Page 3 of Little Fury

“Put your hands on your knees, and don't move,”Jake tells me, putting a hand on the back of my neck moving it ever so slightly to the right. I quickly realize this may be worse than being shot. Any other time I’ve been shot, I went to our in-house doctor. Marcus and I ensured we always had a doctor and an operating room available for our men and myself. At this moment, I’m missing the in-house operating room to have the bullet removed.

Wow, I think I miss Dr. Caine right now. Nah, I miss his drugs, not him.

Jake is quiet as he works. He’s concentrating, but I think he’s also ignoring me.

In one horrible flash of pain that steals both my breath and vision, I feel the bullet dislodge. Jake makes a noise of satisfaction and drops it, then tweezers onto a plate near me. He places his hand against the wound with gauze, I’m assumingto stop the bleeding.“I’m going to stitch this up now,”he saysquietly.

He works in silence as he stitches my shoulder. The freezing is working well to silence the pain from the stitches. I'm lost in my head, and I don't notice when he finishes until the sharp sting of a needle near the entrance wound on my side grabs my attention. I hiss at the feeling.

Jake moves around the island and stands between my legs, removing the rest of my shirt to see the exit wound. He grabs the needle again and starts to inject the area. I hiss in another sharp breath with the sting of the needle. He pauses to look at me, saying a silent sorry. I give him a slight smile. I drop my head a bit, closing my eyes, waiting for the freezing to take effect. He injects it a couple more times, then puts the syringe down. He places his finger under my chin and lifts my head to meet his eyes.

I’m always blown away by how attracted I am to him. He has dark hair that’s more in line with good hockey hair than doctor hair. (Is that even a thing, doctor hair?) He has brown eyes that are so dark. If it weren’t for the specks of hazel in them, you would think they were black. He has high cheekbones and full lips. His nose and the scar from the corner of his left eye diagonally down his cheek to his lip are the only imperfections in his beauty. But those things only add to his allure. They add that little grit to a face that would otherwise be devastatingly perfect. The scar and slightly crooked nose first drew my attention to him six months ago.

He's tall at 6 foot 2, with a body honed by hours in the gym and time spent running. His hands are my favourite thing about him. I love how long his fingers are. I love the veins that run along the back of them. I love his rough palms from hours of lifting weights. Don't even get me started on the forearms. His choice of clothes at the hospital when outside the operating room are shirts and ties. When he getshome and removes his jacket, he loosens his tie and rolls up his sleeves to just below his elbow.

Jake's forearms are pure porn for me.

I have been drawn to this man from the moment I met him. Forearms or not he has a gravitational force over me.

“I'm sorry, Jake,”I sayquietly, hoping he does and doesn't hear me.“I wish I hadn't had to come here. I never wanted you to see this side of my life.”

I wish for so many things if I’m being honest. I wish I were a different version of myself—a version where my life never went down the path that led me here. I wish my parents hadn't died in that car crash. I wish I hadn’t been sent to Harry to learn my trade. But at the same time, given the chance, I wouldn’t change it. I have a tough time wishing for that because while my life is dark and often bloody, it's led me to him, and truth be told, I’m really fucking good at what I do.

I lift my face and press my lips to his. He hesitates for a fraction of a second before he kisses me back. He grabs the back of my head, tangling his fingers in my hair tightly. His kiss is hard. More punishing than demanding. His tongue invades my mouth as if I have no say in the matter, and I happily sigh into him. It’s one of my favorite things about Jake, about us. He takes control of me; he doesn't ask for it nicely; he doesn't ask for it at all. He takes it, and I yield it to him.

We somehow knew when we met that our desires and needs perfectly answered the others.

His hand slides down my arm and grabs my waist pulling me closer. But he grabs too close to my side, and no amount of freezing can stop that jolt of pain. A whimper escapes my lips sobering Jake instantly, and he glares at me, like somehow, I’m to blame for him forgetting himself and grabbing me. I hide my smirk at his glare and focus on him as hestitches the exit wound. Done with the stitches, he places his hands down on the counter, caging me in. Bending towards me, he places his head in the middle of my chest. I bring my hands up to run them through his hair, resting my chin on the back of his head.

We stay that way for a few minutes. Both of us are silent, enjoying the feel of the other being so close, a last moment of quiet before the storm. The questions Jake deserves answers to are the same ones I can’t answer. I know they’re coming.“Ava,”he starts as he lifts his head to look at me. I tense. But Jake does something I don't expect. He kisses me softly and then turns away. He heads to the fridge, grabs a sports drink and hands it to me.“Drink that,”he grumbles. I raise an eyebrow at him, twist the lid off and take a big gulp of the blue liquid, realizing how thirsty I am.

“Jake,”I start to say, but he cuts me off.

“You need to rest. Sleep willhelp you heal and recover some of the blood you lost, and it needs to be now because we both know you aren't staying. Once you feel like it's safe, you’ll be leaving me. I need you to get some sleep before that, so I don't have a panic attack thinking of you driving after what your body has just been through. The doctor in me won't allow a patient, no matter how reckless, to just take off after being shot twice." He closes his eyes for a breath and swallows. “So, let’s get you down and into the shower and then bed for a couple hours.”

I open my mouth to say I need to leave, but Jake stops me before I can utter a sound.

“Please, Ava. I know I’ll never see you again after you leave here, so I need you to do this for me. Please shower and rest for a couple of hours, then go. Please, do this for me.”

I don’t believe I’ve ever heard him say please to me. I know I’ve never heard that plea in his voice before. I give him a slight nod and take his hand to help me off the counter.

He leads me to his bedroom ensuite and helps me undress. He takes me to the walk-in shower and steps in with me. I look at him, realizing he's only in a pair of athletic shorts slung low on his hips. He must have been in bed when he got my call. Stepping away from me he starts the shower. Steam vents, multiple shower heads, room for, I’m sure, six people. I really will miss this fucking shower.Turning on the rain shower head, he looks at me, nods, and turns to leave, but I grab his hand to stop him.

“I don't know if I can wash my hair by myself. Can you help me?”I’m not ready to be away from him yet. He’s not wrong. The minute I leave here, I’ll never see him again, and I want to keep him near me for as long as possible.

Jake slides his shorts down his hips, dropping them to the floor and steps out of them. He gets in behind me under the water and wraps his arm gently around my middle, using his other hand to tilt my head back against his shoulder and hold me for a moment.“Can I get the stitches wet?”I ask.

“It’s fine; there’s a waterproof bandage over the other bandages, so they’ll stay clean and dry. I’ll send you a bunch so you can change the bandages every 12 hours.” I nod and close my eyes, enjoying the feeling of him, of feeling myself in his arms one last time.

I tilt my head back as Jake grabs another shower nozzle and wets my hair, adding the shampoo and carefully washing it for me. He rinses it then adds the conditioner to my hair, massaging it through my long tresses. His scalp massage turns me to liquid in his arms.

Removing his arm from my middle, he grabs the body wash, dumping some on a loofah. Placing my hair over my uninjured shoulder he washes my back, and over my ass in slow, small circles. He slowly drops to one knee, as he washes. His other hand slowly mimics the same movements over the same path down my body. I inhale slowly, enjoying his hands gliding gently over my skin.

Satisfied, he grabs the shower head to rinse the suds from my back. His other hand trailing along, running over it like the soap as it glides down me. His touch is firm in its caress, sinking into my skin. I lean into his touch, savouring it.

Moving in front of me, Jake grabs the body wash sans loofah. I raise an eyebrow at him in question.“Skin-on-skin contact is always better in situations like this.”He tells me cheekily. I want to blame my increased breathing and pulse rate on the fact that I’ve sustained a fair amount of blood loss this evening. But I’m pretty sure it causes the opposite of that kind of reaction.

Jake knows my body. Never wasting a single caress when he touches me. All of his movements over my skin are deliberate, done to draw the reaction he wants out of me. The scarred side of his lip quirks up when he hears my increased breathing. He rubs his hands together, making a fluffy palm full of bubbles. The scent of my coconut shampoo mixing inthe air with my tropical body wash is delicious. He places his hands on my collar bones, careful not to hurt my shoulder, as he slides his hands in towards my neck. He gently wraps them around my throat, and his thumbs push in slightly as he slides them up my neck towards my chin, tilting it up as he does. With a slow, deliberate stroke back down, he increases his pressure a bit more. I close my eyes and let him take what he wants from me however he wants. I enjoy it, knowing he will never hurt me; he will never push me farther than I’m willing to go, never taking more than he knows I can give him.

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