"Don’t move."
Dexter cut her off. His fingers loosened slightly but didn’t completely release her wrist. His gaze fell on her reddened knee, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I’ll go get the first-aid kit. This will be quick."
With that, he finally let go and turned to get the first-aid kit. His back was straight, but it held a subtle, imperceptible tension. The recent memory of her soft skin against his wrist brought back thoughts of last night’s madness, and a feverish heat once again began to spread through him.
Jasmine rubbed the wrist Dexter had gripped and silently cursed, ’That damned man.’ Watching his back as he fetched the kit, she fumed with impatience. Missing a chance to admire the male lead, Dylan Sinclair, was a small matter, but missing her chance encounter with Ethan Payne would be a real problem. Knowing that damn system’s usual antics, today’s encounter mission was a must-complete.
’If I miss the encounter at the hospital, it’ll just arrange another one for me somewhere else. And who knows when I’ll finally get to go home and rest then.’
Thinking of home, Jasmine suddenly remembered the ’dog’ she’d locked in her bedroom bathroom. ’I wonder if he’s awake yet. He probably won’t die from not eating or drinking for a whole day, right?’
Dexter returned with the first-aid kit and placed it on the table. Taking out iodine and sterile cotton swabs, he knelt directly in front of Jasmine. He pinched a swab, dipped it in the iodine, and gently dabbed at her swollen, scraped knee, carefully wiping along the edge of the wound.
The sting of the iodine instantly spread through the wound, a sharp, cool pain. Jasmine’s leg flinched, her toes curling tightly as she instinctively tried to pull it back.
As if he had anticipated her move, Dexter didn’t stop treating the wound. His other hand shot out—quick, precise, and steady—and gently took hold of her ankle.
His palm was warm and dry. Though his grip wasn’t heavy, it had an inescapable control that held her restless leg steady. His fingertips unintentionally brushed against her delicate skin. His voice was as flat as before, yet it held a subtle, gentle reassurance. "Don’t move. The more you move, the more it will hurt. If you don’t treat the wound promptly, it could get infected."
Jasmine froze. The sensation at her ankle shot up through her nerves, somehow overshadowing the pain from her wound. She lowered her gaze to the hand wrapped around her ankle—its knuckles were distinct and strong. When she looked up at his focused expression as he treated her, an indescribable flutter stirred deep inside her.
’This damned man is actually kind of captivating when he’s focused on treating my wound,’ she thought. ’If I hadn’t read the original novel and known how crazy this guy becomes after the heroine chooses the hero, I might have actually been fooled by this gentle facade.’
Dexter’s movements were very gentle, avoiding the most painful part of the wound. His fingertips occasionally brushed against the skin on her knee, the warm touch startlingly clear against her cool skin. He forcefully suppressed the distracting thoughts surging in his mind, keeping his gaze locked on the injury. "Bear with it. The iodine will sting a little."
His warm breath ghosted over her knee, carrying a light scent of cedar that seemed to seep into her very skin. A shiver ran through Jasmine as if she’d been zapped by an electric current. She instinctively tried to pull back, but he held her ankle steady, his control both gentle and domineering.
The pressure from Dexter’s fingers eased slightly, but he didn’t release her ankle. He spoke quietly, his voice a little deeper and huskier than before. "Almost done. Just bear it a little longer."
His gaze fell to her fair, slender calf. The skin beneath his palm felt delicate and warm, and her short, pained breaths lingered by his ear. A powerful urge surged from deep within him, an impulse to lean down and press a kiss to her leg. He abruptly tightened his grip, forcefully crushing the absurd thought.
"It hurts."
As Dexter’s grip suddenly tightened, Jasmine cried out in pain, her voice laced with a faint tremor. She instinctively tried to pull her leg back as tears welled up in her eyes. The crystalline drops shimmered, but she stubbornly held them back.
She’d always hated pain. For a moment there, she felt as if Dexter had nearly crushed her ankle.
’That damned man was definitely up to no good in his head just now.’
Dexter snapped back to his senses, his heart clenching. He immediately released her ankle, the delicate feel of her skin still lingering on his fingertips. A detectable trace of panic entered his voice. "Sorry."
He looked up, his eyes meeting hers, which were glistening with tears. They were dewy, like a startled fawn’s, radiating a certain vulnerability. Instantly, a wicked thought took root in his mind. ’I want to make her cry for real.’
This urge was even harder to suppress than the earlier one to kiss her leg. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he forced down the dark glint that flashed in his eyes. Lowering his gaze, he picked up a new cotton swab and resumed tending to her wound.
’No need to rush,’ he thought. ’I have plenty of time to play this game with her.’
’It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t remember what happened last night. I’ll make her remember eventually.’
"Be careful when you go home. Don’t get the wound wet for the next few days."
Dexter packed up the first-aid kit, stood, and returned it to the cabinet. When he turned around, he saw Jasmine was about to leave and added, "Remember to apply the ointment on schedule. Come back for a follow-up in three days."
Jasmine didn’t have time to dwell on why a minor scrape required a follow-up appointment. Her smile was sweet, but her eyes betrayed her urgency. "Okay, thank you, Doctor. I’ll remember."
The moment she finished speaking, she snatched her bag from the back of the chair and hurried out of the examination room.
Dexter watched her retreating back. He unconsciously rubbed his fingers where they had held her ankle, the delicate sensation lingering. That wicked urge to make her cry still stirred within him, now mixed with an indescribable possessiveness that made his Adam’s apple bob again.
His gaze fell to the corner of his desk, where he noticed that Jasmine, in her haste, had left a tube of lipstick behind. The case was exquisite, perfectly complementing her sweet demeanor.
Dexter reached out and picked up the lipstick, his thumb stroking the cool casing. A dark light swirled in his eyes as the corner of his mouth curved into the faintest of smiles.
’Little thing, we’ll be seeing each other again soon. You think you can kiss me and then not take any responsibility? No such luck.’
By the time Jasmine rushed to the orthopedics department at Capitoline Third Hospital, a nurse told her the doctor had already gone home for the day. Just as she was about to leave, she saw the door to the clinic open.
A tall figure emerged from within. The man wore a clean white coat, its sleeves rolled to his forearms to reveal the smooth lines of his wrists. A faint scent of disinfectant lingered around him. It was none other than Dylan Sinclair.
Jasmine stopped in her tracks. Her gaze landed on Dylan Sinclair’s face, and she found herself momentarily stunned. ’He really is handsome,’ she thought. His was an aggressive, almost roguish type of good looks.
His deep-set eyes tilted up slightly at the corners with a hint of nonchalance. His jawline was sharp and clean, following the line of his neck down to the collar of his white coat. He was rugged and dazzling.
’No wonder Yara Sawyer was so head over heels for him,’ she thought. ’With looks like these, who could blame her?’