Page 52 of Blame it on the Kiss
“Yes.” She took off her coat and flung it out the bathroom door. The boots followed, leaving her in yoga pants and a pale pink sweatshirt that slid off her shoulder and drove him crazy with lust.
“But you’re afraid of needles.”
She knelt in front of him and turned to pull a handled tray of medical supplies out of the sink cabinet. Holy shit. She was serious.
“I know. And to be honest, I’ve only done this on a banana.”
He didn’t know whether to be worried or intrigued by that. The fact that she’d even held a needle deserved some kudos. “Elaborate?”
“Coop’s got this whole suture kit here because he’s constantly banging himself up and rather than go to the doctor every time he needs a stitch or two, our aunt, who’s a plastic surgeon, taught him how to stitch up a wound. It’s crazy that he can fix himself up and be so in control of the needle. I think that’s the only reason I could handle watching him do it.” She tore open several sterilized pouches and lined them up on a clean towel. “One day he insisted on teaching me in case he hurt himself somewhere where he needed assistance. We used a banana to practice on.”
“How’d that go?”
“I was freaked out at first, but then it went okay.” Her hands shook, ever so slightly, telling him she was not okay right now.
With his good hand, he tucked a knuckle under her chin and lifted her face. Eyes glassy with emotion met his. She was scared, but determined. “I’ll be fine with just a bandage, Honor.”
He needed to get out of that bathroom and back into bed with her so the only thing he felt was her warm, soft skin. One night of mindless pleasure. One night to help her keep her promise and they could both move on.
“What if you’re not? What if it gets infected and the infection moves into your bloodstream or something. I’ve seen enough of Coop’s cuts to know that yours isn’t superficial. I’ve seen…” She pressed her lips together and shut her eyes.
She’d seen her brother almost lose his life. “Sweetheart—”
“Please let me do this,” she practically begged and Bryce realized this was about more than simply stitching him up or facing her fear of needles. She needed this success, this win.
“I have the utmost confidence in you.” He removed the gauze and gave her his finger. The bleeding had finally stopped.
Her soft, grateful gaze collided with his and he hoped she saw he meant what he said 100 percent. He trusted her to take care of him.
“This is a topical anesthetic cream.” She used a Q-tip to wipe the ointment over and around the cut. “It doesn’t work quite as well as an injection so you’ll definitely feel me working, but it shouldn’t be too painful.”
Bryce leaned back and watched Honor work. She used enough anesthetic to numb his finger for a week, but he kept quiet, knowing how worried she was about causing him any discomfort. She continued to describe her actions and he got the feeling talking helped calm her nerves.
When the time came to actually insert the needle, her chest rose and fell and even though her hand shook, he knew once she got past the first poke, her determination would carry her the rest of the way with ease.
She continued to impress him. Engage him. Everything about her made him want more. But he had to ignore it. He’d fight the feelings she stirred no matter how hard that seemed at the moment because he had no plans to risk his heart again. He might like Honor more than he should, but he had nothing to give beyond making her feel good for the next few hours. They’d agreed to explore the attraction between them, but it ended when the sun came up.
“Bryce?” Something waved in front of his face. “Hello?” Honor said, her hand moving back and forth.
He blinked back to the present. “Sorry. Yeah?”
She pushed him in the arm. “Oh my god. Do not scare me like that! I thought you went into shock or something. You’re all done.” She sat back on her haunches with a big, beautiful smile on her face and just like that his pulse careened out of control.
“Thank you.” He didn’t look at his finger. He only looked at her. Why couldn’t he look away?
“You’re welcome.”
“Now it’s time I show you my thanks.” He scooped her up into his arms, ignoring protests that she needed to clean up first, and carried her back to bed. “Congratulations, Nurse Mitchell. You’ve successfully passed Suturing 101 and you know that means?”
Her giggles lit a flame inside him. “I have no idea.” She scooted back on the bed at the same time she pulled her sweatshirt over her head. He loved how eager she was to get naked again. “You’d better fill me in.” Joy and anticipation were etched around the curve of her mouth and crinkles at the corners of her bottomless Honor blue eyes.
“I’m going to fill you all right.” He stood at the edge of the bed and stripped. She pulled off the rest of her clothes. “Turn over,” he instructed.
She stretched out onto her stomach, wiggled that fine ass of hers, and gazed up at him over her shoulder. Beautiful didn’t begin to describe every slope and curve of her delectable body. His blood heated, every muscle tightened.
He started at her heel and worked his way up the back of her calf to her knee with openmouthed kisses. “You’re so soft,” he whispered. Goose bumps spread over her flesh. “And you smell amazing.” He spread her legs and licked up her inner thigh, breathing her in.
“Mmm…” she said, lifting her hips off the bed.
