Page 7 of Healing with the Mountain Man
Cracking open the kit, I pull out alcohol swabs and warn her of the burn before I swab it across. Even with the warning, she hisses, and I feel the same pain through my body. Not wanting to drag it out, I’m checking to see if the cut is deeper than I assume. Thankfully, it’s not too bad.
Alani sucks in a breath as my thumb strokes along the length of the cut like I can soothe the pain with touch alone.
She leans in instead, her breath warm on my cheeks as I struggle to pull away and grab a bandage. “You’re good at this, you know? I’ve been a pain since you found me, and you’re going above and beyond.”
I can tell her that I’ve done plenty of tending wounds in my past, but I don’t. Not while it feels like I’ve got fingers digging in my throat with a grip that’s tight.
Grunting, I’m far quicker with placing a bandage on her palm. Once I’ve smoothed it down, she lets out the little sigh that plucks at a taut string in my chest.
“Thank you, Dean.” She cradles her hand, looking at the bandage like it’s worth more than a few cents. “We should clean up the plate before I cut something else.”
She’s right. I shouldn’t hope for another excuse to cradle another body part. There are a lot of things I shouldn’t do.
“Stay here. Don’t want you stepping on a shard.” Choking on the words, I pull myself away so I can hunt down a broom. All while her eyes follow my movement, I clean up the destroyed plate. It’s easy and quick, and once I’m done, she doesn’t jump off.
My fingers twitch at my sides, and something twists around in my chest.
“You need help getting down?” A question I shouldn’t ask.
Alani nods, as if we both know she wouldn’t have any issue hopping down.
I move back toward her, my body acting on its own. For once, I don’t allow myself to think. My fingers glide along the length of her thighs until both hands settle on her hips. At the same time, her hands find my shoulders like she expects me to not just pick her up, but to carry her around wherever she pleases.
My cock stirs as her fingers tickle the hairs on the back of my neck.
I’d carry her to the ends of this earth if that’s what she wanted.
Light as a feather, I pluck her off the counter. Taking two steps back, she slowly slides to the floor before she’s forced to release me. Her hands leave a hot trail down my throat and thefront of my chest as she purposely takes her sweet time releasing me from her hold.
“Thank you again.” Her whisper is soft, but her eyes are daring. That little smile—knowing, like she’s aware of precisely what she’s doing to me.
I want to kiss her. I won’t. Ican’t.
A noncommittal grunt leaves my lips as I take a step back. I busy myself with the bandage wrapper, crushing it in my fist like I can choke out the need clawing up my throat.
She steps away, leaving the room feeling cooler as she creates some distance.
I don’t ask her where she’s going, or ask her to stay.
That’s what’s best. For her. For my sanity.
4
Alani
From the moment Dean began answering my emails—each reply a little quicker than the last—I should have known. His words were careful, deliberate, but beneath them thrummed something restless.
He pried details from me like a man starved, asking after my health, my happiness, as if the mere idea of me aching was a personal offense.
At first, I thought it was just another way for us to dissect the world together, to pick apart our thoughts over miles of text and ink. But now, standing close enough to feel the heat of him, I understand the truth. Dean doesn’t just worry or fret.
He cares for me more than someone in his shoes should.
He hovers like a man fighting every instinct not to reach out. His fingers graze the small of my back as he passes, happening like it’s instinct.
Does he even realize he’s doing it? Does he know the way my breath snags each time?
I don’t want him to stop. Rather, I want him to do a little more. Be it in the privacy of his cabin or in public.
