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Interesting. Savannah wasn’t one to show her hand or reveal personal details. The little slipup gave him a small glance around her shield. He didn’t ask questions. The alarmed look on her face was like a sign flashing the wordsDon’t push. Besides, he shouldn’t give a damn.
Correction. Hedidn’tgive a damn.
He laid a hand on the outside of her thigh and peeled up the shirt covering her. The bandage had held, but a dark-red spot indicated the wound still bled.
Judging by the cut of her panties, he guessed she was wearing a thong. His dick twitched. Every male instinct wanted to roll her on her stomach and lower his mouth to the luscious curve of her ass cheek. His fingers sunk into her skin a little too firmly, but damn, it was the only way to keep himself in check.
Lifting the edge of the bandage, he watched Savannah’s face. The only sign she was in pain was a slight intake of breath through her nose.
“Sorry,” he mouthed.
“It’s okay.”
He examined the cut. Blood had oozed, dark and sticky, but not as angrily as he’d expected. “You’ll still need a few stitches, but—”
“Can’t you just use butterfly bandages?”
He grunted. “Not my favorite solution. My concern is that it’ll reopen and then we’ll have a mess with a half-healed wound.”
“It’s not like I’m going to run a marathon.”
“Did you expect to go off a mountain, hike through the woods, and get stabbed today?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Whatever. Just don’t take your time with it.”
He snorted. “I think you’ll want me to take my time.” Hell, she was right, but not for the reason she was thinking. The less time he looked at her half-naked body, the better.
“This will sting,” he cautioned. He popped the cap off the disinfectant and squirted the liquid on the gash.
“Ahhh. Ohmigod.” Savannah huffed in and out through her nose as he patted dry the area with a cloth.
“Hang in there.” He held up a tube of numbing cream so she could see it then unscrewed the cap. “It ain’t magic but should take away some of the bite.”
She nodded brusquely as if to hurry him along.
He squeezed some cream on his finger and covered the skin around the wound. “It’ll need a few minutes to take effect.” Busying his hands, he took out the items he’d need to suture the wound. Then he grabbed his glass and tossed back the shot of alcohol. The amber liquor slid over his tongue and burned the back of his throat before it warmed his belly. He wasn’t much of a drinker, but his head was throbbing like a motherfucker and his nerves were still blazing.
He picked up a needle and brought the point to the opening of the cut. Savannah didn’t move. He flicked his gaze to her face. Her attention was on the cushion and there was a crease across her smooth forehead. Her chest was still.
“Breathe,” he instructed.
She sucked in an audible breath and he plunged the needle through her skin.
Silence.
Not wasting time, he continued. After the third one, she whimpered.
“Easy. One more.” He threaded through again and quickly finished up.
Savannah let out a shaky breath and he squeezed her thigh. “Good job. I’ve seen men cry like pussies over stitches.”
“Wasn’t so bad.”
“Endured worse, huh?” He eyed her carefully, waiting for a change in expression. There was none. Savannah was stone-cold.
He positioned a bandage over his handiwork then packed up the kit. “You’ll need to keep those dry for forty-eight hours.”
She snorted. “Great. I can’t shower? Pretty sure that guy’s blood is still on me.” Her color faded to a light gray, making him grimace.
