Page 18 of Rise & Fall
“Shit,” I curse.
“Hang on.” Nolan sets down his beer and runs into the kitchen. He’s back within seconds with a first aid kit. “Here. Sit.” He pulls out a chair from the dining table and waits for me to sit down.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Are you okay?” he asks, opening up the kit and pulling out an alcohol pad and a band-aid.
“I am. But I’m such an idiot. I’ll buy you a new glass.” I feel embarrassment mix with the sting of the slice on my finger as I look at the ground where the evidence of my stupidity lies.
“DJ. It’s just a cup and some water. It’s not a big deal.” Nolan reaches for my hand and suddenly, every feeling racing through my body ceases as his touch takes over. It’s soft and electrifying all at the same time, the way he cradles my hand in his.
“Dakota,” I whisper, but I don’t really know why. Maybe because my mind is only connected to the sudden flush of lust I’m feeling and I desperately need to hear him say my real name, not some nickname my dad gave me.
“What?” He looks up at me for a brief second.
“My name, my real name. You can call me Dakota.”
He flips my hand over, palm up, so he can see the damage a bit better. Lightning strikes the sky again, or maybe it’s the lightning in my spine as his fingers rub against mine.
“This is going to sting.” I look up into his eyes, he’s focused on my wounds. “Dakota,” he adds, and I was right. It’s everything I was hoping for; the sultry trace of his tone winds its way to my soul in ways that make it impossible to not imagine him saying it in a different setting,
His teeth pulls on a small package as he rips it open and it’s the way he spits out the portion he pulled between his teeth that makes my breath hitch. He pulls the pad out and lowers it to my cut. I can’t help but watch him, feeling no ounce of pain as the alcohol pad swipes against my cut, until I look down and see the blood.
You’re a flipping nurse.Why are you being a big ole baby about a simple slice on the finger?
But I start to feel dizzy.From the cut. From his touch. From something. Oreverything.
“Hey, eyes up here, Dakota. Breathe.” I do what he says, unexpectedly loving the command he gives, and I rake my eyes up his body to meet his. I can feel when the cold burn of the alcohol pad sweeps across my skin again. It stings, but Nolan’s eyes are soothing all on their own, allowing me to relax.
I don’t break eye contact as he opens up the band aid and lays it over the cut on my index finger, then repeats the same steps for my thumb.
“Better,” he whispers, and I realize I’m still staring. But I can’t look away. He’s got me entranced.
“Thank you,” I say, still melting in his deep, brown eyes.
A dangerous smile crosses his plump lips, then seems to straighten again as he deepens his stare back. His hand is still holding mine, and I swear I feel him swipe his thumb across the flesh of my hand, right where the band-aid is. The small contact he’s giving me seems to be all my body needs to heat up and everything races inside me.
Call me crazy, but I swear Nolan starts leaning into me. His tall, muscular, but lean body seems to slowly close the space between us as he leans forward. I’m sitting, so I know I’m not crazy. But as soon as I feel like there’s no air left for me to breathe, I’m jerked back to planet Earth.
“I smell lasagna!” A little voice breaks up the tension building in my core as Nolan seems to jump back a little, proving that he definitelywasleaning into me.
Nolan takes the wrappers, closes up the first aid kit and heads back into the kitchen. I get up from my chair at the same time and realize that my mess is still on the floor.
“Snap, crackle, and pop! What happened there?” Aria is pointing at my feet where the broken glass still swims in a puddle of water.
“DJ. Did you pee your pants?” Emsley is now standing at Aria’s side, and I look down to see what she’s talking about. I smack my head when I notice my pants are soaked from the spilled water. I hear Nolan chuckle from the kitchen.
“No. I accidently dropped a glass of water and it spilled on my pants.” I see Emsley sigh in relief, probably because she’d feel embarrassed if her older sister peed her pants in front of her friends.
Nolan walks back over to where I’m standing, with a broom and some paper towels. But I can’t be near him right now, my body still hasn’t recovered from the contact he fed me, teased me with, and I need to splash some cold water on my face.
“Mind if I change in your restroom?” I ask, slowly scooting away the closer he gets.
“You know where it’s at.” He is also avoiding eye contact. He’s probably so ashamed, or he could sense my reaction and is so turned off. Either way, I don’t let it fester too much before grabbing my bag by the front door and darting down the hall.
I lock the door behind me once I’m in the restroom. The walls are dark blue, which makes the lighting seem super dim and moody, not helping the lust creeping around inside me.
I pull out my other pair of jeans from my bag and start to take off my wet pair. But as I get the button undone, my knuckles swipe against my underwear. They’re wet. I look down to evaluate, and the water I spilled didn’t touch that part of my jeans, just the front of them near my knees. But the feeling of the friction my knuckles create also doesn’t go unnoticed when I realize that I’m wet from something other than the spilled water.