Page 34 of The Bombshell and the Bodyguard
Say something, dipshit. Distract her.
“You… had enough sun?” I asked.
Jessica shook her head and let out a little giggle. “Yeah… uh… a little too much, I think. I forgot how much stronger it is in this hemisphere.”
She glanced down at her arm as she took another step into the room, And then I saw it.
“Oh, shit, you arered.Did you not wear any sunscreen?”
She gave me a sheepish glance. “No. I thought I had a good enough base. Also… this suit provides a little less coverage than my others.”
A little less… or alot.
“So, I guess it exposes some parts of me that don’t usually see the sun,” she explained. “Now I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to even sit down.”
She turned around to show me her back. Naturally my gaze dropped to her ass—which, while still pretty, was lobster red like the rest of her.
I couldn’t suppress a laugh. “Oh man, you are… you are torched. I’m sorry. It’s not funny. That can’t feel good. I’ll get you some ibuprofen for the pain and swelling. You should go take a cool shower to lower your skin temperature.”
“I can’t imagine standing under a spray of water right now,” she said. “I think even a stiff breeze might hurt. I was sort of hoping to sink into a tub of strawberry Jello.”
My body stiffened.No. Don’t go there. She’s suffering. Jessica needed my help right now, not my apparently uncontrollable lust.
I grimaced, fighting to suppress my overactive imagination and salivary glands. Strawberry was my favorite flavor.
“Afraid we’re fresh out of Jello. I do have some aloe gel you can put on when you get out of the tub. If it looks bad enough, I also have hydrocortisone cream here.”
Jessica nodded glumly and padded barefoot down the hall toward the bedroom. When she hadn’t reemerged after an hour, I started to worry.
What if she’d passed out? In fact, she could have sun poisoning which sometimes led to dizziness, lightheadedness, fever and chills. She could be drowning in there. Why the hell didn’t I check on her sooner?
Hurrying down the hall, I rapped on the bathroom door. “Everything okay in there?”
Jessica answered, “Yes. I just got out. I don’t think I can put any clothes on, though. Itreallyhurts.”
The bathroom door opened. Jessica stood there wrapped in a towel. It was tan in color, making her look something like a freshly roasted hot dog in a bun. I schooled my expression and willed myself not to laugh.
“How’re you feeling there, kiddo?”
She pouted up at me from a contrite face that was red but thankfully not as scalded as the rest of her. In fact, the front half of her body, while burned, wasn’t nearly as bad as the back.
“Like I went surfing on a solar flare,” she said. “I’m a big fat idiot.”
Now I did laugh. “You’re not bigorfat.”
She cracked a smile then winced in pain. “But Iaman idiot. I’m going to be peeling for weeks.”
She looked and sounded so pitiful. Any arousal I might have felt at the idea of her in the bathtub dissipated immediately, replaced by sympathy.
I handed her the bottle of aloe gel. “Maybe not. This will help. Rub it on your front side. Come out when you’re done, and I’ll do your back.”
She nodded and shut the door again. While I waited, I opened the bottle of pain reliever and placed three tablets on the nightstand with a bottle of water.
When she emerged from the bathroom, I pointed out the ibuprofen and water. “Come lie on the bed.” Then I added, “On your stomach.”
“Ha ha,” she said without humor.
But she obeyed, walking to the bed and crawling onto it, her breath hissing as her legs bent in the process.
