Page 96 of Let It Breathe
“It’s fine, I’m just being a wimp.”
“You’ve had a tetanus shot lately?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
“Come on, let me see it.”
Reese withdrew her finger and held it up. Blood welled from the tiny puncture like a little red bead.
“That looks bad,” Clay said. “Do you think you need stitches?”
Reese shook her head and turned to the small sink along one wall. She turned on the tap and ran her hands under the water, wincing as it stung the fresh cut. She grabbed a bar of soap and scrubbed for a moment before turning off the tap and shaking the water from her hands. She studied the wound again.
“I think I just need a Band-Aid. Eric’s probably got a first-aid kit in the office.”
She moved around him to the musty little room. Flicking on a light switch, she began rummaging through desk drawers. “God, he’s got a lot of crap in here,” she muttered.
“Let me,” Clay said. When Reese didn’t move right away, he circled his hands around her waist and hoisted her onto the counter, maneuvering her out of the way.
Reese squeaked, not minding one bit. It was kind of sexy having him take charge.
“Let me dig for it,” he muttered. “You’re getting blood all over.”
“It’s not even bleeding anymore,” she argued as she kicked her heels against the front of the cabinet and watched the back of his head. He stood hunched over the drawer, pawing through paperclips and old corks and a pair of plastic lips. Finally, he produced a small red pouch with a white cross on the front. Unzipping it, he dumped the contents on the counter.
Reese reached for a Band-Aid. “I can get it, Clay.”
He caught her wrist and locked his fingers around it. “No. You take care of every other living creature on the planet. It’s my turn to take care of you.”
She saluted with her uninjured hand. “Yes, sir.”
Clay stepped into the space in front of her, nudging her knees apart as he tore open a packet of something. Reese grinned and opened her legs, giving him easier access. She could feel the heat of him through the worn denim of her jeans, and her body screamed at her to get closer.
Clay raised her hand to eye level, frowning as he studied the tiny wound. Then he began to dab her finger with an alcohol wipe.
“Ow,” she said, though it didn’t really hurt.
“Want me to kiss it better?”
“Kind of.”
He grinned and lowered his lips to her palm, skipping her finger altogether as he moved his mouth over the fleshy pads at the base of her fingers. He nipped at the delicate ribbon of flesh between her thumb and forefinger, and Reese wrapped her legs around him, locking her ankles at the back of his thighs to draw him closer.
Clay released the injured hand and moved on to the other one, drawing her index finger into his mouth. Reese gasped, savoring the warm wetness of his tongue against the pad of her fingertip. He was miles away from her injured hand, but that thing he kept doing with his tongue felt exquisite.
Withdrawing her finger from his mouth, Clay kissed his way down the side of it, his tongue lingering in the sensitive hollow between her middle and ring finger. Reese moaned as he licked gently there for an instant before slipping up to dab kisses along her knuckles.
He slid her finger into his mouth again and Reese whimpered. “I never get this treatment at the doctor’s office.”
“That’s probably a good thing.”
“Want to take my temperature?”
“That’s the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard.”
“Stick around, I’ve got more.”
Clay grinned and drew back, reaching for a Band-Aid. “Come on, now. This is serious medical business. Hold still.”
