8
1095 Words
SOPHIE
Ethan returns to the chef’s kitchen and washes his hands thoroughly with soap.
A moment later, he walks back over to me, opens the first aid kit, and takes out cleaning wipes, gauze, antiseptic spray, and skin glue before lowering himself onto the floor in front of me.
Carefully holding both my legs, he slides off my shoes.
“Why are you doing that?”
His gaze stays lowered. “Just give me a second,” he murmurs.
He gently lines my legs up together and starts pressing along my shins, calves, and feet like he’s checking something.
I inhale sharply. “Ethan, what are you doing?”
“Making sure your leg isn’t infected.”
“I don’t follow.”
“I’m checking for swelling.”
His thumbs press against the side of my lower knee.
“Ow!”
His head lifts immediately. “Sorry. Your knee’s pretty swollen, Sophie.”
He opens one of the cleaning wipes and carefully starts wiping away the blood from my skin. I tense from the sting.
“Sorry,” he says again. “I’m honestly trying not to hurt you.”
“I believe you’re not... this time,” I joke lightly.
Once the blood is cleaned away, he picks up the spray bottle and sprays the cut.
Then he leans closer.
Way too close.
His mouth hovers only inches from my skin as he blows gently over the wound.
A soft groan slips out of me before I can stop it. Tiny chills race slowly up my spine.
Oh my God.
Did I actually just groan?
His dark eyes snap straight to mine. Everything between us freezes. His breathing deepens, and suddenly the room feels too quiet.
Then he looks away first and opens the skin glue.
“Sorry, but this is going to hurt.”
He presses the edges of my cut together.
“Ah!”
I almost jerk out of the chair, but Ethan steadies me instantly. One hand stays firm against my knee while the other grips my upper thigh to keep me still.
Pain shoots through my leg.
But the heat of his hand against my thigh sends another kind of shock through me completely.
Electric sparks rush low through my body.
I’m breathing hard now.
He probably thinks it’s because of the pain.
It isn’t.
It’s him.
Ethan pulls back slightly, applies the glue carefully over the cut, then leans down again to blow cool air across my skin.
That’s it.
I’m completely falling apart inside.
Warmth floods through me, and I can feel myself trembling just a little.
After wrapping my knee securely with gauze, Ethan studies my face quietly.
I wait for him to say something.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he rises to his feet and suddenly lifts me straight out of the chair in one easy motion.
My arms instantly slide around his shoulders. His clean scent surrounds me so fast it makes my head spin.
For one reckless second, I think he might be carrying me toward Ethan’s master suite.
Instead, he walks into the grand lounge and gently lowers me onto the couch.
Fine.
You can still kiss me here.
I’m still holding onto him when he sets me down. Our faces stay dangerously close.
My pulse is racing so hard I swear it might burst from my throat.
He swallows roughly. “You need to ice your leg and keep it elevated.”
I search his eyes for another second before slowly pulling my arms away from him.
Ethan grabs a pillow from the side of the couch and slides it carefully beneath my injured leg. His fingers stay there a moment longer than necessary before he finally steps back.
“Let me get you an ice pack.”
“Okay... thank you,” I say quietly.
What is happening between us?
And where did the jerk go?
He kneels beside the first aid kit again, takes out a large ice pack, folds it in half, twists it with both hands, and slips a cover around it before securing it gently around my knee.
Then he walks back over to the kit, grabs a packet and my water bottle, and comes back to me.
Opening the packet first, he hands me two pills and the water.
“Take these, Sophie. They’ll help with the swelling.”
“What are they?”
“Ibuprofen.”
I place the pills in my mouth and swallow them while Ethan disappears back into the chef’s kitchen.
A minute later, he returns carrying a tray. He’s taken my takeout from the bag and plated the food properly for me.
After setting the tray over my lap, he glances around the room, walks away again, then returns with another pillow.
He props it carefully behind my back.
“Comfortable?” he asks.
I bite lightly on my lip and nod. “Thanks.”
He gives me a small wink, and my entire stomach turns soft and weak.
Then he grabs his own food and sits cross-legged on the floor in front of me.
I laugh quietly. “You know you don’t have to sit on the floor, right?”
He shrugs while taking another bite of food.
I hesitate before speaking again. “If I ask you something, will you answer honestly?”
His expression immediately turns firm. “Yes. I don’t lie.”
“Why do you own such a huge first aid kit? It looks like something a paramedic would carry.”
“Because I used to be a paramedic.”
I choke on my food instantly.
Ethan stands so fast it startles me. He rubs my back gently and hands me my water.
I take a sip.
“You okay?”
I stare at him suspiciously. “Are you serious?”
“No.”
“Why were you a paramedic?”
“What’s so strange about that?”
“Nothing. I mean... nothing’s wrong with it. I just didn’t expect it.”
Why would someone like Ethan become a paramedic?
“You didn’t expect what?”
Suddenly I feel nervous.
A terrible realization starts creeping into my mind.
What if I completely misunderstood him?
“Sophie?”
He’s still waiting for an answer, his eyebrows raised slightly.
That’s when I realize his hand is still resting against my back.
Finally, before I can stop myself, the question slips out.
“Why would a rich kid become a paramedic?”
Ethan slowly removes his hand from my back.
“I never told you I was a rich kid.”
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