Cakes, Country Clubs, and the CEO [h.s]

Chapter 3

"We should probably clean this up" he murmurs, more so to himself then me, once again eyeing the gash. It definitely wasn't a pretty sight, and I had to agree that it was definitely in need of some tending to. However the thought of Harry being the one to do it was more unerving than the actual cut itself.

"Oh no, don't worry about little old me. It's already healing see" I point, even though the blood trickling from my hand to my wrist completely contradicted the statement.

"Mhm" he teases, the corner of his mouth pulling up slightly. But as quick as that small uplift came, it was gone. "There's some bandages in the kitchen, just follow me" he huffs, stopping momentarily to seemingly consider something. As if fighting himself in his head, he eventually gives in letting out a quiet, "please".

My mouth gapes open, but I quickly shut it not wanting to seem too flustered with Harry's use of manners. Instead, I silently nod my head and follow close behind him, cradling my hand towards me to avoid messing anything else up. God knows with my luck that I would end up staining a priceless antique couch or painting.

For all I know, they could have the original Mona Lisa hiding in the hallway somewhere. And I'd stain it with my bodily fluids.

Expectedly, the kitchen was elaborate and expensive looking, but of course absolutely gorgeous. Certainly a sight for sore eyes.

Much like the man standing just feet away from me...

Harry rummaged through the drawers and cabinets of the kitchenware, until a small First Aid kit was produced. Placing it up onto the marble island countertop, he opened it and scrambled through until he had the necessary tools for cleaning up my hand.

Taking my hand into his own, he turned to the kitchen sink, dampening a cloth he would use to clean the blood and disinfect. "This might sting a little" he admits lowly, bringing the dampened cloth up to my palm to wash away the staining blood.

I suck in a low breath, the water stinging my cut more than anticipated, pulling my hand away slightly. Doing so only leads to Harry tightening his grip on my wrist in an attempt to sturdy it. A small apology escapes him, however he continues with my cleaning up the mess of my palm.

We continue silently, him working and me watching. The entire time, I'm not quite sure what to say, and instead choose to say nothing at all, more so for his benefit.

Wrapping a large bandage around my palm for good measure, he releases my hand and immediately goes to toss away dirtied wipes. Seemingly done with my hand, an idea pops into my head.

"You know what would make me feel even better", I slowly question, not quite sure where I'm going with the statement. I bite at my lip, as I look up at Harry waiting for his response and reassurance to continue.

Although he gives me a questioning look, he gives a short nod, motioning for me to finish with my question.

"If you would kiss it better", and I go to hold up my hand to him, giving him a visual representation of what I mean.

As much expected, his eyes instantly narrow, shaking his head, in what seems to be either disappointment or disapproval. Possibly both.

"Is that a no?" I mumble, looking back at him with upturned lips.

"Yes" he bites back almost immediately, tone laced with seriousness, unlike mine.

"So that's a yes.." I continue, trying my best to egg him on.

"No" he growls, obviously growing more agitated by the second with my taunting.

Don't get me wrong, I was extremely appreciative of his efforts in fixing up my wound, but the exchange occurring now just felt necessary. I couldn't stand the seriousness and this seemed the best way to lighten up the tense air.