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“Can you see the cut now?” he asked.
I shut off the razor and nodded.
It was then that I backed up slightly to admire my handiwork and felt it.
I’d been very, very careful about touching him, only using my hand on his face and the razor to tilt his head where I needed it.
But when I moved sideways, it was to feel…
I ignored it and tried not to think too hard about it.
Men got erections.
Men. Got. Erections.
Oh, my god. Tide had an erection.
I tried super, duper hard not to glance down and look at it, but it was futile.
Luckily, when I glanced, it was to see him examining the cut with a mirror that he’d laid on the rolling tray. Completely ignoring me and the way my eyes kept glancing at his dick that I could make out, quite clearly, through his jeans.
“What are you thinking about so hard over there?” he asked as he glanced away from the mirror and over at me.
“You…” I answered, then winced.
“Yeah, it’s gonna suck getting this done,” he grumbled. “I don’t have access to the meds since those codes are given out sparingly. Meaning, we’re gonna have to do this the old-fashioned way.” He pointed to his chin. “Also, you need to take this back another quarter of an inch. To give yourself room for the stitches.”
I moved, but this time was different.
This time, he moved so he could see the mirror as well as face me as best as he could, and when he did that, it forced me to straddle his leg in order to get to the important things.
By doing the straddling, I also was unable to stop from feeling his cock brush against the inside of my thigh, seeing as the bulk of it was stretching down the pants leg I was currently straddling.
I didn’t pretend to not feel it this time. There was no way in hell either of us could pretend otherwise.
I turned on the razor, hoping that it would distract him.
It didn’t.
His next words confirmed that.
“You gonna fix that, too?” he rumbled.
I felt my stomach tighten at his words and finally allowed myself to admit the truth.
For tonight, I wanted him.
For tonight… I’d allow myself to have him.
“Maybe,” I admitted, placing a little more of my weight onto his lap.
He growled, the sound so sexy that had I been made of weaker stuff, I would’ve self-combusted.
“Jesus Christ,” he hissed, his hands going to my hips as he pulled me the rest of the way down.
The moment I felt his cock, the full length of it, against my leg, I froze.
One hand was still holding on to the side of his face, while the other held the electric razor.
The buzz of the razor was the only sound—besides my exaggerated breathing—that could be heard.
“Get this finished,” he urged.
I tried to sit up, finding this position just as hard to get to his face as the other, but he held me in place.
“No, do it from right there,” he ordered.
I licked my lips, then tried to shut off the burning need for him and the cock that I could feel.
I shaved the last little bit that he wanted me to do with shaky hands, and even though I was distracted as hell, my heart was beating a million miles an hour, I did a damn fine job.
“You’ll have to go with the goatee and mustache,” I murmured as I pulled away.
Or tried to.
His hands held me firmly in place as he said, “You can reach the table.”
He was right.
I could.
Yet, this felt oddly personal, and I felt like I needed space.
“Tide…” I hesitated, not liking the way that my heart felt like it was about to jump out of my chest.
“You can reach it.” He tightened his grip, letting me know without words that I wasn’t getting out of this without making a big deal about it.
Which, I wasn’t sure that I wanted to do quite yet.
Mostly because I wasn’t sure that I hated this position. I wasn’t quite sure that I hated anything about Tide.
Which was weird.
Not fighting with Tide was weird.
I reached backward and pulled the table toward me as I said, “Tell me what I need first.”
“You’re going to need to clean the area first,” he explained. “Those…”
For the next few minutes, with Tide’s leg—and cock—between my thighs, I cleaned his wound.
He helped get the suture kit ready, and then he was gritting his teeth as I got to work.
At one point, my legs started to complain about the hovering position that I was holding, and instead of fighting the inevitable, I dropped down until my weight was sitting on top of his strong thigh.
We both groaned at the new contact.
His cock was still long, thick, and hard. And the throbbing I’d been denying of my lower region now felt like a second heartbeat.
