Page 105 of Reacher
“Fuck!” His curse was followed by him practically swaddling me in the fucking bedding, and then he was lifting me, and carrying me to the door. I had to help him open it, and then we were crossing the hallway, with him yelling out for help.
In the infirmary, the doc took one look at me and cursed.
“I don’t want to know how the fuck you guys tore these stitches. Never tell me.” He started cleaning up the area, and then he had to numb it so he could restitch it. It wasn’t the best post-orgasm ritual of my life, but I hoped it’d be the one and only time sex with Reacher would put me in a hospital.
“I’m so sorry, woman. I’m a fucking idiot.” He was taking it way harder than I had, and blaming himself, but it takes two to tango, right?
“Reacher, will you wind your neck in? I wanted you to…” I glanced at the doc, who grimaced.
“You know… I didn’t know it’d tear my stitches.” That was a good save on my part, I was certain of it, although Doc still looked a little pained.
Reacher was stroking my hand.
“I should have been able to hold off until you were fully healed. I just keep fucking up, when it comes to your safety.”
Doc cleared his throat. “If I may… because I really don’t want to know any more about your bedroom habits…ever… torn stitches can happen at any time, and in a multitude of ways. You could stretch for something, or lose your balance, and simply move wrong. It’s in a place that you can’t help but use for pretty much every activity. My advice would be bed rest, for at least the next few days, until the area is less volatile, and then you can get back to activities that I never want to even consider.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
After he moved to the other end of the infirmary, I pulled at Reacher’s hand until he looked at me.
“Not. Your. Fault. Hear me, old man?”
He practically glowered at me, but wasn’t that the look I enjoyed putting on his face?
“Not risking it again. No fucking sex or orgasms until your stitches are back out.”
I used my free hand to flip him off, and he laughed.
“Thank god you’re okay. When I saw that blood, I was so fucking scared.” His face had sobered so quickly that I immediately wanted to put the smile back on it.
“Reacher… look at me… if you kill me with an orgasm, you’ll have made sure I died happy.”
“Don’t even fucking joke about it, woman. You’re not going anywhere, and if I have to stop getting you off, to keep you…Jesus…”
“I’ll kill you if you do that, old man.”
“Probably be the death of me anyway,” his words were muttered, but I was relieved to hear them. He was starting to ease up on himself, and he should. He didn’t deliberately make me tear my stitches. He didn’t deliberately do anything, except try to give me what I needed.
“You should go, Reacher. Find Stitch. Help him. I’m just gonna rest here for a while. I’m so tired, and you have other people to worry about in this place.”
His glare was his only response.
“No, really. I’m serious. I’m fine, and Doc is taking care of me. You need to be Club President, despite my being here.”
He let out a heavy sigh.
“Don’t you dare fucking move from this bed. Doc, if she moves, you have my permission to tie her to the damn bed.”
Doc looked mildly concerned by his words.
“Uh… pretty sure that goes against everything a doctor is supposed to do, Pres.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can. Love you, woman. Don’t die on me.” He leaned down to kiss my forehead, his lips lingering for a few seconds.
Reacher
Leavingherwastoughas hell, however, it was like she’d had some kind of fucking psychic vision, because even though Stitch was meant to be at the hospital with Ice, I saw him walk in the door as I reached the ground floor. He was so caughtup in whatever his thoughts were, that he didn’t notice me until I was almost right in front of him.
