Hard to Handle by Jessica Lemmon Page B

those brown eyes up at him as one hand fisted the side of his shirt.
    Those petal soft lips parted and all Aiden could think was tasting her…until her eyebrows slammed down and she barked, “What the hell are you doing?”
    “What the hell am I doing?” Aiden asked as she backed away from him. “What the hell are you doing?”
    Her eyebrows shot up. “I’m working.”
    “Looks more like you’re trying to get yourself killed.” He didn’t mean to raise his voice, but she was yelling at him. She should be thanking him.
    Aiden palmed his right shoulder and winced. Now that the adrenaline had ebbed, his shoulder was beginning to throb.
    Sadie’s reached out a hand. “Are you okay?”
    “Fine,” he said. “Probably just a scratch.” The pain wasn’t intense. After the bike wreck, intense took on a whole new meaning. Nothing before or since had hurt worse than his back after he’d played chicken with a tree…and lost.
    He pulled his hand away to find red liquid on the tips of his fingers.
    “Aiden!” Sadie clasped his wrist. “You’re bleeding!”
    Pshaw. Merely a flesh wound. “I’m fine.”
    Sadie’s frown deepened and she latched onto his wrist, dragging him with her as she sidestepped various mufflers, oil filters, and dash panels scattered across the floor. “Where is a first aid kit?” Her grip was tight for a little thing. She was squeezing his forearm so hard he wasn’t sure if he wanted her to give him first aid.
    “I’m fine.” He stopped walking and she sent him a glare over her shoulder. “Bathroom,” he said, giving in and gesturing to the right.
    Sadie led him in and opened the mirrored medicine cabinet, rooting around until she found bandages. “Sit,” she commanded, pushing him onto the toilet seat. She wet a pile of paper towels and turned back to him, plucking the edge of his shirt. “Off.”
    “You’re bossy, do you know that?”
    “Take your shirt off, Aiden.”
    What he wouldn’t give for her to be purring that into his ear instead of barking it at him like a drill sergeant. No, actually, that worked, too. He hid his smile as he tugged the neck of his shirt and pulled it over his head.
    Sadie dabbed at the cut, her ministrations gentle. “I had it,” she said, her voice soft. “You just scared me.”
    “You did not,” Aiden said, winding his shirt in his hands. She swiped again and he sucked air through his teeth, frowning over his shoulder at her.
    She gave him a tight smile. “Sorry.”
    Aiden turned back around. “Next time you need something back here, ask for my help.”
    She switched from a wet paper towel to dry. “You were busy,” she bit out.
    Aiden kept his head down so she couldn’t see the curve of his lips. So he hadn’t imagined her reaction. Her over reaction. How interesting.
    He heard the tear of paper, saw the movement out of the corner of his eye, and waited for her to lay the bandage over his cut and give it a pound with one fist. Instead, she laid it on his shoulder and used gentle pressure to secure it at the edges.
    He turned his head slightly, weighing his next words. “Sonya’s married. That was her husband’s phone number she gave me so I could call him about a special order.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.
    “Sadie…” But her fingers moving away from the bandage to draw a long, slow line down his back made him forget what he was going to say. She was following the trail of his scar, he guessed. Most of it was numb from the nerve damage, but then, she knew that already.
    She’d touched him like this before, the morning he’d woken next to her. The morning he left to pick up breakfast to keep himself from begging her to make love to him. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted someone as badly as he wanted Sadie.
    He still wanted her.
    Her fingertips veered to his side, probably tracing one of the thorny branches of the tattoo wrapping around to his back.
    “When did you get this?” she asked