Marrying a Stranger by Hart Lindsey

Author:Hart, Lindsey [Hart, Lindsey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Passion House Publishing
Published: 2023-02-06T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

Azalea

Yes, I wanted him to be punished. I wanted him to have a taste of his own medicine, but this…this is punishment enough. I’m also in practical librarian mode, and the practical librarian in me is worried that Alden broke something or cracked his head open when he fell. And how does a man his size fall onto the floor in a bathroom this small? He had to have hit something on the way down. I don’t know what’s redder. His face or his poor chest. I don’t know what he’s done in here, but I think whatever it was, he was attempting to do it for me, and honestly, I’m kind of flattered.

My chest burns as red and painful on the inside as Alden’s chest looks, which is where I firmly keep my eyes until I snatch the towel off the sink and drape it over his manly bits—bits I totally did not look at. I freaking swear.

So, a few minutes ago—well, really twenty or so minutes ago now—my body got a few wires crossed, something primal and hormonal took over my mind, and it sizzled and fizzled my rational response system and short-circuited it until I was willing to do some insane things.

Yeah.

It’s probably better this way. My brain registered a naked man, and that was it. My eyes locked firmly on his face and stayed there until everything was under wraps. I mean cover.

“What on earth were you doing in here?” The bathroom looks like a wreck. I kind of get it, based on the amount of fluffy black hair all over the sink, the discarded razor, and the neon-red chest that’s so bright it nearly hurts to look at it, but I have to ask anyway.

“I…I was…manscaping.” Alden clutches the towel to himself and slowly arches up into a sitting position.

There’s just a glass shower in here, a toilet, and a sink. As I said, it’s small. He sits up with his own strength and doesn’t need to lean on anything, so I guess that’s a good sign. I want to check him over for bumps and cuts, but I don’t think he’d appreciate that. I do vow to keep an eye on him to make sure he’s not concussed, though.

And nope, I’m not crouched down over here by the door, admiring his body. Which is, uh, so obviously a ten that it makes my mouth water and turns my nipples into diamond peaks. Damn it. It’s not my fault. His naked chest is just so potently beautiful that I can’t not notice. Also, it’s about as bright red as it gets. Gleaming, glistening, and drawing my attention—hook, line, and sinker. My body is on the highest of red alerts—alright, so maybe that’s also a good way to describe his chest—and I realize I’m slowly sinking into a moment of madness, round two.

“Manscaping?” I choke out just to say something. My eyes slingshot up to his face, away from the danger zone, which is pretty much everywhere below the neck.

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