Hare Moon

Then Think Again

"I love you."

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I can barely hear it myself, but the way his head snaps around you'd think I'd screamed it at the top of my lungs. My eyes grow wide and my face flames. I'd finally said it and already I regret it.

Oh God, I'm going to throw up.

His gaze is intense, body coiled as he leans closer, towering over me. I get the feeling he is about to blow up at me...or kiss me? I crane my head up and his heavy breath fans hot down on my forehead, sending tingles careening down my body. All is silent, save for the pounding in my ears.

"BB..." he breathes, gaze catching on my lips as I lick them nervously. His fingertips graze my bare knee, a feather touch, hesitant. Then firmer, trailing up, just under my dress to rest his calloused palm against my thigh. It's an innocent touch, but my breath still stutters.

"Och!" Milton jerks back and looks down. The stupid dog is tearing at his leg like a Dentastick. He shakes it, but the small pug holds fast and growls deep in its belly.

Milton snarls back, a low, dangerous sound that has even me pulling back a bit. The dog whimpers and backs away with one defiant bark.

"Bad dog! No biting!" I wag my finger and try to be shrill, because that's how my aunt always controlled it.

The pug pounces at me. Shit! I always known it's vicious. I raise my hands defensively and turn my face away. The thing lands halfway on my lap and tumbles back down before trying again, but it's stubby legs are still bandaged and it can't make the leap. All it does is scratch my legs on the way down.

"Ow! Bad dog! Go away," I say. It stands upright, placing it's tiny paws on my knees and wobbling on its injured legs. It's chin rests in my lap. Don't you dare look at me like that. Those wide, sad eyes do nothing to me. You interrupted something important and bit someone. I don't care if you look cute.

I huff and pat it awkwardly on the very top of its head. The dog was only trying to protect me. Our house was just attacked and it has been riled ever since. Plus Milton is a massive canine invading its territory.

Milton has pulled his pant leg up and is inspecting the shallow bite mark hiding among all that leg hair. I think his shin bone is going to bruise. I hurry into the bathroom and come back with a clean, damp cloth.

"Sorry. The dog hasn't been the same since my aunt passed, and after the attack..." I trail off as I kneel in front of him and dab at the leg.

"It's fine. It's a scratch." He seems amused.

I shake my head.

"I said it's fine, BB." His voice is gentle and he grabs my hand, halting my pathetic attempt at first aid. I look up to find a soft smile on his face. My heart lurches.

He slowly takes the cloth from me, keeping my gaze, and strokes over my palm with the rough pad of his thumb. A jolt of pleasure races through my entire being. Something other. Something I've never felt before. He looks down at the hand and cocks his head.

The look of horror that takes over is enough to dilute the joy circling my veins. I follow his gaze to see the scar from the time Erin knocked me with the knife. A dark pink line, raised above the rest of the lines. He studies it for a good minute, rubbing his thumb over the scar. At least it isn't his tongue this time.