His Sinful Desire
The heat of his fingers lingered on my skin, his touch surprisingly tender, as though he was handling something fragile.
"Don’t worry,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “I’ll be gentle.”
A shiver ran down my spine, and I felt my breath hitch as he continued tending to my wound. My cheeks grew warm as I tried to steady myself, focusing anywhere but on him. This man had just shot someone without a second thought, and here he was, cleaning up my injury as if it was nothing.
“Idiot," I chastised myself internally, trying to quash the unwelcome thoughts. But every time his fingers brushed my skin, I couldn’t help but feel a spark. He was silent, fully engrossed in what he was doing, while my mi
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