“Let’s get you out of these clothes.”
A scowl crept onto my face, and I suddenly clutched my torn clothes, realizing that I was naked underneath the thin fabric.
"I'm pretty sure I can do that myself," I said to him, and I watched as amusement danced in his eyes. For the first time, my gaze fell on my arm, and I was surprised to find the gruesome wound gone.
“You’re still recovering, so you shouldn’t do a lot of things yet till you’re completely better,” his voice was firm but gentle.
I crossed my hands across my chest as I pouted my lips, “Is that just an excuse to see me naked?”
“I’ve seen you naked countless times. The image is already imprinted in my mind,” he deadpanned as if it were a normal, casual, and appropriate thing to say.
Heat crept on my cheeks, and I quickly turned my gaze away so he wouldn’t see. Our bodies were so close, and I needed as much distance from him so I could think properly.
Sensing my retreat, he lifted me into his arms gently and swiftly. The unexpected motion caused my grasp on the torn part of my dress to slip off, and my breasts spilled out like falling watermelons. His gaze briefly shifted to them before fixing on my face.