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“Yeah, except he didn’t shoot at us.”

“Stop being so cranky,” I told him, leaning forward. I turned around, a jolt of delight sparking through me when I saw Whitney.

She was wide awake, sitting stiffly in the corner, those big blue eyes scouring every inch of my face.

“You get it?” Cade asked.

I replied without taking my eyes off Whitney. “You were watching, why even ask?”

“Why do I even fucking bother,” Cade muttered angrily. “Brooks, give him the first aid kit. Please.”

I moved into the back, lowering myself down next to Whitney. I let my head fall back against the seat, rolling it toward her so I could stare to my heart’s content.

Her gaze locked onto mine. “Hi,” I said, offering a small smile.

She looked so distraught I just wanted to pull her onto my lap and wrap my arms around her. “Hi,” she whispered, finally dragging her eyes from mine. She trailed them down my body, settling on my injured leg.

I didn’t want to deal with that right now.

Her voice was a little unsteady and tinged with concern when she asked, “Are you okay?” She furrowed her brows and scowled at me, as if realizing she’d expressed concern or care of any kind. “Never mind,” she said quickly, turning to look out the window.

I wanted to laugh. She couldn’t even let herself show concern for me even after I’d been shot. What would it take? Dying? God, she was gonna be a tough one to crack. And I couldn’t fucking wait to keep trying.

My heart was pounding furiously as I took the first aid kit Brooks silently passed back to me.

Are you okay?

Those three words from her melted into my bloodstream and heated every inch of my body.

Was she really worried about me? And why the fuck was that turning me on so much?

She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself even though she was in long sleeves. I snapped at Cade to turn the AC down.

I set the first aid kit on the seat between me and Whitney, then rested my arm on the seat behind her, surreptitiously adjusting my achingly hard cock while her head was turned.

My hand was right behind her head, and I couldn’t see any part of her face because her hair was covering it. I couldn’t stop myself from reaching forward and tucking her hair behind her ear.

“You worried about me?” I asked quietly, brushing my thumb down the shell of her ear, rubbing the soft lobe between my fingers. Her ear was warm and getting visibly red.

“No,” she snapped.

I chuckled quietly and earned a glare from her. “I’m okay. Everything went fine.” Except for getting shot and not finding the code, but that didn’t need to be brought up right now.

“I wasn’t worried,” she lied, batting my hand away from her ear.

“Mm. Alright.” I sifted a strand of her hair between my thumb and forefinger, feeling its softness. I wanted to smell it. I wanted to wash her hair with my shampoo, to cover her in my scent from head to toe.

I couldn’t wait until we got home and she slept in my bed.

After a few minutes of silence, she looked down at the first aid kit, sighed heavily, and shifted so she was facing me. With steady hands, she popped it open and said curtly, “Lift your pants up and show me the wound.”

Fuck. The stern command in her husky voice sent a pulse of heat straight to my balls. “Yes, ma’am,” I said, doing as I was told. Once the leg of my pants was rolled to just below my knee, I tilted my head to study the wound.

It really was just a graze. Nothing serious at all.

But Whitney gasped at the bloody gash, her eyes darting briefly to mine before falling to the kit. She picked out some gauze and a few tubes, medical scissors, and an alcohol wipe, then shoved the kit aside.

As she worked on my wound, her hair kept falling into her face. After the fifth time she had to tuck it behind her ears, looking visibly frustrated, I laughed quietly and gathered it all in my hands, holding it back for her.