Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Brooks opens the cabin door and waits for me to enter first. As soon as I step inside, my anxiety spirals.
“I mean it,” I say, as he closes the door behind him. “I have no idea what I’m doing. You should probably rethink this. I can drive you to town, and we can find someone who has done this before.”
He reaches up with his clean hand and hovers his fingertip over my lips without touching them. “You gotta believe in yourself a little bit.” He pulls his hand away. “We need a needle, thread, and some peroxide.” He glances down again and inspects his wound. “Maybe some tape.”
“Tape?” I yelp.
My horror amuses him. “Grab the needle and thread. That’s all you need to focus on right now. I’ll handle the rest.”
“What the heck is happening here?” I whisper, my head spinning like a top. I gather my needle and the two colors of thread I brought—one pink and one green. “Where do you want to do this illegal surgical procedure?”
“Bathroom. Come back here, please.”
My feet move one in front of the other as my brain tries to stop them.
I meet Brooks in the guest bathroom. He’s removed his shirt—which doesn’t help at all—and has his right hand under the tap. He pumps some soap into his palm, but then looks at me over his shoulder. There’s no way for him to lather it.
I force a swallow down my tight throat, place the needle and thread, along with a pair of scissors from my sewing kit, on the edge of the tub. Then I step to the sink.
My heart slams against my ribs, forcing blood to cascade over my eardrums, as I look into his eyes. It’s that or let my gaze drop to his body again, and I don’t think I’m strong enough to risk that. He’s so muscled, so strong—his ridges molded to perfection by the Creator himself—that my desperation to be touched by a man might boil over right here in the bathroom with a needle in my hand.
“Need help?” I ask, pushing thoughts of everything but the task in front of me out of my mind.
“If you would.”
My hands are shaky as I wet them and then take his hand into mine. As soon as we touch, my knees threaten to fall out from under me in a spectacular scene worthy of a movie. My lashes flutter closed for the briefest moment as his thick fingers slip through mine.
The sound of the running water hopefully masks my heavy breathing. His hands are almost twice the size of mine, and his skin is rough and calloused. Instantly, I wonder what they would feel like touching me between my legs or caressing my breasts.
I shiver despite the warm water and refuse to look at him because I already feel his gaze on me. And thanks to previous encounters, I suspect he can read me like a book.
“There,” I say, turning off the tap. I grab a towel from the linen closet, dry my hands, and hand it to him. “We’re clean.”
He takes a lighter from his pocket and then dries his hands. “You ready to do this?”
“No.”
He laughs. “I’ll walk you through it. It’s not as hard as you think.”
“You’ve done this before?” I ask with wide eyes.
“A time or two.” He nods toward the peroxide and lays his arm over the sink again. “First, we’re going to try to clean it out with that. Just pour it over my arm.”
“Won’t it hurt?”
“Probably won’t feel great, but what choice do I have?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure emergency rooms have options.”
He rolls his eyes. “Pour it, Doc.”
I can’t believe I’m doing this. I open the cap and then clench my teeth. “Ready?”
“Yup.”
I cringe, turning my head toward him, keeping my eyes open to make sure I’m hitting the wound. As soon as the liquid touches the cut, bubbles fizz the length of the slice, and I gag. Brooks watches the reaction on his skin, with little response at all.
“Does that hurt?” I ask, breathing in the scent of his cologne mixed with his sweat. It shouldn’t smell this good—especially considering the circumstances.
“I can think of things that feel better.”
My gaze snaps to his as that same fizzy reaction happens inside my body. His dark eyes are hooded as he searches mine. He’s too close and far too exposed to ignore the way he’s looking at me. My lips part as I drag in a breath.
“A bit more,” he says softly, still holding my gaze.
“What?” The peroxide! “Oh. Right.” My cheeks flush as I pour more of the fluid onto him.
“Okay, grab me a white towel and a wash rag.”
I step away quickly, setting the bottle on the side of the tub beside my thread, and grab the items he requested. He plucks the rag out of my hand and wets the corner with peroxide. With a tenderness that I didn’t know he had, he cleans around the cut and wipes the blood off his arm.