Leo stares at me. “You took apart a biometric security lock with medical scissors.”
I’m really enjoying the stunned expression on his face. “Yep.”
“In thirty minutes.”
“Give or take. There was some trial and error. And some sparking. And I may have gotten a few cuts and burns. But yes.”
He’s shaking his head, half in disbelief, half in what might be admiration. “You’re terrifying. You know that?”
That may be the nicest thing he’s ever told me. “You love it.”
“I really, really do,” he says and kisses me. It’s a soft and sweet kiss, like he’s trying to pour every emotion he can’t put into words into it.
When he pulls back, his eyes are suspiciously bright. “I’ll be right back.”
He disappears into the bathroom and returns a minute later with wet washcloths, a bowl of warm water, and the first aid kit.
“I removed the scissors so you don’t get any ideas.”
I roll my eyes as he sits back down on the edge of the bed and reaches for my hands.
“Let me see,” he says gently.
I hold out my hands and wince at the sight of them. They’re worse than I thought. Cuts from the wiring, bruises from pounding on the door, and burns from where the sparks hit my skin. My knuckles are purple and swollen.
Leo makes a low sound in his throat and starts carefully cleaning the blood away with the warm cloth. His touch is gentle, but it still stings.
“Ow—” I hiss when he hits a particularly deep cut.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, blowing softly on the cut before continuing.
He works methodically, cleaning each injury and dabbing on antiseptic. I manage to not say a word until he gets to the burns.
“Fuck—shit—goddammitLeo that hurts?—”
Even though his dark head is bent over my hands, I can tell the bastard is smiling. “I’m being as gentle as I can.”
“Well be gentler! Jesus Christ, are you trying to—motherfucker!” There’s another wave of stinging pain. “I swear to god if you?—”
“Language,” he says looking up and smirking at me, his dark eyes alight with laughter.
“Oh fuck off with that. You don’t get to tell me to watch my language when you’re the one—son of abitch!” I jerk my hand back as he touches another sensitive spot. “That’s it. I’m doing this myself.”
“Emma.” He catches my hand and brings it back. “I’m almost done. I promise.”
I glare at him but let him finish. By the time he’s done bandaging my hands and arms, I’ve cursed him out in at least three different languages.
His shoulders shake as he places some medical tape on my bandages. It annoys me.
“Something funny?” I ask acidly.
“You’re cute when you’re cursing me out,” he says.
“I will punch you.”
“With those hands? I don’t think so.”
I glare harder. He just grins and kisses my forehead.