The Sweetest Temptation
Chapter 224: Wound Dressing

Chapter 224: Wound Dressing

His entire being emanated a different kind of dominance from the current situation that he was in. That much was clear, and she could tell. Why? Despite his current state, her insides reacted to him in the most unexpected way. Wetness stewed from her depths, straining easily to reveal itself through her panties. She didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to endure his possessive hold. It did things to her arousal. How pathetic.

I would surely faint if he continued to hold me this way.

And that she was most certain of. With one quick intake of breath, she blinked and replied, "Alright sir, I won’t."

"Good," His reply had an underlying huskiness to it.

I really hope I did not imagine it because – Her thoughts were confirmed when she noticed the hint of a smile form on his lips. If he was smiling then that would only mean – all of this was happening on purpose.

He slid his arm off her waist and limped towards his office. She watched him help himself, with little to no effort. He was not so helpless after all.

In a gradual rise type of way, heat crept to her face. She rose her hand to her face and cupped her cheeks, willing her already warm skin to remain neutral as she closed the distance to his office.

"Do you need anything?" He asked her, as though it was just another day at the office.

Is he trying to act tough right now? He’s clearly losing blood.

"I should be asking you, sir." She replied, trying to maintain the professionality that their environment demanded. And then she remembered...she had used his name when they were behind that door, and he had nothing against it. Would he have a problem with it if she called him by his given name, right now? She questioned in her thoughts.

"Stella," He whispered, his words were slurred when he spoke. She jerked her gaze up, to her bewilderment; he was holding a glass of whiskey in his injured hand. His other hand was against his forehead, and his eyes were slightly drooped.

"I don’t – feel –" He mumbled the words as he drifted. Quick on her feet, Stella rushed towards him, took hold of the glass and gently placed it on the table.

"You’ve lost blood, allow me to help you to the settee." He allowed her. She draped his arm across her shoulder once more, and this time, most of his weight was leaned against her. Gently, and with ginger steps, she pulled herself towards the settee that, to her relief, wasn’t too far off.

She settled him into the cushion and pushed his hair off his forehead while she placed her palm on it. Luckily, he did not have a temperature. Otherwise, there’d be need to take him to the hospital, and she was sure he would not agree to that either.

I know what to do.

"Sir," She called as she rose her gaze to look at him. He was clearly in pain, barely able to maintain his consciousness. But she needed to take permission, just to be sure of her stand. "Since I am sure that you will somehow attest to the idea of an ambulance, I will have to administer first aid as quick as possible."

There was no reply.

What did you expect, ma’am?! She smacked her palm against her forehead as she rushed towards the whiskey bottle that was on his work desk. She helped him out of his suit jacket, and then his dress shirt. She paused momentarily as she beheld his utterly toned biceps, rippling with energy as he drew in sharp breaths.

Even in his pain, he managed to maintain – all of this. She roused herself out of her reverie and tore bits of his shirt, discarding the material that remained on the floor.

"This is going to hurt," She warned and balanced herself on the arm rest of the chair, for better access to his wound. Now that his clothes were off, the injury was clear. It was a clean cut from the middle of his upper arm through his elbow and towards the wrist of his arm.

Who could’ve been so heartless?! She thought to herself as she took the alcohol bottle. Without warning, she poured its content on his arm. What followed was a loud wail that seemed to reverberate around the office walls. Hopefully, his room was soundproof, so no one outside would hear the sound of his voice – if there was anyone.

The last thought made her gut twist with sudden awareness, they were the only ones left in the entire building of the office. But just as soon as it crossed her mind, she shook her head slightly, in an attempt to wade the thoughts out and concentrate on the task before her.

She’d done this for herself many times after Nolan’s attacks, but for small scale wounds. However, for one such as this, she could not imagine the great level of pain he was going through. She flung her arm across his shoulder, leaned her head against his and began to caress his chest, willing him to be calm as he shuddered violently.

"You’ll be okay," She cooed in a soft whisper, willing him to rest. After what seemed like hours, he sunk back in the comfort of the cushions and began to drift off. She got on her feet and retrieved the pieces of cloth on the table and began to dress his wound.

***

Matteo woke up to the sight of Stella, slouched in his chair, fast asleep. He noticed she had pulled his chair from his work desk and faced it towards where he slept, most likely because it was easy to move.

She’s even more gorgeous in her sleep. He thought to himself as he observed her from where he sat. He noticed the whiskey beside him and was about to reach for it when he felt a sharp sting on his arm; his wound. He hissed loudly, acknowledging the pain that shot through his being.

He had forgotten about it. He looked at his arm and noticed the precisely tied cloths on the area of his gash. She had been thoughtful enough to clean his wound – and she knew exactly what to do.

That much was surprising. How many times in her life was she tasked to do this, to be able to do it so neatly, and with so much ease as well?

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