Dawson Bride (Wolf Brides Book 3) by T. S. Joyce Read Free Book Online Page A

gaze arched right along with him. The moon threw blue light and dark shadows across his illuminated collar bone. The left side of his chest was all taut muscle and shadowed indentations between tensed curves. One half of his abdomen belonged in some Greek painting and practically begged me to reach out and run my fingers down his skin.
    I’d never taken to imagining Ralston without clothes on like some of the other ladies in society, but I’d bet my smelly dress he didn’t look like Gable.
    My voice trembled as I stood. “No inappropriateness, remember?”
    “Take your dress off,” he said in a voice that was as deep as it was commanding.
    Okay then. I shrugged it off and clenched my eyes closed.
    “Can’t dress your wounds through your shift, Lucianna.”
    “Oh, right.” He turned as I shimmied out of it. The cool window air brushed against my skin and raised gooseflesh. I scampered to the bed and pulled a sheet up to cover my middle while Gable rifled through the provisions Doc packed.
    My skin was so vulnerable to his gaze. Every rake of his eyes against my flesh burned and heat drove further and further into my cheeks. What had I been thinking? I was fully awake now and in control of my mental facilities again and here I was, sitting completely naked in front of a man. At this rate, I’d be a working whore in some tawdry cathouse in three weeks.
    All the humor had left Gable’s eyes. Instead, a serious hunger lurked there that did nothing to calm my stuttering heart or the warmth that spilled into my center. He looked like he’d eat me right up, and I couldn’t seem to find anything wrong with it. How terrifyingly wanton I’d become.
    The bed creaked under his weight and I closed my eyes as he tugged and pulled at the wrapped bandages. Three bullets had ripped through me and one had nestled into my hip bone. Seven half healed holes to dress. I didn’t know how I was still breathing. They’d managed to miss my organs and maimed muscle instead. Doc said I was a walking miracle. Maybe I’d feel the same when I could move without the cane again.
    The bandages stuck to my skin and I gritted my teeth against any urge to make pained noises. Gable was a very brave man. I imagined he never even made a face when he’d sustained his injuries. His wounds were wide and deep and from the sadness that drifted from him, they’d likely cut straight to his soul. If he could survive whatever had happened to him, then I could get through a bandage change without a peep.
    When the stiff, stained wrappings were removed and in a tidy pile on the floor, Gable moved from injury to injury, gently prodding them. Was he smelling them?
    “Your stitches have busted on a couple of these and I don’t have a needle and thread to sew them back up. The scars will be bigger and you’ll have to be more careful on the boat to keep them wrapped, dry, and clean.”
    More scars. Goody. “Okay.” I was at a loss as to how I was supposed to change my own bandages on my back, but for the sake of sparing an argument in the wee hours of the night, I let it drop.
    He re-bound me with a steady hand until he got to the one at my hip. The blanket covering had to go.
    “I’ve already seen you, remember?”
    “Yes, but it’s different when I’m conscious.” I clutched the sheet tighter and admitted, “No man has seen me, you know, under my clothes.”
    A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth and his eyes held mine like they’d never let go. “No man but me.”
    I threw my head to the side with a squeak and tossed the blanket away. He could bind the injury, but I didn’t have to watch his reaction to my body.
    He was finished in moments and the blanket rustled against my skin as he pulled it slowly over me. “I don’t want to look at you until you want me to. It’s no fun if I’m stealing it.”
    He handed me my thin cotton shift and turned his back while I slipped it over my head. I scrambled into bed and he lay down on the floor