Page 4 of Merry Merry Biker

Finally, I had him close to the mattress, but not wanting him to get the sheets dirty, I proceeded to cut off his riding gear all the time trying not to think about how much they cost and simultaneously praying there wasn’t a lot of blood.

When he was down to his underwear, I gently manoeuvred him onto a sheet to clean him up. The tarpaulin was fine for moving him, but it was filthy, and I didn’t want him to get an infection if I could help it.

Taking a deep breath, I braved having a good look at all his injuries. He had bruising already appearing on his body, especially around his ribcage on the one side. From the looks of the bruising, it looked like his ribs were going to be bothering him for a while.

The worst injury seemed to be the gravel rash from where he’d skidded. While there was blood, it had clotted already and wasn’t oozing out, so I was good, even if I did have to take a few deep breaths and blink at one point to stop the blackness from taking over. I could just imagine what he’d think if he came to and found me passed out on top of him.

It took time to clean up his scrapes as best as I could without moving him around too much. Applying an antibiotic ointment that I’d picked up on my last trip out of the country, I also found a pack of broad-spectrum antibiotics in the medical box, checking the date on them to make sure they were still good. I was relieved to see that they were fine for two more months. I wasn’t sure yet how I was going to get them down him, but I’d worry about that later.

As I ran a clean washcloth down his abs to get rid of the last of the blood, I couldn’t help but take note of his muscular physique and all the different scars that were scattered along his body. It was like a road map showing that he’d lived a hard and dangerous life. I recognised most of the scars. They’d been caused by bullets and knives, for the most part, by the looks of it. Yep, there was no doubt in my mind that this man was dangerous with a capital D.

That didn’t stop me from thinking that while he may be dangerous,‘He was also one fine specimen,’I hummed to myself in appreciation as I swiped the washcloth across his body. A body that was solid muscle and I’m talking muscles on top of muscles. He must work out a serious amount to look like this. Not even the Crow men had this much muscle, and they worked out daily.

When he was as clean as I was going to get him with a cloth and water, I rolled him onto yet another clean sheet and tugged him onto the mattress with it. Groaning and panting for breath by the time I got him situated comfortably. Covering him up with another sheet and a blanket. I sat back on my heels knowing that the next job would be to remove his helmet.

Leaning forward, I unclasped it and gently manoeuvred it off, revealing a thick head of black hair, with hints of grey smattering through the sides. He had a groomed and well-kept beard. Evenpassed out and with some bruising, he was good looking. He was tanned for this time of year, so he must have been somewhere hot in the last few weeks. I felt around his head to see if I could find any lumps or blood, but his head seemed fine. The helmet had done its job. I could see a little bruising around his left temple. I wished he’d let me take him to the hospital. I was worried about his brain and if there was swelling or not.

“Why the fuck did I promise not to take him to the hospital?” I muttered angrily to myself.

“Because I asked you not to,” he replied gruffly.

With a squeak of fright, I started and nearly dropped the helmet that I was still holding on his face.

“For fuck’s sake,” I breathed out shakily, “give a girl a little warning next time.”

He gave a pained chuckle before replying, “How am I supposed to warn you I’m awake?”

Shrugging, I said, “I don’t know—clear your throat or something.”

He started laughing again, then groaned, holding onto his ribs where I could see bruising coming out.

“Stop laughing,” I ordered him. “Or wait until your ribs are healed a bit more. I really wish you’d have let me take you to the hospital. I’m worried that you may have internal injuries that we don’t know about, plus the concussion. You’ve been out a long time.”

He lifted a hand and cupped my cheek, turning my face towards him. My eyes caught and held his, my breath hitching slightly in my throat.

‘God, this man was delicious looking.’

There was something about him, even though he was all bruised up and could barely move, that called to me. Now that I could see his face, I knew he was quite a bit older than me, but my body didn’t seem to care and if I was being honest with myself, I didn’t care either. A familiar tingle was building in my belly as I looked into his eyes. A tingle I hadn’t felt in probably two years. I’d been too busy organising my life to be even remotely interested in dating.

It took me a bit, but I realised he’d been talking to me while I’d been daydreaming about riding the man like a pony. I needed to pull myself together.

“Sprite, are you listening to me?” he grunted, looking amused as if he knew where my head had been.

Shaking my head, unfortunately dislodging his hand from where it had been on my cheek.

“Sorry,” I apologised a little sheepishly, “I was wool-gathering. What did you say?”

A wide grin broke over his face, and it changed his whole look. There was something familiar about that grin, but I couldn’t place it.

“I said that I’m fine. I have a slight concussion, nothing’s broken, my ribs are bruised. Trust me, it’s not the first time I’ve had injuries like this. If I thought it was more, I’d let you take me to the hospital.”

I couldn’t help but be captivated by his blue eyes again. Pulling my gaze from his, my brow wrinkled with a small frown, I declared, “I did notice all the scars when I was cleaning you up. I’ll let it go for now, but if during the night you take a turn, I’m getting you to a hospital.”

Our gazes held in a stare, and I wondered which of us would blink first. I should have known it would be me, but I held my ground even after I’d blinked, “Okay,” I ordered needing him to give me an answer he wasn’t going to die on my watch.

“Okay, Sprite,” he agreed with a small smile.

“Lana,” I retorted.