Page 33 of Silent Comrade
“Yes, ma’am.” In a smooth movement thatstole her breath, he took his shirt off and held it in a ball onhis lap. Heat rolled off him. A leather strap cut across hisfreckled chest, ending in a holstered gun that rested under hisleft arm.
She gulped.
Wetting a washcloth, she took a few testswipes around the bullet holes on his side and the deep cut acrosshis upper chest. Tight muscles clenched, but his tense expressiondidn’t change. She would know, since they were at the same eyelevel. He kept his lips pressed together while he stared at her,unblinking. Warmth climbed her neck, but she focused on cleaningthe injury. She had no business considering his mouth was a fewinches from hers. It only made her remember their steamy kiss fromyesterday.
Yesterday. When she had no ideawho—or what—hewas. When he wasn’t injured. When she wasn’t concussed and her lifewasn’t in danger.
No business thinking about kisses. Or themuscles over his torso and arms that tempted her to trace a fingerover each ridge and valley. Purely from a fabric draping potential,she was impressed.
Quit it. Britt put a dab ofantibiotic ointment on a large square bandage and taped it to thefront wound. She repeated the bandage-and-tape routine on theback.
Frowning, she said, “These have healed uppretty quickly for only occurring an hour or so ago.” She trailedher fingers next to the cut that sliced over his hard musclesbeneath his collarbones.
His skin rippled at her touch, and his chestrose quickly. He wrapped his hand around her wrist, holding herhand away from him. “I’m a fast healer.” His hazel gaze didn’t meethers.
Well, he had a lot of secrets, didn’the?
She dabbed with water, dried with a towel,and added ointment and a few bandages over the deepest areas of thecut.
“Okay, let’s talk,” she said.
A quirk to the corner of his mouth made herpulse jump. “Here?”
The bathroom was far too close, too warm. Hestill had his shirt off. Her pulse ramped up, and his focusrocketed to her neck. Like he could hear the pulse pounding, butthat wasn’t possible, right?
She drew in a shaky breath and thumbedtoward the living room. “No. There.”
When she turned to go, he slid his grip downher arm, hanging onto her hand. That strong clasp remained gentlearound her fingers. “I need to assess your injuries. Whathurts?”
Pride. Lack of security for a safe future.Irritation at being told she couldn’t have the life she wantedright now. The possibility of failure.
“Neck’s a little sore, but some ibuprofenand it’ll be good.”
He lifted his hand to her shoulder. Easingher chin up, he growled.
“P-pardon?” she said.
“You have blood on the front of youroutfit.”
“It’s yours.” From when he had picked her upin the store and held her in the parking lot.
The rough pads of his fingers tracedpatterns on her skin, drawing goose bumps. As he went over theinjuries, his touch stayed light. Remaining seated, he helped herout of the cardigan and his hands slid up and down each of her armsand lightly over her ribs. A quick pat of her legs finished theperusal. He pulled out a small flashlight and swung the beam overher eyes. “Anywhere else hurting?”
After-images of the light danced in hervision. “Lower back.” She sighed. “My head and neck ache. Nosurprise.”
Turning her by the waist, he then pressedlightly along her spine, hips, and the muscles from the top of herbutt to her shoulders. Then he slid his fingers over the back ofher neck and over her scalp. Once finished, he patted her shoulderand nudged her back around to face him, finishing the exam withlight pressure over the sore front of her neck and collarbones.
“Bruises. Scrapes. I’m sorry they put theirhands on you.” Gravity and threat infused every word.
“Pretty sure that was their job.”
He rested his hands on her hips. “Mine wasto keep it from happening.” With a blink, that narrowed, deadlystare flipped back to, well, less deadly. “I lost focus. Won’thappen again.” He clamped his mouth shut until a muscle popped onhis tight jaw. “You probably have a concussion. You sure you don’twant a proper medical exam and testing? Please.”
“My insurance sucks. Besides, my vision isfine and the hearing is clearer now. I assume being in the militaryyou know what to watch for with concussions.”
“It’s not the same as a CT scan.”
“Cheaper.”
