Page 4 of Can't Get No Satyrfaction

“Are you sure they’re all right?” she asked doubtfully.

Why did she insist on questioning everything he said? And why did he find it more endearing than annoying?

“Of course I’m sure,” he said.

“But you’re not a doctor, are you?”

“I frequently take care of wounded animals.”

“Well that’s nice, but I’m not an animal,” she huffed, and he almost smiled once again.

“The anatomy is not that different.”

Except that none of the animals he treated had such soft, delicate skin or such deliciously curved legs.

Fuck. He gave himself another mental slap and concentrated on the injury.

“It would be best to wrap them. I don’t suppose you have a first aid kit?”

“Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“I have band-aids, mosquito repellent, and suntan lotion. And matches,” she added hopefully.

“None of which are remotely useful in this situation. How could you be so ill-prepared to venture into the woods?”

“You’re not carrying a first aid kit either,” she pointed out.

“I’m also not the one who was foolish enough to be caught by the vines.”

He could tell she was about to continue the argument, but then her face relaxed and she laughed.

“Fair enough. But I think they’ll be fine. I can just lace my boots tightly enough to support them.”

“I’ll do it,” he said reluctantly. “And before you ask, yes, I do know how,” he added when her mouth opened.

“I wasn’t going to say that. I was just going to say thank you.”

She smiled at him again, a warm smile that created an unexpected corresponding warmth in his chest before he hastily shoved it aside. He pulled up her socks, folding them down toform a double layer at the top of her boots, then firmly tied the boots back into place. She paled again but didn’t complain, and smiled at him once he was finished.

“Can you stand?” he asked as he rose.

He offered her his hand, and she took it readily enough. The grip of those small fingers in his was surprisingly satisfying. Annoyed at the thought, he hauled her to her feet a little too quickly. He misjudged the strength of his grip and she ended up stumbling awkwardly against his chest. He didn’t quite manage to repress a shiver of awareness at the feel of that tempting little body. She was so small and defenseless, and the soft curves pressed against him made him want to tighten his arms around her.

She felt so right there, as if she belonged in his arms.Don’t be ridiculous, he told himself, and hastily stepped back. His hands lingered on her waist a moment longer—just to make sure that she was steady on her feet, not because he enjoyed the feel of that gentle curve beneath his hands. She swayed a little and put her hand on his arm to balance herself. Even that small touch burned his skin, and he fought to stay still.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “My legs gave out.”

“I could have told you that would happen,” he said, but he covered her hand with his own much larger one. “Can you walk?”

Still holding his arm for balance, she took an experimental step, then another, then nodded optimistically as she released him.

“Yep. Thank you, Guardian.”

“Thorn,” he corrected automatically.

“I’m Sylvie.”

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