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“I’m not stitching your arm. Call that doctor.”
I held up the kit. “You’re doing it. Get in the bathroom.”
“No. Call the doctor, you psycho. I don’t know how to stitch up a wound.”
“I’ll walk you through it.” I marched into her bathroom, opened her shower, and turned on the water. I unbuttoned my shirt then slowly peeled it off.
She lingered in the doorway behind me. I felt her eyes on my body as I dropped the bloody shirt on the ground. Blood rolled down my muscle as I opened the kit up and pulled out some clean gauze. I sprayed the wound with an antiseptic and began to dab along its edges and its middle, cleaning it as best I could.
“Don’t just stand there. Needle and thread’s inside.”
“It’s going to hurt. I’ll fuck it up and leave a scar.”
“I don’t give a damn about a scar.” I grinned at her and half turned to face her. I had plenty of scars on my body, scars from knives and worse littering my chest and abs. She stared at them like she wanted to catalogue each one, like she wanted to understand the pain that had followed them all.
She had no clue what I’d been through and she’d never understand it.
“Come on, Owain. This is stupid.”
“If you care so damn much, there are pills in the kit. Get them out for me.”
She hesitated, but then finally moved with a frustrated grunt. There was a bottle of Percocet at the bottom. She grabbed them, popped off the top, and gave me two.
I dry swallowed them then showed her the wound.
“Get to work, little diamond.”
“Is this another one of your insane tests?’
“Could be, or maybe not. One way to find out.”
“Fuck.” She closed her eyes. The bathroom began to fill with steam from the shower. “Fuck you’re insane. You really are crazy.”
“Sew my arm before you piss me off.”
She cursed again but found the needle and thread in the kit, opened the packaging that kept them sterile, and stared at me.
“Well, walk me through it then.”
I laughed, took a deep breath, and began to give her instructions. By the time she got the thread ready, the pills kicked in, and the first jab into my arm was only mildly excruciating.
She did a shit job. But of course she did. She was still in shock and barely functioning. But the simple task of sewing up my arm wound took her arm off the trauma of what happened long enough to snap her out of it, at least a little bit. She had to stop and start a few times, and I was sure that a lesser man would’ve howled in pain, but she kept her cool and concentrated, and eventually the wound was closed.
She sat down on the toilet. Her hands shook as she took out a bandage. I knelt down in front of her and took her hands in mine. Her chin lifted and she met my gaze.
“You’re okay.”
“Yeah. I know. You’re the one with the stitches.”
I tilted my head and let a smile tug at my lips. “You’re really okay, Leigh. You’re fine. You made it through.”
She chewed her lip. “I know.”
“You’re going to be okay. I promise. You’re okay.”
I leaned forward and pulled her against me. I held her tight for a long moment and let her body press tight against mine.
She didn’t cry. But she didn’t need to. I felt her slowly relax in my embrace. I felt her fear and pent up emotions and the shock that threatened to overwhelm her at any moment drift off into the air. Her muscles lost their rigidity and her breathing slowed down to a normal pace.
I pulled back and looked into her clear eyes.
“Come on. Now shower.”
“Shower?” She cocked her head. “Why?”
“Trust me. You’ll feel better.” I gestured at my arm. “I’ll do the bandage.” I took the kit from her and stepped back.
She watched me and I couldn’t read the look on her face, but I got to work cleaning the stitched wound one more time and bandaging it up.
Then she stood and stripped off her shirt.
I didn’t bother looking away. She knew I wasn’t going to and I didn’t feel like pretending like I didn’t want her. Her breasts barely fell an inch when she took off her bra and her eyes roamed over to me, giving me this strange, almost shy look as she bent down and took off her jeans.
Her smooth, creamy pale skin drove me wild. I was hard the instant I saw her pink nipples. Her long, gorgeous legs only made my self-control start to wither away. She stood for a moment in just her panties, then took those off, her gorgeous pussy bare for me, just a hint of black hair. She covered herself with her hands, but left her breasts naked for me, elbows pushing them together.
