The only thing I feel in his stare is acceptance, adoration, and maybe a little anticipation, all things I’m experiencing right now.
Oswald’s hand curls around my waist as he leans down. At the same time, he pulls me up just enough to arch my back. My shirt slides up, and his lips find the skin of my stomach. My breath catches, but Memphis leans down and steals the gasp, placing his lips over mine in a kiss that sears me.
My mind blanks for a second, then heat flushes over me from head to toe, but it lingers between my legs. My pants feel way too tight, even though that wasn’t a problem ten minutes ago.
My nipples are hard, brushing the soft fabric of my bra with every exhale, and I want to come more than I ever have in my life. It’s nothing like how it feels when I slip my finger between my legs or even when I use the showerhead on my clit.
“Jesus, you smell good,” Oswald says against my stomach, still kissing and licking.
I can’t respond to Oswald because Memphis is still kissing me, but I do thread my fingers into his hair as he leans over me more, getting closer to my breasts. Oswald shifts on the small futon, and the next thing I know, we crash to the floor. My lip and nose are stinging like crazy, and I’m so confused, all I can do is stare up at Memphis’ shocked expression.
“Holy fuck,” Oswald murmurs. He’s half on the floor, half lying across my leg.
“Ouch,” I say softly as I come to the realization that we broke the couch. It might be funny if my face and ankle didn’t hurt so badly.
“Get up.” Memphis shoves his brother, rolling him the rest of the way off me.
“Ahhhh,” I howl and sit straight up, narrowly avoiding headbutting Memphis’ chin.
“Oh shit, oh shit.” Oswald scoots farther back until he slams up against the desk chair and it tips over.
A red drop falls into my lap, and I look down, noting it’s not the first. I was just in too much pain to notice a few seconds ago. I roll my tongue on the inside of my lip and feel the nasty texture of raw, ground beef while tasting blood. I reach for my nose and pull my hand away, noting it comes away clean, so the blood is only coming from my mouth, despite how much my nose hurts.
Memphis is still just staring down at me, but the shock on his face has morphed into horror.
“I bit my lip, and I think my ankle might be sprained,” I tell him.
That spurs Oswald into action, and he jumps up and runs to the kitchen. The little fridge tips when he jerks the freezer door open, nearly falling over, but he steadies it with his left palm on the top corner. He pulls out some blue plastic trays, and there’s a loud cracking noise followed by something spilling on the counter.
Seconds later, he’s walking over to me with a wadded up dish towel and a damp piece of paper towel. He shoves the wet cloth at Memphis and barks, “Clean up her face,” before dropping heavily to the floor on his knees.
The weight of the ice-filled towel on my ankle has me stifling a moan. “We need to take your shoe off before it starts to swell.” Oswald looks up and curses. “Clean up her fucking face, Memphis.”
“I’ve got it.” I twist to take the paper towel, but he doesn’t release it.
“Christ,” he mutters, reaching for my chin with one hand and gently wiping under my lip with the other. The cloth is stained red after two swipes. “There’s a little cut under her lip.”
I roll my tongue over the spot, realizing I might have bitten right through it. Fabulous. My mother is going to have a fit and insist I need cosmetic surgery to repair it.
Oswald grabs the back of my heel, holding it firmly, before he slips off my shoe. I look down and see an ugly blue splotch forming, along with some swelling. “Is it broken?” I wonder, thinking that’s a fast reaction for a sprain.
“We need to get some X-rays,” Oswald says solemnly. “Do you feel okay to stand?”
“On my leg?”
Oswald is shaking his head. “Only the good one. I’ll help you,” he offers, reaching out his hands.
He mostly pulls me up. The change in position makes the heavy throb in my foot intensify, and I get scared. “Oswald,” I whine. I’m not proud.
“You’re all right, baby. We’ll go get it looked at.”
“I need to pee,” I tell him, and he freezes with his lips parted.
A weird chuckle comes from his chest, but he just leans down and scoops me up bridal style. “I just needed help, not for you to carry me,” I protest, but he’s already in the bathroom. When he lowers me, it’s slow and careful, but the moment my foot is near the ground, it throbs with my heart.
“Do you need help with…” He’s looking at me, but he’s at a loss for words.
“No, I can do that.” I shake my head.
