Chapter Eight
Dan moved stiffly, cramped in the confines of his hire car. He had taken off the damn sling to drive. His shoulder had gradually slowed to a dull ache but his hips were well past stiff and his throbbing finger had now given him a new injury to spark fire in his body. He’d never visited a hospital so much in his life. He turned the radio off with a huff and sat in the thick, dark silence. Making a documentary had never been so dangerous.
Maybe it was just the cause of his injuries that had made it like that.
He’d been sitting in the dark, parked at the curb outside Victoria’s house until his shoulders ached and his tortured muscles protested while he tried to forget the sweet length of her stretched on top of him. Cold and dripping wet, she had set him on brain-numbing fire
