“You already know I can’t feel any fear about that,” Grayson said. “And I’m not gonna flinch. Pretend you’re cleaning a statue or something.”
“Astatue.” Reece scoffed. “I’ll admit you’re sculpted like something out of ancient Rome, but I can feel your warmth from here. Hell, I can smell you.”
Grayson glanced over his shoulder. “I didn’t get that sweaty.”
“Oh my God, you’re so vain,” said Reece. “You smellgood. Really,reallygood. I just want to keep breathing you in,” and okay, whoops, he probably shouldn’t have let that last part slip out. “I’m just saying: stop trying to pretend you’re anything but living. No statue smells like the hot guy in a cologne ad.”
He shifted closer on the bench seat, until they were only maybe a foot apart. With Grayson turned sidewise on the seat so Reece could get to his back, his broad shoulders filled the small space. There was more blood seeping from the cut now, without the shirts to absorb it. Redder, and too vivid against the gray light.
Reece bit his lip. He needed to clean it, but his hands were still shaky and the alcohol in the disinfecting wipe was going to be painful. “Can I...” He hesitated.
“What do you need?”
Somewhere along the line, the emotionless drawl had definitely shifted from unsettling to reassuring. Reece swallowed hard. “This is going to sting. Can I just touch you, like normal touch you, for a moment? Before I have to hurt you?”
His voice was unsteady too, and maybe it was a weird request, but Grayson must have understood because he nodded. “Sure. If you got those gloves on, you can touch me however you want.”
“Give a boy ideas, why don’t you,” Reece muttered under his breath. Grayson shifted slightly, and Reecereallyneeded to remember that super-hearing.
He reached out and carefully ran his fingers over Grayson’s shoulder blade, just above the gash. He traced up and across Grayson’s shoulders, avoiding the cut as he watched the play of muscles beneath his hand.
No, he wasn’t made of stone at all. Jesus, what Reece wouldn’t do to feel the warm, soft skin under his bare fingers. There would be no emotions to feel, but he’d still be touching Grayson.
“Damn, Evan,” he said, trying to keep his tone teasing. “You really aren’t kidding about regularly lifting things that weigh a lot more than me, are you?”
“Nope.”
Was it Reece’s imagination, or had Grayson’s voice changed? Tightened, just a little? Maybe Grayson couldn’t feel the emotion of fear, but his body could still feel the physical sensation of pain, and Reece needed to get it together and take care of that cut.
He reached out, gently as he could, to clean the cut with the disinfecting wipe, his own shoulders so tense they hurt. It had to sting, but true to his word, Grayson didn’t flinch. His steadiness helped Reece’s blood pressure, his breathing slowing and evening out as he wiped away blood.
“It’s not as bad as it looked,” he said with relief. “At least, in my empath opinion, which is decidedly not a medical opinion. But the bleeding seems to be slowing.” He spread antibiotic ointment on the gauze, then carefully put it over the cut, using the gentlest of pressure as he taped the gauze in place.
He leaned in close, running his fingers along the edges of the tape to make sure they were flat. “How’s that feeling?”
“Fine.”
Oh, Grayson’s voice had definitely gone tighter.
Reece glanced up. Grayson’s shoulders were tensed in a way they hadn’t been before he’d treated the cut. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No.”
That was clipped and strained even for Grayson. “Did I make it worse?” Reece said worriedly, running his fingers carefully over the area around the cut.
“No,” said Grayson. “Cut’s better. Good job.”
“Whatgood job? It’s not a good job if you’re still hurt!”
“I’m fine.”
“You’renot.”
“Iam. No reason to fret.”
“Of course I’mfrettin’,” Reece said, hearing his own voice gone higher and more strained. “I’ve never seen you like this. Your voice is all stressed and you’re completely tense—”
“Yes, sugar,” Grayson said, slow and patronizing and still tense. “Because a real cute guy has his mouth right by my neck and his hands all over me. It’s pretty much the opposite of hurt.”
