Free Wanted: Devil Dogs MC by Evelyn Glass Page A

compress over his hand. “This should bring down some of the swelling. Now, take off your pants.”
     
    Wesley looks at her with a knowing smirk. “I appreciate the offer, Isabel, but I thought you didn’t mix business with pleasure.”
     
    Isabel feels herself flush, but pushes her embarrassment away. She has something more important to focus on. “Don’t flatter yourself, Wesley. From the blood on your jeans it looks like you’ve got a pretty impressive cut on your leg. Take off your pants and let me take a look.” When he doesn’t make a move she sighs heavily, rolling her eyes. “Come on, slick. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
     
    He raises an eyebrow at her, but he doesn’t protest. Slowly he stands up, unbuttons his jeans and lets them fall to the ground, not taking his eyes off of her at any point. He stands in front of her, his black Calvins not doing much to hide the fact that the man is incredibly well endowed. Isabel swallows hard, battling against the dryness in her throat that seems to have come upon her suddenly.
     
    “Take a seat.” Her voice comes out quietly and she busies herself focusing on the gash on his leg. It’s not deep, and it doesn’t look as if it’s just happened either. It’s ragged and there’s some scarring around it that looks like burn marks. She cleans it with the iodine solution and wraps his thigh in gauze. Isabel can feel his eyes on her, but she keeps her attention focused on the task at hand. “It looks like you’ve opened an old wound.”
     
    He waits a beat before he responds, as if he’s weighing each word. “You seem to know what you’re doing. You patch up a lot of your tenants before?”
     
    Isabel looks up at him, smiling then. “No, I can honestly say that you’re the first.” She tilts her head, assessing the cut above his eye and deciding what to do with it. Her line of sight drops down to take in his dark chocolate irises that feel like they’re pulling her into his orbit. She feels herself leaning in closer to him without even meaning to. She clears her throat and looks away, breaking the connection between them. “I’m going to need to stitch that.” She nods towards his eyebrow as she rifles in the extensive first aid kit for a needle. When she finds one, she takes the kettle and runs some boiling water over it to sterilize it. It’s a good excuse to step away from him, even if it’s only for a minute. When she’s around him she feels like she can’t quite catch her breath, everything feels more intense, louder, brighter. Being around him is an overload to her senses.
     
    “Blood doesn’t bother you.” It’s a statement but the question is implicit.
     
    Isabel shakes her head, dipping the needle into the boiling water a second time for luck. “It never has, really.”
     
    He doesn’t push the point and Isabel feels grateful that he’s not quizzing her, despite the fact that he’s obviously curious. She takes her seat in front of him again and focuses on his eye that she sews up in a less than a minute. He doesn’t flinch when the needle meets his skin and Isabel wonders how many times he’s been stitched up before. He catches her eye as she lowers the needle, pinning her with his gaze. She feels herself drawn into him again and it’s a physical pull she has to actively resist.
     
    “Well, you’re all set. Although I wouldn’t do any of you signature eyebrow raises for a while if you don’t want to risk pulling out your stitches.” She watches as his face breaks out in a grin. If he’s handsome when he’s serious, then when he smiles, really smiles, he’s heartbreaking.
     
    “My signature eyebrow raises?” He gives her a knowing look that makes her blush.
     
    “It’s your move.” She teases him, smiling broadly. “Bet it works like a charm on the ladies.”
     
    “Some, not all.” He stares at her with those deep, dark eyes of his that seem to speak volumes and only to her.
     
    Isabel feels