It didn’t take me long to switch my mind back to Mr. Arrogant. This time, I wondered how the man came to get into a fight with some gangs in the first place. What had he done to get himself so messed up with those ruthless people? The more I thought about it, the more disturbed I was. Surely, to be able to stand up to some gangs in the city of Las Vegas, one would have to be very tough. And to even piss them off so much as to get them to beat you up, well, that was a whole other scary story to think about.

I was so deeply in thought about the possibilities of the man I had helped that when I heard the deep reverberation of his voice, I jumped in surprise.

“You think I could borrow some clothes?” he asked.

I raised my head, and the moment I saw him, my eyes widened at the sight in awe. He was tall and had a muscularly toned body, like those hot male models I’d seen in magazines. Beads of water droplets were sticking to his skin, and oddly enough, the sight of him in only a towel wrapped around his waist made my tummy quiver deliciously.

I licked my lips and asked stupidly, “Why?”

He cocked his head to one side and then did that sensual action in which he stroked his fingers through his blond hair, combing the strands back from his face. He cracked a smile when he said, “It’s not a good idea for me to walk around your house with only a towel around my waist, don’t you agree?”

I understood the meaning behind his words. Of course, it was inappropriate for him, or anyone for that matter, to walk around in only a towel in the house.

I stammered, my cheeks burning hot, “Yes… Umm… Dad’s clothes might fit you.”

“That would be great,” he said, waiting for me to act.

I moved my legs, heading toward the door, which was where he was standing. I halted in front of him, waiting for him to shift his manly self from the way. He didn’t seem to register that fact and instead gazed down at me with interest.

I felt flustered, and my eyes drifted from his face to his chest. The moment they did so, I swallowed hard. His muscles were toned everywhere. Up close, I noticed the scratches and bruises on his skin.

My heart ached for him. It must really hurt.

“It’s not that bad. It looks worse than it is,” he said, as if he understood what I was thinking and how I was feeling at the sight of his wounds.

“I’m used to it.”

Used to it? Did that mean he had had many fights with the gangs before this one?

Certainly I had no doubt about that, what with him treating this as if it was just another day at work or whatever.

“I see,” I said, my eyes glued to his chest, marveling at not only the toned muscles but at the smooth skin and the bruises and scratches branding him.

I felt my hands trembling, aching to touch him, which confused me.

Why? Why did I want so badly to touch this man’s body? Why was my core burning so hotly? Why was my heart racing so hard? Why was I finding it so hard to breathe? Why was the room so hot?

Without realizing it, my hands moved on their own. My fingers came to rest on his chest, touching and caressing the toned, smooth skin. Gently and lightly, my fingers trailed down toward his six-pack abs. I was mesmerized by his body and by what I was doing.

He caught my wrist and jerked me back to reality.

As I gazed up at him, my mind was in a muddle of confusion. God, I had never been like this before. Ever!

His face held in a dark scowl, he said, “Sorry.” Without further explanation, he let my wrist go and walked past me into the living area.

I watched him as he sat down on the sofa. That was when I knew I had done something wrong, something that pissed him off. But honest to God, I didn’t know what and tried my hardest to figure it out.

As I headed toward Dad’s room in search of a pair of jeans and T-shirt for Mr. Arrogant to borrow, my mind kept wondering what it was that I had done that could have upset him.

All I had done was touch him, so…

I shook my head and told myself to stop thinking about it.

A few minutes later, I was back in the living area with a pair of jeans and a gray hoodie in hand. I saw him applying antibiotic ointment on the scratches on the various parts of his body.

I came rushing to his side and said, “I’ll help you with that.”

“That’s fine,” he said, his tone cool and neutral. “I can do them myself.”

I didn’t understand why his refusal of my offer to help upset me. Normally, I wouldn’t think twice if someone waved my offer of help aside. But with this man…

With this man, I felt as though my heart was being crushed with a ton of bricks. What was wrong with me?

He flicked his eyes to me and said, “Are those for me?”

I returned my attention to the clothes and nodded.

“Thanks,” he said. “Just leave them here. It’s getting late. I’ll leave once I’m done, and I won’t bother you again.”

Gosh, he sounded like a schoolteacher or something—so damned commanding, that tone of voice of his. It was irritating, to be sure. No one had ever infuriated me like he did with just a few words.

I raised my head high, refusing to obey his suggestion. Just because he was older didn’t mean I had to listen to him.

I said, “I’m not tired.”

My defiance drew his undivided attention to me. He raised one brow at me as if in a challenge. He stated bluntly and logically, “You’re obviously a teenager, and a teenager needs her beauty sleep.” He was quiet for a moment and then chuckled. “If you’re concerned about me taking advantage of you, don’t worry. I’m not interested in young girls or women with flat chests.”

His outrageous proclamation made me blush intensely. In an instant, I felt my rage climbing. Gosh, I had never been this angry with anyone before. Upset, yes. Definitely. But to be so pissed…to feel like I simply wanted to punch someone, for that matter, had never happened before.

Where the hell did that come from? Honestly, what the heck was wrong with this man? One second he was smiling at me, and the next, insolent remarks like that came out of his mouth.

I was seething with aggravation and my body was trembling so hard I knew if I didn’t calm myself, I’d do something I’d regret, like really slapping him, adding more bruise marks to his already marred handsome face.

Really, in all of my seventeen years, nobody had ever made me so deliriously happy and then so peeved off in such a short space of time.

Without thinking, I really did act. I swung my palm across the space between us and slapped his cheek. Hard! A clapping noise echoed in the silent room.

It was only once my action was complete that I realized what I had done. I gasped out in shocked surprise at my deed, and I’m sure that was expressed on my face.

“Oh, my God,” I whispered under my breath, flabbergasted at myself.

My retaliation shocked him as well, into stillness. He flicked his sharp gaze to me, pinning me where I was. I could see the pale blue fire burning in those eyes of his, and I could read surprise and fury in them.

I held my breath, wondering with dread how he was going to react to me assaulting him.

Oh, God! What should I do now?

Suddenly, he cracked a smile and shook his head in amusement, his eyes now glinting with humor.

“I guess I asked for that,” he said smoothly. “Just another bruise to add to my face.”

His comment made me feel dreadful, but I was firm on my ground. His remark was uncalled for. Yes, I knew I was an unattractive teenaged girl, and yes, I had a flat chest, but that didn’t mean he had to put it that way. Like I was a thing of distaste that didn’t belong anywhere near him.

I held my head high and said, “Well, thank you for stating your innermost thoughts and desires in terms of the opposite sex. Just so you know, I’m not into guys who get into fights, and especially not ones as arrogant as you are.”

My eyes were bright and my heart was racing as I leaned toward him and continued sarcastically. “And FYI, I don’t find you attractive, either. Not at all!” With that, I stood up and headed to the door. There, I turned to face him and said, “You know your way out. And please don’t forget to clean up your mess in the bathroom and return my dad’s clothes when you can.”

Then I marched into my own bedroom, which was at the very end of the hallway, fuming in irritation and regret.

Gosh, I never should have helped him in the first place. I should have walked past him to the apartment building, pretended I had never seen him lying there all injured on the ground in the dark, left for dead.