Claimed by Hart Cassi

Author:Hart , Cassi
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-10-17T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Two

Maverick

She really must have golden hands because the moment her fingers touch my skin, my cock hardens.

Oh, who am I kidding, I have been hard since the moment I set my eyes on her. She may be a tiny woman. But her attitude is far bigger than her frame. The way her eyes shoot at me in defiance is so hot, I just want to kiss her until she surrenders to me.

There are very few people in my life who can look me in the eye and defy my orders. The number is even less with people who don’t know me. Just a single glare usually has everyone bending to my will.

Well, almost everyone.

I watch her as she works on my wound, her dark hair tied in a tight ponytail and larger-than-life hazel eyes focused on my arm.

“So how did you get hurt? Did someone attack you or something?” she asks, her hands steady as she pierces my skin with the sharp needle. The sting does nothing to soften my throbbing erection. There is no hiding the bulge in my pants and if she notices it, she is too polite to say anything.

“It was an accident,” I offer.

“Uhm,” she mutters. “You are lucky it’s not that deep or it would have injured a nerve.”

I remain silent, unsure of what it is she expects me to say. I am not one for casual conversations; hate them actually. I’ve never really understood the need for people to fill up blessed silence with their voice, however…

I find myself wanting to hear more of her voice. I just have no idea how to go about it.

“Are you sure you don’t want any numbing medicine? This must hurt,” she says sympathetically, her eyes looking up to meet mine briefly.

“No, I’m fine.”

We fall into another awkward silence. I often attend to my own wounds but when the blunt knife pierced my skin, I’d known immediately that I needed to get the shot.

This is one of the many hazards of working in security. There is no escaping injuries when you offer protection services, however, the irony of getting injured in a silly training exercise is not lost on me.

“There, done!” the nurse says, pushing back and inspecting her work. I follow her eyes to the neat sutures, noticing how proud she is of the job well done.

“Thank you,” I manage, watching her.

“You’re welcome,” she says, rising from the chair. My eyes stay on her as she cleans up and it’s not until someone steps into her space that I am reminded that we are no longer alone. It’s quite hilarious really. I am always conscious of everyone in the room and yet, I completely forgot about the doctor standing in the corner watching her stitch my cut. Some bodyguard I am.

“Great job, Adams,” the doctor, whose name I don’t even remember, comments inspecting my arm. “I will now leave you to clean and dress his wound.”

The two don’t speak much before the man exits the room, leaving me alone with the nurse.

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