“Ah!” Skylar cried out in pain as Joe’s grip tightened around her arm.
His eyes locked onto her, and they were sharp—there was no trace of drowsiness in them. His gaze was so intense, so dark, it felt as though it could devour the night sky itself.
His hand still gripped her arm with fierce strength, as though it could snap her limb in half.
“I was just trying to help you,” Skylar said tearfully, wincing in pain.
It was then that Joe seemed to realize what had happened. His expression softened, and a look of regret crossed his face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rough.”
His reaction had been purely instinctual. He had thought someone was trying to attack him again. In his groggy state, it seemed he had been transported back to that dark, ominous warehouse.
“Did you have a nightmare?” Skylar asked as she rubbed her bruised arm, feeling exasperated.
He had been too rough. If his hands had been around her neck, she had no doubt it would have ended terribly for her. She was beginning to question how much control he had over his instincts. Silently, she swore to keep a safe distance from him in the future. She didn’t want to end up hurt for no reason.
When Joe saw the bruises forming on her arm, his frown deepened. “Let me take you to the hospital,” he insisted.
Skylar shook her head. “No need. I’ll just apply some ointment.”
It was already past midnight, and the idea of bothering a doctor seemed unnecessary. The bruises would be minor, and she knew they’d heal within a couple of days with some ointment.
Despite growing up in the countryside, her skin was naturally delicate. Even the smallest bump left severe bruises. However, they weren’t serious.
Joe’s gaze lingered on her arm, the bruise clearly outlined by the imprint of his fingers. His frown deepened, and his mind couldn’t help but recall the intimacy of their earlier moment, which made his throat tighten with something he didn’t quite understand.
He quickly stood up, his movements abrupt. “I’ll go get the first aid kit.”
When he returned, he was holding a large box—more like a treasure chest than a first aid kit. The contents inside were meticulously organized, with an array of medications.
Joe rummaged through the kit until he found a tube of ointment. He didn’t look at Skylar as he opened the tube, then squeezed some of the cream onto his fingertip.
Skylar didn’t resist. “Okay,” she agreed quietly.
Despite his usually cold demeanor, there was a certain attentiveness in his movements. His slightly rough fingertips applied the ointment to her skin with surprising gentleness.
The room was quiet except for the soft sound of their breathing, their proximity making everything feel more intense. Skylar suddenly became aware of just how close they were—her heart fluttered in her chest as she realized their breaths seemed to be intertwining.
Joe’s gaze lingered for a few seconds on her long, trembling eyelashes.
“That should be enough,” Skylar quickly said, seeing him squeeze out more ointment.
Her skin was sensitive, not fragile, and she knew he wasn’t being careless. His gesture was responsible, and she wasn’t angry anymore.
Joe’s eyes darkened as he looked at the glaring bruise on her fair arm. He glanced at his watch. “Did I fall asleep?”
“Yeah, for about 40 minutes,” Skylar replied. As she stood up, she felt a wave of dizziness from the exhaustion setting in. “I’ll go rest now, Mr. Martin.”
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