Shades of Sins (New York Sinner Series Book 2)

21| Wounds

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Wounds

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Chapter 21: Wounds (Anastasia's POV)

My eyes followed him around the counter, watching as he crouched down and grabbed the first aid kit, leaving it on the counter as he washed his hands before returning to my side, swiftly rolling his sleeves, and bunching them at his elbows. 

I stared at him, still clutching my side with one hand, feeling the blood as it soaked through my shirt and tainted my hand. "I can do it myself," I said quietly, trying in one last bleak attempt to get rid of him. 

The wound was the least of my concerns. No, I was worried about Dante and him being in my home in such proximity. I was worried about crossing lines that shouldn't be crossed, not again. I was worried about keeping my hands to myself while I hoped his restraint and self-control would be stronger than mine. 

His eyes drifted from my side until he met my gaze. An exasperated sigh escaped him, "Must you always be so difficult, Ms Vitalio?" 

All I could do was remain silent as I blinked, watching him slide the barstool aside with his foot and take a step closer, stopping as his front brushed against my knees. "Come closer," he demanded. 

"I think we're close enough," I said, my breaths strained as I avoided his gaze, turning to open the first aid kit with my free hand. 

My gaze traveled up his fingers, his hands, and the veins crawling up his arm as he reached forward, planting one hand at the small of my back and the other behind my knee, tugging me closer until I slid to the edge of the counter while he eased my knees apart, stepping between my legs. My breath stuttered as my hand flew to his chest to catch myself, afraid that I would slip off. 

"I won't repeat myself," he replied, lifting a brow at me simply. 

Exhaling shakily, I let my hand drop to the edge of the counter as I gripped it, blood rushing to my fingertips until they ran cold, my knuckles turning white. 

"Let me see," he said softly as I felt the gentle caress of his fingertips around my wrist when he pulled my hand away from the wound, glancing at all the blood staining my palm. 

I was bleeding more than I thought... 

A rough breath escaped him as he reached for the towel and pressed it against my palm, swiftly wiping all the blood off before tossing the rag aside. All I could do was sit utterly still as he grabbed cotton pads and doused them in alcohol. 

"This wouldn't have happened if you had just listened to me," he mumbled, lifting the hem of my top up to my ribs, exposing my skin. 

"Listened to you?" I scoffed softly, rolling my eyes. "I did listen to you, Mr Rossi. You didn't listen to yourself." 

His eyes cut to mine before dropping to the wound again. He began by gently cleaning the blood around the wound, wiping the stains off every inch of my skin. 

My eyes traveled across his face repeatedly, trying to read his expression, trying to get a glimpse of what must have been going through his head. A loud wince escaped me as I physically jumped, a sharp, stinging pain shooting through my side. "Ow!" I hissed, glaring at him as I shoved his hand away. "Care to be a little fucking gentle?"