I looked between her and the towel once more. “Wait. Are you—”
She pinched her eyes shut, embarrassment crippling her face and sinking her shoulders.
No way.“Blood makes you squeamish?”
All she gave was a single nod.
What a plot twist that was; a medical student—Colleen Fox’s perfect daughter—was squeamish around blood.
It was laughable.
Ironic.
It didn’t make sense.
I saw the pain radiating through her, not just because of the blood, but also because she was ashamed of it. Of herself.
Beads of sweat covered her forehead, and I swallowed an unfamiliar lump forming in my throat.
Reaching above her, I took a rag from the cabinet and wet it in the sink, bringing it to her face. She jumped at first and then covered my hand with hers, leaning into the coolness. It didn’t bother me, as I’d expected it to. I welcomed her touch. Hell, I’d begun to crave more of it ever since she’d wrapped her tiny fingers around mine at the show.
Fuck.
“Thank you,” she whispered, and I couldn’t help but laugh. There was a small crease between her brows when her eyes cracked open. “What?”
“You thanking me—it sounds weird.” The skin of her thigh was like silk under the palm of my hand. I couldn’t resist moving my thumb in tiny circles.
I wasn’t ready for her to leave yet. Her color was slowly coming back, but I knew she needed a few more minutes before I could leave her alone.
“Tell me something else I don’t know.”
She looked at me for a moment, caution washing over her features. Trust wasn’t a quality she sought out in me, but something unraveled in her eyes before she took a steady breath. “Well…it’s not just blood that makes my stomach turn. It’s pretty much anything that involves what I’m going to school for. The human body is fascinating, but it’s really gross to look at under a microscope.”
She laughed once, but it didn’t ease the tension in my shoulders.
“Why the hell would you want to waste your time with something that makes you physically ill?”
Avery shrugged. “My mom says I’ll get used to it over time.”
“Aren’t you on your second year of medical school?” I frowned.
“Yeah, I’m not sure I’m convinced either, but I have to keep exposing myself to it and try. She’d be thrilled to hear I stitched someone up for the first time and didn’t pass out.” She chuckled again.
“I don’t know if you’re in the clear yet,” I said, sliding the rag down her cheek.
The corner of her mouth tipped up, and my eyes dropped to the soft pink flesh as I wondered what her lips would feel like. But was that so crazy? To want to know what her lips felt like against mine? To know what the inside of her mouth tasted like—even if she was my best friend’s sister? My mouth watered, just thinking about what she tasted like. Or what those rosy pillows would feel like, running down my neck. Trailing down my abdomen, finding themselves around my—
I cut that thought off the moment the image appeared in my head. But Avery’s focus was exactly where mine just had been, looking at my lips like she was wondering the same thing.
I moved an entire centimeter closer to her and her eyes widened.
“Pineapple,” she stuttered.
My brow inched up my forehead.
“You wanted to know something about me you didn’t already know. I’m allergic to pineapple.”
I nodded slowly and inched away until I was standing in the mirror. “Huh. Not bad, Little Fox,” I said, inspecting the stitches. I saw her shake her head out of the corner of my eye. “You still doing okay?”
