opened the package and handed it to him.
* * * *
Carter hesitated to take the granola bar. Clearly she’d secretly stashed it. He then scrutinized her physical appearance. Although she appeared toned and strong, she was a waif. He now suspected why. They provided her with enough food to sustain herself, but no more.
Food was a powerful bargaining tool for a person left in a constant state of hunger.
“I can’t,” he started, but she cut him off. “Please, you must.” Her bright green eyes locked with his. Her expression pleaded. She tore off a small chunk and brought it to his lips as another soft “please” left hers. She looked utterly pained at the notion that he might refuse.
Ah hell . Carter could damn well feed himself and probably bathe himself too, but he couldn’t seem to resist opening his mouth and welcoming the bite that she offered, if only to appease her pleading eyes.
He was mindful not to touch her fingers with his tongue or lips, even though a foreign part of him wanted to draw her delicate finger in and give it a nip and suck. Maybe she’d gasp with expectancy, or maybe she’d slap him across the face. Either outcome tempted him greatly.
As he began to chew, she smiled, and it was a … transformation, as though her face bloomed before him. Her eyes lit—the green twinkling, and he spotted a faint dimple just below the left side of her lip.
He was taken back by the scrawny woman standing before him—her hair in disarray and not an ounce of makeup upon her gaunt face, yet there was no denying that her unique features created an other-worldly Lord of the Rings elfish beauty.
Once again, she attempted to hand him the bar, but this time he took it. “Thank you,” he said humbly, and a slight blush hinted her cheeks. Crap , he thought, glancing away. The blush totally added to the allure that he adamantly was not feeling.
“Let me finish up,” she mumbled, turning away herself. “I’m sure they’ll bring something soon. Samuel mentioned that one of Patrice’s doctors would be checking on you, and if they know you need to eat with the meds—”
“One of her doctors?” he cut in, “How many does she have?”
“A few.”
Carter put two and two together, realizing that Patrice’s bent assassins probably suffered injuries often. He then wondered how badly the woman before him had suffered. “Have you had to see the doctors before?”
She shrugged, wiping down his uninjured arm and making him squirm as the cloth swiped his armpit.
“Sorry,” she quickly whispered.
Embarrassment nailed him. Damn, part of him felt like a heel for allowing her to continue with the sponge bath. Now that his pain med had kicked in, he could make do on his own, but her light stroking and soft caresses felt unbelievably good, and he wasn’t embarrassed to admit how much he liked being pampered. He was down with spa days regardless of the heckling he endured from T and Smits. The two chumps didn’t know what they were missing.
His eyes quickly perused her slight frame. “Well,” he persisted, desperate to know if she’d suffered.
“A few times. For nothing … horrendous.”
“What do you not consider horrendous?”
She glanced up at him, halting the bath. “The usual things one might expect: contusions, fractured ribs, a … gun
* * * *
Carter hesitated to take the granola bar. Clearly she’d secretly stashed it. He then scrutinized her physical appearance. Although she appeared toned and strong, she was a waif. He now suspected why. They provided her with enough food to sustain herself, but no more.
Food was a powerful bargaining tool for a person left in a constant state of hunger.
“I can’t,” he started, but she cut him off. “Please, you must.” Her bright green eyes locked with his. Her expression pleaded. She tore off a small chunk and brought it to his lips as another soft “please” left hers. She looked utterly pained at the notion that he might refuse.
Ah hell . Carter could damn well feed himself and probably bathe himself too, but he couldn’t seem to resist opening his mouth and welcoming the bite that she offered, if only to appease her pleading eyes.
He was mindful not to touch her fingers with his tongue or lips, even though a foreign part of him wanted to draw her delicate finger in and give it a nip and suck. Maybe she’d gasp with expectancy, or maybe she’d slap him across the face. Either outcome tempted him greatly.
As he began to chew, she smiled, and it was a … transformation, as though her face bloomed before him. Her eyes lit—the green twinkling, and he spotted a faint dimple just below the left side of her lip.
He was taken back by the scrawny woman standing before him—her hair in disarray and not an ounce of makeup upon her gaunt face, yet there was no denying that her unique features created an other-worldly Lord of the Rings elfish beauty.
Once again, she attempted to hand him the bar, but this time he took it. “Thank you,” he said humbly, and a slight blush hinted her cheeks. Crap , he thought, glancing away. The blush totally added to the allure that he adamantly was not feeling.
“Let me finish up,” she mumbled, turning away herself. “I’m sure they’ll bring something soon. Samuel mentioned that one of Patrice’s doctors would be checking on you, and if they know you need to eat with the meds—”
“One of her doctors?” he cut in, “How many does she have?”
“A few.”
Carter put two and two together, realizing that Patrice’s bent assassins probably suffered injuries often. He then wondered how badly the woman before him had suffered. “Have you had to see the doctors before?”
She shrugged, wiping down his uninjured arm and making him squirm as the cloth swiped his armpit.
“Sorry,” she quickly whispered.
Embarrassment nailed him. Damn, part of him felt like a heel for allowing her to continue with the sponge bath. Now that his pain med had kicked in, he could make do on his own, but her light stroking and soft caresses felt unbelievably good, and he wasn’t embarrassed to admit how much he liked being pampered. He was down with spa days regardless of the heckling he endured from T and Smits. The two chumps didn’t know what they were missing.
His eyes quickly perused her slight frame. “Well,” he persisted, desperate to know if she’d suffered.
“A few times. For nothing … horrendous.”
“What do you not consider horrendous?”
She glanced up at him, halting the bath. “The usual things one might expect: contusions, fractured ribs, a … gun
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