“That’s because it’s high off the ground and has nothing to do with me being injured.”
“Right,” he drawled.
“I’m okay, I can walk these next few feet on my own,” I said after he climbed the porch steps.
He looked down at me and I realized how close I was to him. I could see the whiskers on his neck and the deep, dark brown of his eyes. He smelled of woodsmoke, leather, and skin. Colt’s scent was distracting, and I instantly tried to breathe through my mouth so I wouldn’t do something stupid—like lean my head in the crook of his neck and sniff him.
“I’m not an invalid,” I stated.
He didn’t reply, and continued to hold me.
Fine. If Colt didn’t care that I wore pajamas and looked like a street orphan, then I wouldn’t worry about it either.
Lies.
The sooner I got cleaned up the better. I wanted to be ready when Zip returned—hopefully with my truck keys in hand—and then I would leave town.
Colt walked inside. The unmistakable smell of bacon and coffee teased my nose. Though I’d just eaten, my stomach growled. There was a rumble against my back and it took me a moment to realize it was Colt laughing.
I enjoyed the sound far more than I should have.
“Prez.” A scruffy blond man with gray eyes greeted Colt before turning his attention to me. “Is it adopt a lady-in-distress day?”
I snorted in amusement and put a hand to my head in fake torment. The blond man winked at me flirtatiously.
“Enough,” Colt snapped. “Fix her a plate of food and bring it to my room.”
“Your room?” I asked in surprise.
Colt ignored me as he went on, “Tell Joni where we are when she gets here.”
“Why does she need to see Joni?” Flirty asked.
“Look at her wrist,” Colt stated. Flirty’s gaze dropped to my arm, which I held up to show him. Colt wasted no more time and carried me through the clubhouse, past the brown leather couches and the kitchen. The place was clean, but it definitely looked lived-in.
Colt traveled down a long hallway and pushed open the door to a room that was small yet uncluttered. The bed was made, the gray walls were devoid of posters or photos, and the gray carpet was unsullied.
He stalked to the bathroom and deposited me onto the closed toilet so I could use it as a seat. Colt then went to the tub and turned on the water. Without looking at me, he commanded, “Take off your pants.”
“In your dreams, dude.”
He looked at me over his shoulder and grinned.
Holy. Hell.
I thought the man was dangerous when he was scowling? That smile had enough power to light up a city.
“Your feet need cleaning,” he reminded me.
“So I’ll roll up my pajama pants.”
“It’s not just your feet that need cleaning. Have you looked in a mirror?”
“Well, take me, sailor, you know just what to say to a girl.” I glowered but stood up and pointed to the door.
Colt rose and came toward me, crowding my space, but not in a way that was intimidating.
Sensual.