AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’m taking a shower,” he said. “I want to wash the mud out of these cuts before I put disinfectant on them. You’re on guard duty.”
She sputtered with protest as he unbuckled the holster and the knife sheath. “But I don’t know how.”
“You did great with that Beretta,” he said. “You rocked.”
“But…” Her voice trailed off helplessly. “Isn’t this a bit excessive? I mean, nobody knows we’re here but Miles, right?”
“Right. It is excessive. It’s totally ridiculous. So is what just happened to us with T-Rex up at the lake. Any more questions?”
He shoved down his pants, which had the desired effect of choking off whatever other protests she might have made, as his hard-on sprang out, in all its undignified glory. Swaying back and forth, the flared tip as big as a ripe plum. Adorned with a drop of pre-come.
“Good Lord, Sean,” she said. “Talk about excessive.”
“Excess is the road to the palace of wisdom. Watch that door.” With that parting shot, he stalked into the bathroom, stepped into the plastic tub, and set the water running, as hot as he could stand it.
It stung in all his scrapes and cuts. It felt like getting flogged. He gritted his teeth and went at himself with the cheap deodorant soap.
He soaped and rinsed, soaped and rinsed, watching mud and blood and grit swirl around his feet and down the drain. He took his aching cock in his soapy hand, but he was too conscious of Liv out there, holding his gun in her shaking hands. Unguarded, while he panted in the bathtub, yanking on his tool. Nah. Didn’t seem right.
He rinsed the soap off, toweled off. The threadbare towel got smeared with pinkish bloodstains almost immediately.
Liv let out a sigh of relief when he came out, as if she’d been holding her breath the whole time. He followed her gaze as her eyes darted down to register if he was still—yep. Sure enough. Still was.
He took the gun from her. “Go take your shower,” he told her.
“You’re covered with cuts and scrapes,” she said. “Let me—”
“First, shower. You’ll feel better,” he said. “You can do the Florence Nightingale routine when you get out.” She fled into the bathroom, and he ripped open the gauze and the surgical tape. Most of his cuts were from his falls in the fight with T-Rex, the glass on the deck, the bouncing over granite on the fall to the lake beach. A couple bullets had scored him, too. He was damn lucky. Oozing all over, but still lucky.
She exited the bathroom in a cloud of perfumed steam, eyes downcast, face red, having managed to tuck the skimpy little towel around her luscious curves. Her hair was wrung out, hanging down in damp, tangled locks. He was going to comb that for her again, whether she knew it or not. Combing her hair soothed his soul.
“Ladies first,” he said. “Come over here, and let me fix you up.”
“Oh, no. I hardly have any—”
“Shut up and get your ass over here.”
She jumped, stung by his drill sergeant voice. “I don’t have bad ones. Not like you.”
He ignored her, and started with her hands, smearing antibiotic ointment on the nicks and cuts. Then the marks on her wrists from the plastic strapping. The cut beneath her ear, the angry teeth marks. She had marks on her arms that were going to bruise. He should have asked for some ice. He contented himself with smoothing them with his hands. Her worst injuries were the ones in her head. Nightmares, anxiety. The shame, the fear. Injuries to the soul where the hardest ones to heal. He knew all about that. He wished she didn’t have to.
But Liv was tougher than he’d ever imagined. A freaking goddess.
“Any spots I missed?” he asked.
She shook her head, red-faced.
“I’d better do a more careful check.” He tugged the towel loose. She tried to hold it over herself, but he wrenched it away, ran his hands over her cool, trembling skin. Got lost staring at her naked body before he remembered the script. “Uh…let me check your ribs,” he said.
She closed her eyes tight as he touched her breasts. They had red marks from that filthy bastard’s squeezing fingers.
T-Rex was going to die for that. Squealing in pain.
He spun her around, raising up the heavy ropes of dripping hair, running his hands down the curve of her back, her waist. Drops of water dripped sensually down into the cleft of her ass. There were small blue marks on her thighs. He realized that he’d inflicted those himself.
He flushed with lust and shame, and sank to his knees behind her. He stroked them. “I gave you those, didn’t I?”
She nodded, mutely.
