sister who wasn’t capable of doing anything on her own. This latest incident would further solidify their opinion.
“You got it, but be careful next time, or I’ll be forced to work overtime.” He laughed, but his tone had a serious edge to it.
She hurried down the dark hall, past the pantry toward the bathroom, holding close the slice that didn’t seem to be too deep, thank goodness.
A noise near the back staircase made her stop. Preston and Luke’s place was on the second floor, but they rarely came through the kitchen to get there. There was an outside entrance, so one of them could have darted upstairs to retrieve something and was coming down the back way.
Not wanting either brother to learn of her injury, she backtracked and ducked into the warm but rather stuffy pantry, closing the door behind her. Should one of them happen to come in, she turned her back to the door, pretending to be searching for an item. The door opened a few seconds later, bringing with it cool, fresh hallway air. Shit. Being confined in the small space with either one would send her heat meter zooming.
“Well, well, if it isn’t little Chelsea Mansfield.”
Her heart jerked, and her stomach churned from the disgust that roiled inside her. She whipped around to find the one person she wanted to avoid. He was the reason she’d stayed away so long from Pleasure. Ross Scanlon might look suave with his curly black hair and chiseled jaw, but he was meaner than a pit bull and just as strong. Once he got his teeth into you, he wouldn’t let go.
“Ross. What are you doing here?” She tilted her chin up and straightened her shoulders. She hoped he bought her bravado, despite the fact the pulse at her temple was beating fiercely.
He moved closer and she backed up toward the metal shelves. “If you didn’t know, I used to own this place. I have every right to be here.”
“Not anymore you don’t.” What an arrogant SOB.
The short-order cook had told her that because Ross had put the moves on everything in a skirt, the bar didn’t do well until Preston bought him out and changed it into a combination bar and grill.
“You got your facts wrong, sweetie.” He waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter. I came by to see you, not that no-good partner of mine. There’s no law against looking up the woman of my dreams.”
She refrained from rolling her eyes. Her finger throbbed, but she hid her hand behind her back so he wouldn’t see she was injured. “Now you’ve seen me, so go.” Her stupid voice wobbled.
Ross reached out to touch her face, but she jerked back, hitting her head against the shelf in the process. “Ouch.”
He grinned. “Serves you right.”
In a flash, he had his chest pressed against hers, and his stale breath wafted over her face, causing her to gag. When he pushed his hard cock against her stomach, she nearly vomited.
With her good hand, she shoved against his chest, but he didn’t budge. “Get away from me!”
“Now is that any way to greet your old beau?” When he cupped her cheek, she debated biting his hand but feared she’d get some disease if she did.
Old beau, indeed. “We never dated.” If she thought anyone would hear her this far back in the building, she’d have screamed for help.
“You always were the one to turn me down, you bitch.” A bit of his spit landed on her cheek, but she didn’t dare wipe it away.
His face darkened and his eyelids turned into thin slits. He grabbed the front of her shirt and ripped it open. Buttons pinged on the floor.
Now she screamed as loud as she could.
A second later he clamped a damp hand over her mouth and nose. “Yell once more and you’ll be sorry.” His brows pinched.
Air. She needed air. Fear swirled inside her chest and spiraled downward. She nodded she’d obey, and he let go. She gasped and wiped his scent from around her mouth with the back of her hand. “What do you want?”
He reached into his back pocket, dragged out a knife, and flicked open the blade. “You.”
Her chest caved, trapping her heart, squeezing the air from her lungs. His older brother might be in jail for murder, but she believed Ross wouldn’t go that far. Or had he changed, too? “Why?” Her heart beat so fast, she was surprised she had enough air to speak. “You don’t even know me anymore.”
“That’s what you think. I’ve been thinking about this moment for a long time.” He pressed the knife against her waistband. “Don’t like it when a woman is too uppity to give me a chance or a little taste.”
“I was seventeen when you asked me out. You were like twenty-five.”
“So? You acted like I was scum when I had so much I wanted to teach you.” He sneered as he twirled the knife, moving it up and down her chest as if he was deciding if he wanted to slice her to pieces. “My daddy had more money than your whoring mom.”
Anger nearly ripped her in two at the false accusation. Without thinking of the consequences, she hauled off and elbowed him in the jaw then shoved her other hand into his face. His knife sliced across her abdomen. Her finger cut reopened and splattered blood on his face.
“You cunt.”
The sting from the cut finally registered, and she gasped. Distracted, she never saw his fist, but she sure as hell felt it slamming against her cheek and nose. Her knees buckled from the intense ache pounding inside her head. “Oh, God.” She’d never been hit before. Tears leaked out despite her resolve not to show he’d hurt her.
Before her knees hit the ground, he latched onto the waistband of her jeans and hauled her up. Too stunned to stop him, he ripped open her pants and dragged them down her legs.
Blood from the gash on her stomach dribbled between her legs. Ross had changed. He seemed certifiably crazy.
If he raped her, he’d probably then kill her. Adrenaline sped to every part of her body, and bile raced up her throat. She opened her mouth to call for help again.
“You scream and I’ll fuck you so hard I’ll break you wide open.” His lips curled and she nearly passed out.
Light-headed, her eyes couldn’t focus. “No. Don’t. What do you want?”
He continued to leer. “Don’t know why you keep asking me that. I want you, honey, and that glorious pussy you kept away from me all those years.” He pressed her arms down by her side, the knife nudging her back. He leaned over and bit her nipple through her bra. He spit. “Damn thing.”
She flinched as the pain radiated down the sides of her breast. Flicking the knife blade upward, he cut the two cups apart and grinned when her breasts popped out. She attempted to shove him with her free hand, but all she got was a push backward for her effort.
She glanced to the shelves, trying to find something to use as a weapon, but the only things nearby were heavy bags of flour, sugar, and coffee. All were useless against a man this powerful.
He held down her arms again, leaned over, and bit her breast, bruising the skin. Blood pooled from two of the teeth marks. An intense ache ignited every nerve ending, and she head butted him at the same time she drew up her knee to his groin. He blocked the leg thrust and shoved her backward. Pain slammed through her head and shoulder at the impact from the metal.
Before she could regroup, he whipped out his cock. The hard, ugly mass was dark purple.
No way would she let him touch her, but a second later, he ripped off her panties, exposing her.
“Well, well. You shaved that sweet pussy just for me?”
“Fuck you.”
“No, honey. I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before. When I get done with you, neither Preston nor Luke will want you. You’re goin’ to be mine.”
He took off his kerchief from around his neck and body slammed her against the shelves again. Pressing her tight, he secured her hands behind her back. She got in a few quick kicks on his shins and even managed to slam her heel on his foot, but he didn’t even seem to notice.
She switched tactics. “Please, Ross. Don’t do this. No good can come of it.”
“Shut up.” He leaned back and slapped her hard enough to split her lip.
“Chelsea?” The lilting voice calling her name came from the barmaid, Lydia. Thank you, God.
Ross pressed a hand over her mouth.
Please come in here.
He grabbed his cock and dragged it down her stomach. He tried to stick it into her, but she held her legs together as tight as she could. Tears flowed as she gasped for breath through her nose. He dropped his hand long enough to replace the hold with his slimy lips. She tried to turn her head, but he held her face. At that moment, she wanted to die.
The knob twisted and Lydia opened the door and screamed.
Next thing Chelsea remembered was hitting her head on the floor.
* * * *
Preston nearly dropped the glass he’d been filling when Lydia’s scream reached him. Luke was at a table in the middle of the restaurant speaking with the reverend when the scream reached him. He whipped around, his gaze on the kitchen door. Luke’s body tensed for a moment, and then he took off into the back faster than a rabbit could catch a mouse, but Preston barreled through the swinging doors first.
The short-order cook’s eyes were wide, his hand over his chest. “Both girls went that way.” The old man pointed toward the back. His hands were shaking so hard it was no wonder he hadn’t moved.
The thought that Chelsea was included in the panicked scream brought his heart to his throat. Something banged against the hallway wall and footsteps pounded on the wooden floor, coming straight at him.
“What’s going on?” Luke said as he nearly slammed into Preston’s back.
Before he could answer, Ross Scanlon raced toward them with blood on his face and a knife in his hand. Preston’s gut nearly exploded. What the fuck was he doing here? Whatever it was, it was bad news.
“Check on Chelsea,” he shouted as Ross reached the side exit before Preston could get to him. Without care to his own safety, Preston raced after him and flew down the three steps to the frozen outdoors. Regardless of the fact he had no weapon, there was no way he’d let his former partner get away. If he found out the man had harmed Chelsea or Lydia, he just might have to kill him.
The moment Ross looked back over his shoulder, he tripped on a root sticking up from the dirt path, and his step faltered. Preston took advantage of the stumble and launched himself in the air. He landed on the asshole’s back, causing the two of them to crash to the ground. The impact nearly caused his ribs to break. Christ, but the man was as hard as a case of nails.
Ross might be shorter by a good four inches, but he’d proven many times he was stronger than a horse. Having a knife meant he’d be extra dangerous. With a lift of his leg, Ross managed to roll them both over, tossing Preston to the side. Rocks jabbed him in the back, but he pushed aside the pain. Sunlight glinted off the knife.
Preston would prefer to talk to his former partner into surrendering than get in a fight, but the man didn’t seem to be in the mood for a discussion. The two circled each other, Ross’s knife swiping the air.
Preston held up his hands. “What are you doing here, Ross? I thought we agreed you’d stay away from the bar.” Shit. He failed to keep the venom from his voice.
Ross advanced. “Just trying to be friendly with your new cook.”
Friendly? His imagination ran wild. Preston’s gut burned and his heart rattled in his chest. Not only had he made a promise to himself to protect Chelsea at all costs, but he also told her two older brothers he would keep her safe while they were fighting in Iraq.
And Preston’s word was his life. He’d never let some scumbag like Ross Scanlon hurt her. Partnering with him in the first place was the dumbest thing he’d ever done, but he’d needed Ross’s daddy’s start-up cash to open the bar.
Ross lowered his head, looking like he might attack.
If it were the last thing he did, Scanlon would be punished for his violent ways. “Why did Lydia scream?” His throat had turned dry.
“She walked in on me and Chelsea. Your cook didn’t want to play, and I had to teach her a lesson.” Ross grabbed his jean-covered cock, and a lustful glint sparked in the man’s eye.
When the implication registered, all rational thought flew out the window. Preston dove at Ross, elbowing the man’s knife arm to the side and slamming his head into Ross’s chest. His opponent pushed and shoved, nearly tumbling Preston on his ass. On the next go-around, he managed to punch Ross in the face, but before he got off his second jab, Ross swiped the knife across Preston’s arm.
“Fuck.”
It stung for a second until rage took over his body and blocked the pain. Preston pummeled Ross in the stomach, taking a few hits to the head in the process. The bastard was like a punching bag that refused to go down.
Ross’s fist connected with Preston’s face again, sending him stumbling backward. Once he regained his focus, he charged headfirst again, knocking Ross down this time. His opponent gave one gruff Oof as he landed on a protruding rock. Knees got tangled and arms flayed like street fighters. The two rolled over and over, fighting with lethal intent. A chop to Ross’s arm must have caught him off guard for he dropped the knife.
On top, Preston had the advantage. With a powerful uppercut, he smashed Ross’s jaw, and the man’s eyes rolled back in his head.
Panting, Preston fell to the side and got up. He lightly kicked his opponent’s side to make sure he wasn’t faking being out.
“Good Lord.”
He looked up. Lydia stood in the entranceway, blocking most of Chelsea’s body, but what he could see of her face made him sick. Preston leaped over Ross and raced up the steps. Lydia stepped back to let him through, but in the process of trying to reach Chelsea, he bumped into his barmaid. She stumbled backward, slamming against the wall and nearly falling. He helped stabilize her. “I’m so sorry, Lydia. I never meant—”
“I’m good.” She nodded toward Chelsea, who was wrapped in the comforter off his bed.
His heart stopped when he got a good look at her cut lip. His first thought was that the bastard had raped her. He turned to Lydia. “Call Dr. Trumble and get the sheriff over here pronto.”
Lydia stared at him for a moment before reacting. “Right away.”
Luke came running down the hallway and Preston gathered Chelsea in his arms.
His brother’s eyes seemed glazed over. “I tried to make her stay upstairs, but she wouldn’t listen. She kept insisting she had to see if you were okay.”
He didn’t know whether to be happy or pissed. He leaned back to look at her swollen face. “Where did he hurt you?” He held his breath. Clearly, Ross had hit her, but if he’d touched her intimately, he’d make sure Ross suffered more than a beating.
“Just on my face.” She shook her head. “His knife got a little too close to my stomach and sliced me. He would have raped me if Lydia hadn’t come in.” Her voice shook as hard as her body. “She saved me.”
The word rape rattled in his head. He wanted to seek revenge on Ross but knew they’d all be better off if he waited for the sheriff to arrive.
Chelsea’s face suddenly lost color. He swooped her up in his arms and held her tight. “Luke, put the Closed sign up.” He didn’t care how pissed his customers got. Chelsea needed their care.
“On it.” Despite the intense worry in his eyes, Luke rushed out.
Chelsea wiggled in his arms. “I can walk. Only my face hurts. And my finger and my stomach.”
He cocked a brow. Physically, she might be okay, but what did the attack do to her mental state? “You’re hurt. Luke and I are going to take care of you.”
“Preston, your arm is bleeding.”
He looked down. “It’s a scratch.”
“And mine isn’t?”
He tugged her closer. When she snuggled against his chest, waves of affection slammed through him. When he and Luke had babysat the ten-year-old many years ago, she was tiny, charming, and delightful. Now, she’d grown up in more ways than one, but to him, she’d always need protecting. Didn’t matter that her hips were fuller and her breasts were made for licking. Chelsea needed him and Luke.
Taking the back stairs two at a time, he pushed open the door and rushed Chelsea into his bedroom. Carefully, he lowered her onto the bed. Her eyes were closed, and he thought she might have even fallen asleep. His heart warmed at the delicate beauty.
A knock sounded on the door. It was too quick to be the doc. Trumble was too old to move fast.
“I’ll be right back, Seach,” he whispered.
Another knock sounded, and he hurried to answer it. At the door, Lydia stood wringing her hands. “How is she?”
“I’m not sure. You get a hold of Doc Trumble?”
“He’s with someone who’s about to have her baby, and he said he can’t leave her.”
Damn it. “Did you tell him Chelsea was hurt?”
“Yes, he’ll be here as soon as he can, but the baby’s breech.”
A fully staffed hospital was an hour away, and the new mom probably needed the doc more than Chelsea. “What about Sheriff Bradford? He coming?”
“He’s downstairs. He wants to talk to you about what happened.”
Good thing Mountain View sat next to the sheriff’s office. From inside his room, Chelsea emitted a soft mewling sound. Preston looked at the bedroom door. “Tell him I’ll be right down.”
Lydia nodded and left. Preston raced into the room. Chelsea was thrashing about, but she seemed to be in that state halfway between sleep and consciousness.
More footsteps sounded up the stairs and Luke rushed in. “She okay?”
“I haven’t checked her out, but she’s resting. Doc’s tied up, and I have to tell Justin what went down.” Sheriff Bradford wasn’t a man who liked to wait.
“If you need to speak with him, I’ll stay and watch over Chelsea.”
“Thanks. Bradford will want to process her, so we can’t clean her up yet.” He hated to leave her, but he also needed the sheriff to arrest Ross. “Be back shortly.”
* * * *
Luke walked softly into his brother’s room. He didn’t want anyone touching Chelsea, but he understood she was a victim of a crime. To get justice, the sheriff would need to take pictures and gather evidence. That invasive plan stuck in his craw, but he knew it had to be done.
Chelsea opened her eyes and tried to smile, but only half of her face seemed to be working because of the cheek swelling. She pushed up with her hands to a sitting position and winced. His body tensed. He wanted to help, but he wasn’t sure how. She wrapped the blanket tightly around her chest and rested her head against the wall.
He moved closer. “Can you tell me what happened?”
A tear leaked out of her right eye. “Did Preston kill Ross?”
“Not quite, but he’ll be in jail for quite a while.” If he had anything to say about it.
“Darn. I hate that man.”
“So do a lot of people. The sheriff will be up in a minute. He’ll need to take pictures and get some samples.”
She skewered up her face, and his heart ached. “Can’t you do it?”
“No, Seach. Even if a bunch of people saw Ross run out of the back room, Bradford will still need to process you.”
She cast her gaze downward, and before he could comfort her, voices sounded from the stairs. The sheriff came into the room carrying a silver case. Preston followed right behind.
“Hello, Chelsea.”
Justin Bradford might have been a ruggedly handsome man who was only a year older than him, but he trusted the man to be professional. Another knock sounded, and before Preston could get to the door, Doc Trumble poked his head in the room. “Sorry I’m late. I had to deliver a baby.”
Luke was thrilled Chelsea would get the needed care. “Everything good?”
“Yes. Mother and baby are doing well. Now if you all would shoo for a moment, I need a look at Chelsea here. Then we’ll let the sheriff have a go at her.”
Luke looked to his brother who nodded they give Chelsea some privacy.
Luke stood. “We’ll be outside.”
He hated to leave her, but protocol had to be followed. As they waited in the living room, Preston’s face remained red, and the tension rolling off him filled the room. Sheriff Bradford paced.
Preston slammed his hand against the wall. “I wish I’d killed the SOB.”
Luke stepped behind him. “He’s not worth it.”
“It’s all my fault.”
Preston always was the martyr in the family. If they didn’t look like their dad, Luke would have wondered if one of them hadn’t been adopted. Preston was serious, hard working, and took the blame for every wrongdoing. Luke was just the opposite. He saw the glass half-full.
Bradford stopped moving and leaned a hip on the sofa. “You thinking the attack had something to do with you buying Ross out?”
“Don’t you?”
“He was your partner. You’d know better than anyone. I know the split wasn’t on the best of terms. Did he ever threaten to harm someone you cared about?”
“No. Never.” Preston fisted his hands. “I thought he’d changed, but I was wrong. He’s still a scumbag.” Preston shook his head. “He sure fooled me good into thinking he wanted to be a businessman.”
Luke wanted to place a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder, but Preston would have interpreted Luke’s action as a belief that Preston had been at fault somehow. They’d argued about taking on Ross in the first place, but if he hadn’t, Preston never would have been able to afford the place. At the time, his finances weren’t healthy enough to help.
“Maybe Ross just wanted Chelsea, and it had nothing to do with you. Hell, I want Chelsea, only I want to earn her respect, not take something she isn’t willing to give.” The moment she’d come back to Pleasure, he’d had a hard time keeping his gaze off her. Hell, she’d left a tomboy and returned a sensual woman. Pleasure might only have one thousand residents, but he was sure every male in town had noticed her. And since Pleasure was mostly made up of males, that meant a lot of noticing was going on.
Preston glared at him. “I don’t need you sniffing around her. I gave my word to her brothers that I would make sure she stayed safe. And that means you need to stay away from her, too.”
Luke held up his hands in surrender. “Easy. I’m just saying I understand why Ross lusted after her.”
“Which is why we have to be extra careful with her.”
“I’m not disagreeing.” Though if he could convince her that his intentions were honorable, she might invite him to her bed. He and Preston had shared women before and liked it, but this time he might be on his own.
The door to Chelsea’s room opened and the doc came out. “I’ve fixed her up the best I could. She needs rest. In a week, she’ll be good as new.”
Preston stepped in front of the doc. “Should we take her to the hospital?”
“No need. Her wounds are superficial, but I gave her some antibiotics just in case. Make sure she takes them. She’ll need your emotional support more than anything.” He held up a finger. “In case she has nightmares, here’s a prescription for some anxiety medication.”
Luke pocketed the paper. “I’ll get it filled just in case. Don’t worry about us. We’ll take good care of her.”
The sheriff picked up his case. “I need to get those photos.”
Luke’s stomach refused to settle. He wanted to be there for her, hold her hand, and tell her no one would harm her again if he could help it.
The sheriff stepped into Chelsea’s room, and the silence between him and Preston was as loud as the worst winter storm. Nothing he said would convince Preston that he wasn’t at fault.
Preston’s fixation on keeping Chelsea on a short leash bothered him. Chelsea was a free spirit and wouldn’t take to being told who she could and couldn’t see.
If he had to fight Preston for her, he would.
The sheriff eventually came out, his shoulders stiff. “I have her statement and took the photos. It’s pretty clear she’d been assaulted. As soon as Ross wakes up, I’ll take him into custody.”
“I’ll walk you out, Justin.” Preston glanced back at Luke and left.
The moment the door clicked close, he rushed back into the bedroom. Chelsea’s eyes were closed.
She opened them, and a hint of a smile surfaced. “Luke.” She lifted the blanket, exposing blood smeared on her stomach. “Can you help me clean up?”
“Sure.” Her injuries still had his stomach churning. “Let me get a washcloth.” He figured the doc would have left the blood for the sheriff to document.
“Thanks.”
He ducked into the bathroom to get the cloth. When he came out, Chelsea had the blanket lowered and was touching the bite mark on her breast. She had a bandage over her stomach, one on her finger, and a patch on the top part of her breast. His heart ached.
He forced himself to remember this was Seach, the little girl he took care of junior and senior year. It didn’t work. The woman in the bed was all curves.
Luke cleared his throat. “Maybe you should cover up.” He averted his gaze.
She tapped her breast. “Most of it is just bruised. There are only one or two places where he broke the skin.”
He looked back, but she hadn’t seemed to hear him. “Chelsea?” She finally looked up. “Can you please?” He nodded to her naked body.
“Oh, sure.”
He knew how dangerous animal bites were. He’d read human ones were far worse.
“Did the doc tell you to take the antibiotics?”
“Yes.”
“Here’s a cloth to clean up.”
She held out her right hand. Blood had caked on her index finger, too. What had Ross done to her? His head pounded with rage.
“Can you do it? I cut my finger slicing potatoes, and it hurts to use it.”
He let out a held breath. “Me?”
“Please?”
Jesus. He couldn’t touch her and not think inappropriate thoughts, but he couldn’t have her sleep in dried blood either. “I’ll give it a try.”
He sat on the bed and patted the cloth around her wound. The whole breast pressed to the side like a mound of Jell-O. “I need to hold everything still so I can clean you. If you feel uncomfortable with me—”
“No. You’re just trying to help.”
Yes, he was. With as much care as he could, he inhaled and held her perky breast steady as he cleaned underneath the bite mark. With each swipe, anger welled up inside him. He hoped for Ross’s sake that he never ran into him again.
She lifted her arm and smelled her pits. “I think I’d like to take a shower. I don’t want his stench on me.”
Good. Then he wouldn’t have to touch her body anymore. He never was good with temptation. “I bet you’ll feel better if you do. I’ll get you a clean towel.” Though why she hadn’t decided to take a shower before he cleaned her up, he didn’t know. “You need a brush?” Her long, blonde hair looked tangled.
She reached up to touch the strands. “That would be great for after I shower.” Her lips pressed together. “I’m not sure I can reach high enough to wash it though. My shoulder is sore from when he slammed me against the metal shelves. Can you help?” Her plea tore at his insides, but he held in a groan. She was injured and he couldn’t turn her down. “I’ll change and be right back.” She might need help putting the bandages back on, too.
As he searched through his drawers for a bathing suit, he prayed his brother would come up the stairs and take over the cleaning duties. Luke wasn’t convinced he could keep his control from breaking if he stood in the shower with an all-wet and naked Chelsea. He inhaled to gain a bit of composure and crossed the living room.
Before he reached the entrance, Preston rushed in. His fists were clenched and his jaw tight. “Ross got away.”
“Oh, shit.”