“You sure you know what you’re doing?” He settled his hands on either side of her, gripping the counter, caging her in.
His arms were so long, it left about a foot of space between them, but just the act alone, that he felt he could contain her, made something flip in her belly. His warmth engulfed her. She breathed in that cedar. Shivers racked her.
“Yes, I am a doctor,” she laughed back, toying with his shirt as if it had lint on it.
“Ain’t that kind of doctor,” he retorted, eyes dipping to her lips.
“Well, Mister It’s-Only-A-Flesh-Wound refused to go to the hospital, so he’s stuck with me.” She hoisted her rear up onto the counter and let her thighs spread open for his hips, her fingers gently settling at his waist and guiding him toward her another step. “As thrilled as you seem about it.”
She expected a smirk. Or a hard look. Instead, he positively smoldered as he leaned in.
“I can think of worse situations.” Tyler’s baritone rumble settled beside her ear as he leaned around her, his shirt brushing against her cheek as if a dare to see if she’d move or not, making her breath hitch as he sprang free the tension clasp on the metal kit behind her.
That wonderful cedar scent filled her lungs with every breath. My God, it was delicious. Warmth radiated onto her from his wall of a chest. She wanted to rub her cheek upon it, cover herself in his smell.
“Are you suggesting you like my company?” she murmured, unable to wipe the pleased smile off her lips, resisting the urge to drop a kiss to his neck which was right there.
He chuckled and the deep reverberation only inches from her ears tremored over her like a shockwave. “So far it’s been enlightenin’.” A soft kiss dusted her ear, surprising her, as if he sensed she was burning for it again. An ear she remembered all too well that he’d pinched expertly in his teeth when he’d hoped to screw her anonymously at that bar. Heat flooded her belly as his breath shimmered against her lobe.
Then he stood upright, handing her a handful of cotton balls, a bottle of isopropyl, Neosporin, and latex gloves. He dropped to his knees, eye level with her…God, she nearly throbbed right off the counter at the way he took her shin and began cleaning the cut she’d sustained with roughened, warm fingers, his eyes stealing hard glances at the crux of her thighs as if he was tracking prey, and visions of him kissing her there, of gripping his head while he did it, assaulted her, making her breath hitch. His eyes darted up to her. That confident smolder tilted up his lips. He knew exactly what was on her mind. Death by first aid kit.
He stood, wedged between her thighs and making no indication that he was going to step back out of her space. But then again, their chemistry had been off the charts since they’d met. She lifted his shirt hem, her fingertips skimming his skin, so attuned to her as she was attuned to him.
“I think we need to lose the shirt if you want me to patch you up,” she whispered.
He reached behind his neck, bunched his T-shirt, dragged it over his head. Air whooshed out of her at the masculine gesture. Her hands fell away. He stood naked to the waist in front of her, right in nuzzling distance. His chest was smooth, sun-kissed, despite the farmer’s tan around both his rounded shoulders where his arms were even darker. His abs? Siri, define cattle grate.
Coiled around his bicep was a tattoo. Tribal designs? Blurred by age. He’d had that tat for a long time. Interesting. Why did him having a tattoo surprise her?
A thin dusting of dark hair accumulated into a treasure trail that trickled over his navel toward his belt buckle. And that V of ligaments, guiding her eyes straight from his hips to his groin… Damn. No wonder he had kids. A man like him was designed to procreate.
“Like what you see?” he asked, the deep rumbling toying with her nerves like a guitarist on strings.
She nodded and grinned. “I’ve liked it from the moment I saw you play last night.”
She palmed his pectorals and slid over the warm, toned flesh. He sucked in. Held still. His muscles jumping under her touch, the warmth in his eyes darkening. He’d caught her in his snare, as if he wasn’t done with her yet, not by a long shot.