Stay calm. Don’t panic. Remember your lessons back in school. How do you cure a thorny nettle sting?
Dockleaf. The broad, dimpled leaves also grow near riverbanks.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Sure enough, there’s a whole mess of them between the nettles. Carefully, I pick my way through, grabbing a handful, then another. There’s no telling how many I’ll need or if I’ve been stung as well.
When I return, I find Maddox flinging his arms around like he’s trying to climb out of his own skin.
“I’m back. It’ll be over soon.” I spit on the leaf and rub it into itself until the surface breaks and a green sap appears at the creases. “Hold out your hands.”
He thrusts both hands toward me, and I rub the gooey leaf along his skin, praying it works. I’ve only ever read about small stings, never anything this widespread. “Is it helping at all?”
“A little.”
That’s something, at least.
I prepare the next leaf and drag the goo down his cheeks and across his eyes. Still, his grimace remains, which is strange because the sap should have soothed the worst of it by now.
“Were you stung anywhere else?”
He doesn’t move or speak. What is his problem? Clearly, the man is in excruciating pain. Doesn’t he want the burning to end? “Where else, Maddox?”
He gestures to his groin with a gooey hand.
Oh . . . Oh no. “Is it your . . . ?”
A nod.
How the hell did he getthatcovered in nettle stings?
He tries to blindly swipe for the leaf. “I can?—”
“No, you can’t. There might still be spines on your hands.” If that’s the case, he’ll only make it worse. I have to do this.
It’s fine.
There doesn’t have to be anything strange about the situation. I spit on the next leaf and massage the two sides together, working up a thick green paste.
“I’m going to remove your pants.”
The muscles in his flat stomach flex as I reach for the waistband. I can be clinical. I can be blasé. With the leaf in one hand, I use the other to tug his pants down his hips. They fall to the ground and?—
Holy heavens . . .
Maddox Finch is huge.
“Nia . . .” His voice breaks, his hands coming down to cover himself, but I smack them away.
“The spines, remember?”
This is fine. Not a big deal. I’ve seen plenty of men disrobed. This is no different, except it’s green and exceptionally large.
I flatten the leaf in my palm and then wrap my hand around his manhood and try not to die of mortification when he thickens in my grip. How is it possible that it can get any bigger?
His stomach hollows as he tries to pull his hips back. A half-groan, half-whimper tumbles from his lips as I spread the paste all over his green skin. “There. All finished.”
He grunts and turns away, shrinking down on the stones as if he can make himself invisible.
