“It’s nothing. I just scraped my knees,” I say softly as Lars pulls his entire medical kit from his bathroom closet. He lays every possible antiseptic spray and ointment on the counter along with gauzes, splints, and bandages.

“I don’t want it to get infected,” he says, frowning.

“Lars, I’m okay,” I persist, even though the sight of my knees all bloody and filled with hay and dirt fills even me with disgust. One knee looks worse than the other, but I can tell that they are both shallow. It’s not my physical wounds that hurt. It is what everyone must now think of me that really pains.

“I’m cleaning your knees. It’s my fault you got hurt and I can’t even do anything about your wrist.”

I look at my wrist, which is becoming blue.

“How is it your fault?” I ask. “I’m the one who ran from you and jumped in between you two.”

“I shouldn’t have let you walk off. Instead of listening to that fool Gary talk my ears off about his stupid tractor, I should have stayed with you. But I messed up and now you’re hurt.” His beautiful eyes look at me sadly.

I stare at him, unsure of how to convince him that he’s wrong. This situation is entirely my fault—or rather, Tamara’s.

If she hadn't starred in those sex tapes, that man wouldn’t have recognized me. If Tamara wasn’t such a bitch, my life could be so much simpler.

“You ready for this?” he asks, holding up a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. My eyes and mouth pop open when he pours it on my wounds. I watch it clean out all the dirt and hay from my cut. It hadn’t hurt much up until now.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers as he wipes the excess from around my leg.

I shake my head and take a deep breath as the pain subsides. “It’s not your fault,” I repeat.

Lars places a bandage with two different ointments over my less severe knee and sprays another antiseptic on the more damaged one. This one doesn’t hurt nearly as bad. Instead, it cools the pain temporarily. I watch as he works nimbly at retrieving a much larger bandage and gauze tape. He puts a few ointments on the bandage and carefully covers my knee with it. Once it’s covered, he wraps the gauze tape around the bandage to hold it in place.

“Thank you,” I whisper. He nods his head and continues looking at the floor. I notice a small cut on his eyebrow where he got punched. I grab a small antiseptic wipe from the counter and dab it over his brow gently.

He jerks back and I scowl sternly. “Hold still.”

I gently tend to the cut and place a small amount of Neosporin on it. Lars continues staring at me, but I ignore him and finish by sticking a Band-Aid on it. He leans his head into my hand and his hair falls over my fingertips. The urge to grasp it in my fingers…

I pause, trying to gain the control I need to finish the task at hand, but we both know that my control is gone.

“I’m such a fucking pervert,” he whispers against my palm.

“Why do you say that?” I ask curiously.

“Because I’m horny as hell even after I’ve seen you look like you’ve been attacked by a fucking shark.”

I giggle. “I scraped my knee, Lars.”

“It looked far worse. I hated seeing you get hurt. I wanted to fucking kill him.”

I bite my bottom lip. “About the sex tape-”

His finger lands against my mouth and he shakes his head. There is some great hurt in his eyes. “I don’t want to know, Tamara. I can’t take it. Not now. Not tonight.”

I nod. “Okay.”

My heart is beating so fast I hear it booming in my ears. I know what I want. Even if it is just one night. I want it. I’ll keep it in my heart for when I’m old. For when I am sitting in a rocking chair. That one night when I went to bed with the most beautiful man who ever walked God’s earth.

Lars stands to his full height and lifts me from the sink. I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his midsection as tightly as possible and meet his lips. He walks me backward and out of the bathroom into his bedroom.

His lips drown all reasonable doubt.

Lars carries me to his bed and lays me gently beneath him. “I can’t wait any longer. I need to have you,” he groans, pulling his shirt over his head and leaving nothing to my imagination.

I pull his bare chest into mine and say something that I know he won’t be able to resist. “I’ve needed you on top of me for weeks.”

With an animalistic sound originating from the back of his throat, Lars grabs the hem of my tank top and pulls it over my head. The flannel top falls over my arms and leaves me in nothing but a bra.

I groan at the pure bliss I’m feeling and my small sound seems to excite him even more. He arches his back and presses himself into me, which causes a louder, more frenzied noise to escape my lips. I wrap my arms around the back of his neck and pull at the tips of his hair while simultaneously pressing his head more tightly into mine. I can’t get close enough to him and closeness is what I need.