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“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“It’s OK.” Her voice trembled. “I didn’t care. At the time.”
He slid his hand between her legs, the edge ever so slightly touching the tender hidden folds of her pussy. He kissed every mark, one by one. Then he kissed them all again. She swayed in his hands.
“Don’t you want me to, ah, deal with your cuts and scrapes?” she asked, her voice breathless and unsteady.
“Whatever,” he said. He sat back up onto the bed, and jerked her towel away when she started trying to wrap it around her body again.
“No way,” he said. “Do it naked.”
She made that breathless giggling snort that he loved. “That doesn’t sound like a practical idea. I’m not sure how far I’d get.”
“It’ll be therapeutic,” he assured her. “You’ll be amazed.”
“I don’t doubt that,” she murmured. “I always am.”
She started with his back. He scoped her with his peripheral vision, marveling at her flawless skin. Kissably smooth, fine grained as a baby’s. He hardly noticed the sting as she dabbed with cotton balls and gauze and butterfly bandages. “You should go to the emergency room,” she told him. “You need stitches. Some of these are deep.”
“Nah,” he said. “I’m not worried. I heal fast.”
“They’ll scar,” she warned.
He snorted. “So they’ll be in good company.”
Her cool, soft hands petted him tenderly. “You’ve got scratches and bruises all over.” She sounded adorably worried. It was cute.
“It’s been an intense couple of days,” he said. “Some are from T-Rex, some are from a fight I had with my brother—”
“Your brother? What on earth?”
“We had a knock-down, drag-out fight last night,” he admitted.
She peered around at him, fascinated. “Really? Why on earth?”
“Long, complicated story. I don’t have enough blood circulation going to my brain to tell it,” he hedged. “Some of them are from you.”
Her hands, wielding the cotton balls, stopped moving. “Me?”
He laughed at her horrified squeak. “Yeah. You,” he said softly. “You were a wild woman. I’m lucky I got out of there in one piece.”
She slid off the bed and tilted his face up. “Let me get this one.”
She worked, slowly and intently, on the scrape on his cheekbone, the split on his lip. Dabbity dab with the ointment, her eyes solemn and focused. Naked Nurse Liv. Her tits were right at eye level. Plump and full, with that ripe peach swell he lusted for, but all the jiggly, pointed softness of homegrown tits. Not the perfect round silicone variety.
Not that he’d ever been fussy about tits. Nosiree, he loved them all. Even the surgically enhanced ones had their place in his heart. Tits existed to be passionately appreciated, in all their wonderful varieties.
But when confronted with divine perfection, he could not but fall to his knees to worship. Or in this case, drag her forward so he could wallow in those soft hot curves, nuzzling like a man gone wild. He rubbed her nipples against his face, and drew one into his mouth.
She arched in his arms. “Sean! I’m not done with you yet!”
“No?” He leaned away from her and wiped his mouth. “Sorry.”
She sank down to her knees in front of him. Fabulous scenarios spun through his head. She started dabbing at a long scrape on his thigh with the ointment. His heart sank. Huh. Whatever.
She wiped her fingers with gauze, and gazed earnestly into his face, like she wanted to say something that he wouldn’t want to hear.
Like that she wanted him to stop bothering her, probably.
