“It’s already elevated to high hell.” Then her eyes widened as Seth lifted her injured leg by her calf and methodically removed a pillow at a time. Her breath came in small puffs. “What are you doing?”

“Elevating your leg,” he cooed as he hiked her leg over his shoulder, crouching low near the bottom of the bed. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yes,” she squeaked. “Very.”

He turned his head and kissed the inside of her thigh, one side then the next. He’d shaved his accidental beard, and she appreciated the smoothness of his cheeks. “I’m going to make you feel good now. Okay?”

“Okay.” Then she added, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His voice was a gruff rumble, and the heat of his breath licked at her center.

She let her head flop back onto her pillow, hot and cold at once. He was going to kill her. She was going to die. But, hey. There are worse ways to go.

Seth leaned back in the office chair and stared blankly at the ceiling. The lighting in the small office at the back of the restaurant was rather dim. Maybe he should’ve had some extra recessed lighting put in yesterday when the electricians were installing them in the dining hall. Nah. That probably would’ve been overkill. He should just let the interior decorator know the office needed a desk lamp.

As his brain prattled away, he realized how exhausted he was. He hadn’t slept in four days. In Mammoth, sleep proved elusive after watching Tara fall apart like a goddess against his mouth. And since they got back, it had been torturous not to see her while she rested her ankle at home. Three days of their disappearing time together was spent apart, and he felt the loss acutely. Maybe he should’ve snuck in through her bedroom window to see her. Ha! But he wanted to see her so desperately that he wasn’t above playing the role of a lovesick teenager.

Thankfully, she was finally back on her feet and working, but he was fast losing it. The temptation to snatch her and lock them in his bedroom for their last two weeks was growing stronger by the minute.

Not for the first time, he resented the time stamp on their relationship. Was moving to Paris that important? Of course, it is. Stop letting your dick steer the ship. He’d worked hard for the opportunity and couldn’t give it up lightly. Besides, Tara had made it clear that she didn’t want anything lasting.

His eyebrows burrowed together at the thought, his anger surfacing again. That douchebag ex of hers must’ve done a number on her. Her luck with love and relationships wasn’t much better than his. He knew there had to be more to the story to have made her so insistent that he was a playboy and all they deserved were four dates. To have made her determined not to give him anything more than that. He didn’t like it.