Kristen
“Really, Mr. Falcon, you don’t have to carry me,” I protested weakly. I gripped his neck tightly as he carried me down the stairs.
It was a lie. I kind of did need him to carry me. I could barely manage to get myself back and forth to the bathroom on the crutches. Navigating the stairs was probably beyond me. Maybe if I sat on my butt and slid down the steps one at a time…
And if I was really being honest, I kind of liked the way he just swooped in and took charge. Forget all that nonsense about toxic masculinity, there was something very sexy about a man who was perfectly comfortable with his own strength. And his arms felt really good around me. Both gentle and secure and, oh, those biceps were more defined when he was carrying something heavy… namely, me.
I felt like a gidd
