He stepped around the back of her chair so that she couldn’t see his face or anything stamped across it that might betray his thoughts. Carefully, trying not to touch her skin, he lifted her shirt away from the side of her neck, easing the loosened collar over the bandage on her shoulder. She had beautiful skin, he thought, his eyes tracing the graceful curve of her shoulder where it met her neck. Smooth and soft, begging a man to run his fingers over it. Or press his lips to the sensitive spot just below her ear. It was a crime to conceal such beauty under layers of rough homespun. It should be showcased in silk and satin.

Or better yet, nothing at all.

Flynn gritted his teeth against the arousal that surged through him. His job, at the moment, was only to examine her wound to ensure her health. Not to fantasize about what she would look like sprawled in his bed. Not to imagine what it would feel like to curl his fingers through her thick hair and taste all that gorgeous skin.

He went to work on the bandage he’d secured and gently unwound it. He removed the pad of clean linen he’d placed over the stitches and peered at the cut.

“What does it look like?” Charlotte twisted her head, trying to get a glimpse and blocking his view in the process.

“I can’t see with you in the way.” Flynn slid his hand along the side of her head just above her ear and tilted it back, her hair as soft as he had imagined it would be under his fingers. Unable to help himself, he placed his other palm against the exposed skin at the back of her shoulder blade. It, too, was as soft as he had imagined it would be.

He, on the other hand, was as hard as a rock.

Beneath his touch, he felt her shiver. “Are you cold?”

“No,” she whispered.

It would be so easy to bend his head and place a kiss at the side of her neck. It would be so easy to slide his hands beneath the loose fabric of her shirt to explore more of her glorious skin. To pull away the bindings and trace the slight curve of her breasts. To run his palms over the span of her rib cage to the waistband of her trousers. And in doing so, he knew he would not stop there.

But he would stop now.

Because Charlotte Beaumont deserved better than his libido. She deserved his respect. This wasn’t a game to either of them.