Possessive Billion Dollar Man

Mr. Tension

In just one day I've been carried and man handled by a stranger. I couldn't believe I was here twice in a       day, in Jesse's apartment.

After Jesse provided a police statement and the paramedics went to check in if I was hurt, he took me back to his place. I did not have the energy to argue about it.

He carefully placed me down on his bed, like I am a fragile glass, and walked out before reappearing again with a white box. I knew instantly that it was a first aid kit.

He took my hand in his as he inspected my arm. His touch was soft, and his skin was warm in spite of the evening coolness. "I'm fine," pulling my hand away from his firm grip, my eyes wander to his bruised knuckles, "your hand."

He followed where my eyes lingered, at his fist that had turn red and clothed with blood from the beating. I only wish that was not his. I suddenly felt guilty for the fact that he was hurt because of me. Upon inspecting him closely, I could see scratch marks on his arm and a bruise on his right cheek. I didn't even see him get hit once.

"I am fine," he shrugged. "It's nothing, look I'm fine." He moved his arms and head aimlessly, trying to prove a point.

As if he didn't feel a single pain. He walked to the bathroom and came out with a bowl filled with water, and then he sat next to me on the bed and began to open the first aid kit bag. His eyes focusing at the task at hand.

He is awfully quiet. I didn't know if that bothered me more than hearing his stupid remarks.

He scanned my face, spreading his thumb on the corner of my lips and wiped the blood that I didn't know existed. I was nervous and oddly excited by that brief touch.

"Jesse I think you look far worst than me, let me help."

"You should have waited for me," He said softly. There was no hint of anger in his voice, but deep down I could tell he was furious. With the wet towel, He continued to wipe the dirt from my arms. Pressing gently, but effectively to clean my wounds.

I could feel the warmth radiating off of him. And It was not that I was unfamiliar with being taken care of, but I do know that I was not used to it. My heart began to pound so hard I could barely breath. As his fingers lingered, I suddenly felt the tension in the room. It was hard to ignore.

He held my face, and stared deep into my eyes. He cocked his head to one side and gave me a soft, almost heartbreaking smile. "Beautiful. "

I looked down at my tangled hands, not being able to meet his stare. My hair hopefully, covered those tainted blushed cheeks.

"Look up," he ordered. "You really scared me today."

"You know it's not normal for you to feel that way for someone you just met."

He blankly stared at me.

"Anyway thank you," I quietly mentioned. I knew I was telling him how to feel, but I had to reassure him that nothing about this whole thing is normal.

I grabbed the towel from him almost immediately and dipped it in the bowl of cold water. Compressing it, I took his left hand first and began to wiped all traces of blood away; I did the same to the right side of his bruised cheek.

"It's fine, I can do it by myself," he said, amused by my attempt. He doesn't like to be help does he? He thinks he's so strong that he could just handle everything by himself.

I did not reply to his order, because frankly I do not take orders from anybody.

Now that the bruises were visible, I swapped his fist and cheek with alcohol. He winced as he struggled not to flinch. I could feel him tugging at times.

I took a bandage and began to wrap it around his injured fist. "You can go to the doctor and get this wrap properly, this will do for now."

He kept his gaze on me, those blue orbs watching me intensely.

Ignoring him, I stood up and began to pack the first aid kit up and threw the now red water in the sink. I washed the towel over and over to remove the blood and the alcohol stain.

I thought silently for a few long moments at how absurd today has been. Jesse watched me, his hands deep in his pockets. He showed no impatience, and I saw genuine concern in his face, something of which I felt I had little experience.

I found it frustrating at how flustered I feel around him, yet I felt at ease.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing, really," I said, heat rising into my face.

He closed the distance between us. "Tell me. Did I say. something wrong?"

"No." I stepped back to regain my balance, clearing my throat from all this unnecessary tension, "I was just thinking how to get home."

He squinted his eyes, and placed both his hands on the sink, entrapping me, "okay, I will take you."

I really felt like I was going to die from how irregular my heartbeat has been since I met this man.

Even after he dropped me off, I could still feel his touch lingering on my skin. I was in deep trouble.

I let him took me home