Loving Him Off the Field(27)
Her mouth twisted as she watched him soak a cotton ball over the sink. “What, you think I got some contagious tree disease?”
“Just shut up and turn around.” Miraculously, she did, but not without a muttered curse. With her back to him, he could grin at her cute disgruntlement. “Lifting your shirt now.” He slid his hands under the soft fabric once more and raised it up. At the first touch of the cotton ball to her skin, she hissed and twisted.
“In through the nose, out through the mouth,” he advised. He went as fast as he could, blowing on the bubbling liquid. When he reached the band of her bra, he hesitated. “How high up does this bark burn go?”
“It’s fine,” she said quickly.
“That wasn’t the question.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she sighed. “Up to my shoulder blades.”
“Damn it, Freckles,” he growled. Why hadn’t she stopped him when she’d felt the first scrape? He debated how to handle it, then gave in to the process. Call it penance. “Take off your shirt and bra.”
She barked out a laugh. “Yeah, right. Just leave it with me and I’ll finish up.”
“Your T-Rex arms can reach back here?” She slapped at him but didn’t turn around. “I’ll look the other way. You can keep your shirt against your front, just give me your back so I can finish up and we can move on.”
She pointed wordlessly at the door, and he turned to face it. The quiet sounds of her undressing, even just the top, had him fighting off a semi. It had been a long time—an embarrassingly long time—since he was last alone with a naked woman.
She cleared her throat. “You can turn back around now.”
He did, and immediately his semi turned into the full blow hard-on he’d been hoping to avoid. She was facing away from him still, her spine and neck ramrod straight, T-shirt clutched to her front as a scant nod to modesty. But her back, where it wasn’t red and raw, was a creamy silk, dotted by the occasional freckle.
After another moment, she turned her head to glance at him. “Killian?”
Those eyes, so smoky and confused, snapped him out of it. “Yeah, found the stuff.” He held up the antibiotic ointment, like that explained his reason for staring at her like a horny teenager.
“I thought you already had that.”
“I had the peroxide.” He shifted forward and forced himself to take two calming breaths before kneeling down and examining the scrapes. “I’m just going to work on the worst parts. Is that okay?”
“You don’t need to do this at all. They’re not life threatening. I’m not going to die from bark-itis.” There was a thread of amusement in her voice, one that said she was catching on to his lack of nursing skills and confidence level.
He almost agreed, just to keep his hands off her, but he looked once more at the angry scratches. His mind couldn’t help pairing them with the near-violent lust he’d felt for her walking on the path. And that it was his fault alone she was hurt. “This is better.” His guilt needed to do this.
He poured some peroxide on a cotton ball over the sink, then—while silently asking for forgiveness—pressed the damp cotton to the largest scrape.
She hissed, and her back tightened in response. The liquid bubbled and, without thinking, he bent his head to blow on the moist skin to speed the pain along. He worked as quickly as he could, alternating the cotton ball with blowing to ease the sting until all the major abrasions were taken care of. “Sorry.”
Aileen’s fingers were balled against her knee, but her voice was light as she said, “No problem.”
Dabbing a little antibiotic ointment on the largest scrape, he rubbed it in with butterfly light touches. “Hurt?”
Her head dropped a little, but he couldn’t see her face. “No.”
He wasn’t sure if he believed her. He worked on the next one, and as the muscles in her neck tightened, his free hand dropped to her lower back. He stroked the uninjured skin, hoping somehow to soothe the hurt he was causing by focusing her mind on a different kind of touch. Probably wasn’t working, but he was out of ideas.
He finished as fast as he could without hurting her more. As he smoothed the last bandage on, he stood and backed away quickly. His elbow rapped against the door jamb and he hissed in a breath. Damn, that hurt.
She turned immediately, hand still clutching the shirt to her front. “Are you okay?”
He shook his head, then nodded. Brilliant. “No. I mean yeah, I’m good. I’ll let you get dressed.” He disappeared as fast as his feet would take him, to safer parts of the apartment.