Free BUFF by Mandy Burns Page B

whole time as her body trembles. She removes the blanket with ease, but when she looks at his t-shirt she licks her lips.
    There’s only one way this can be done…
    Forcing herself not to think she lifts and pulls the thin material back over his head. Her limbs, her arms, freezes for one, quick second.
    She swallows the moisture in her mouth as her eyes trail over his lean hips, his narrow waist, his eight-pack and the sexy V-lines of his obliques. Everything from his chest and biceps is cut to perfection and rock-solid. His tattoos circle the exact point his bulging biceps and broad shoulders meet.
    There’s a small circular scar on the side of his upper arm… It’s the bullet he took to save her life five years ago… Her thighs clench and a ribbon of yearning unfurls deep in her core.
    But beyond all the beauty there’s so much blood. It’s an endless ring around the small puncture of flesh. The amount of blood soaked around the wound looks like a grenade has gone through his side.
    She pours the rubbing alcohol onto the clean cloth, placing one hand above the wound and wiping with the other. Some of the blood is old and some of it is fresh just from this morning. Becky does her best to remain detached through the rusty smell of the blood and the deep black hole that begins to show once her strokes work through the mess. His shallow breathing picks up a notch and her hand tingles in awareness for a split moment, only to heighten when he groans.
    God he sounds so sexy, so manly when he makes those deep, low noises... There is something wrong with me…
    “Stay still, okay,” she whispers.
    He doesn’t answer but she knows her words haven’t fallen on deaf ears. His body becomes like a living statue underneath her again. Alive but as posed as a flower on a windless day.
    She leans back, finished with the cleaning part. The bullet wound doesn’t appear so threatening without all the blood covering it. She’s never realized something so small can cause so much damage.
    Looks certainly are deceiving.
    “How are you feeling?” she asks.
    Colt swallows a few times before he hisses out, “Fine,” as the alcohol seeps through the open wound.
    The topical medicine soothes the injury before she places the gauze over, using the medical tape to secure it in place. He isn’t bleeding. She hopes it stays that way. Becky pulls out the antibiotics from her bag.
    “You took my clothes off,” he says. “Always the quiet ones.”
    Is he smirking at me? Is this all a game for him?
    “I'll get you a clean shirt when I get the chance and I didn’t take everything off…"
    He doesn’t say anything for five minutes. Her eyes finally roam near his face. His eyes are shut but he’s definitely awake. His face is way too tense and straining now to pass for slumber.
    “You don't have to lie, you know.” She waits for his reaction, each ticking of the clock seeming to grow louder each second.
    “I'm… fine.”
    ‘Fine’. Always fine.
    Becky shakes her head, lifting the bottle of pills in front of her and reads the label carefully. “I don't believe you."
    He coughs, his hand covers the harsh sound, but she sees the burn it causes in his eyes. When it subsides he dares a quick glance her way, but instantly looks back at the ceiling. “Well, how nice for you."
    She sighs, hovering closer to his top half. “I got some medicine.” She holds it up but her words fall onto nothing. “Colt. Please sit up. You need to take this." The look he gives her catches her off guard. The unfound intensity is blinding. “I... uh… this will help."
    He tries to sit up on one elbow but like a domino he nearly topples back down. She catches him from underneath his arm and supports him the rest of the way. His eyes never leave her.
    The bottle cap pops open and she hands him two white pills. “This is an antibiotic for the fever and if there’s a possible infection... If there is any fever it should—"
    “I know what antibiotics do.”