“Please.” She rolled her eyes. “Do I look like Willy Wonka? I don’t sugarcoat anything.”
“Wiseass,” he accused.
“Would you have me any other way?”
“Not on your life.” He stole her line and something succulent melted in her eyes. Apparently, she was done giving him hell and was thinking about giving him something else entirely.
What was that low, growling sound?
Oh, right. It’s me.
“Nope!” He realized he’d bent to claim her lips when she shoved a finger over his mouth. “Wound care first,” she told him with a decisive jerk of her chin. “Naked shenanigans to follow.”
“I’m offended you think I can’t accomplish both things at once,” he said around her finger, feeling her skin warm with his hot breath.
Her eyes lowered to his mouth and glittered with desire. He would swear he felt his lips throb in response.
“As much as I would love your kisses…” Her voice was husky. “And I mean,loveyour kisses. Let’s get this bandaging business over with as quickly as we can.”
“Your wish is my command.”
“Prince Charming.” She beamed up at him.
“Oh, hell no.” He shook his head. “I’m no Prince Charming. I’m the big, bad wolf. And that should make you glad.”
“Why’s that?”
“A wolf can see better, hear better, and…eatyou better than a prince ever could.”
He watched her nipples furl beneath the cotton of her shirt, and his mouth instantly watered as if he were one of Pavlov’s dogs.
Soon, he thought.Soon I’ll taste those sweet little buds. But first…
Gently sliding the strap of her tank top over her shoulder, he inspected the bandaging. It was soaked and some of the tape holding it in place had peeled away.
Running a finger along the edge of one sticky strip, he noted how warm and smooth her skin was in comparison and—
“This is going to hurt, isn’t it?” Her voice was tremulous.
“Not if I can help it,” he promised. “Now hold still.”
She held her breath as he gently peeled away the first edge of the dressing. By the time he’d gotten the final side of tape up, she’d relaxed somewhat. But she tensed again when he lifted the gauze pad covering her wound.
“How’s it look?” She stared up at him in trepidation.
“See for yourself.” He helped her to her feet and then stood behind her as she tentatively turned toward the mirror.
A whoosh of air exited her lungs at the same time her eyebrows pinched together. “That’sit?”
She leaned in close to her reflection to inspect the neat line of stitches that marred the perfection of her shoulder.
Truly, the only thing that looked the least bit gnarly about the wound was the bruised flesh around it. Her skin was a Technicolor canvas of reds, blues, and purples that he’d dearly love to kiss better.
“Your doctor was good. It’ll probably only leave a faint scar.” He bent to press his lips to the back of her neck. He couldn’t help himself. “Plus, she thinks it was a ricochet and not a direct hit, which means there was a lot less deep tissue damage than there might’ve been.”
Chrissy shivered. “You’re trying to distract me from my bullet wound and you’re not being subtle about it.”
“Maybe I’m tryin’ to distract myself.” He moved his mouth to her ear. He’d noticed she seemed to like that. When he nibbled the sweet little lobe, he watched in the mirror as her lids lowered to half-mast. “I hate seein’ you hurt, Chrissy. It makes me want to chew nails.”
