Hot Naked Guy As A Gift novel Chapter 3

"Charlie, what am I going to do?" How sad is it that I'm talking to my dog? But she's the only one I can talk to, I don't want to involve one of the girls, what if this guys is in serious trouble? I can't call one of them and have them come over only to find out this guy is a murderer or something. But, damn, I don't know what to do.

He groans in pain, body stretching, wincing at the pain of the movement and the room falls back into silence, the only sound is his ragged breathing. Charlie growls lowly and hops off the chair, pacing closer to the bed, baring her teeth at his unconscious form. He groans again and she tenses, crouching like she's ready to pounce on him as soon as he moves again.

"Charlie, what's wrong with you? Come on, out you go." I grab her collar and pull her towards my bedroom door, shutting the door, quickly, in her face before she can get back into the room. She barks, growls and scratches at the door, stopping when the guy groans again.

Biting my bottom lip I walk back over to the bed, pressing my palm against his forehead to see if his fever was gone. Its not and the ice in the bucket of water I brought up after I managed to get him into the bed has melted. Ringing out the wash cloth I lay it on his forehead, scowling down at him. "I wish you'd wake up and tell me what the hell happened to you. I cleaned you up all I could, but those gashes on your back are gonna need stitches." And I do not do stitches. No way, no how, not for anyone.

A little growl slips past his lips when I drag the rag down his chest and I freeze when his hand grabs mine, stopping it from moving any lower on his stomach. When I try to pull my hand back his grip tightens, making me swallow and peak up at his face through my hair to see bright blue eyes staring back at me. He frowns up at me, confusion settling in his eyes when he looks around the room, never once letting go of my hand.

I clear my throat, "Um, how are you feeling?" God, this is awkward. I don't know what I'm supposed to say, how I'm supposed to act. Hell, I think I was better off when he was unconscious, at least then I didn't have worry about him watching me, because its starting to make me nervous and I never get nervous.

He just blinks back at me, tugging on my hand, moving it slowly back up his torso to his cheek. Butterflies erupt in my stomach as the heat fills my cheeks and sparks of electricity shoot up my arm. Why do I have to attracted to the guy I found unconscious on the back porch of my house? Why couldn't I be attracted to a guy I know, one I don't have to worry about being a psychotic killer?

"What's your name?" I tug my hand out of his grasp, leaving the wash rag laying on his cheek and look around the room, not daring to look him in the eye. Looking him in the eye makes me feel funny and I don't like that I like it.

"I do not know." My eyes shoot to his when he speaks, going wide at the utter frustration and confusion in their blue depths. They're almost like swimming in the ocean, like no matter how hard you fight in the tide keeps pulling you deeper and deeper. And I am definitely being pulled deeper and deeper.