Page 40 of Snowed In

I laughed despite myself and let go of my cock. I didn’t know what I’d intended to accomplish with that little display, but Rafferty was a law-and-order man through and through.

“Be right back,” he said, his smile widening. “Don’t get into too much trouble.”

“Wait,” I said as he slipped out of the bathroom. “Where are you going?”

He chuckled to himself but didn’t answer.Dick.

I gingerly soaped up my bits and rinsed off, all the while listening as he rummaged around in the small cabin. By the time Rafferty stepped back into the bathroom, I’d already finished my shower, grabbed a surprisingly fresh towel from the closet, and was drying off.

It was worth noting that Rafferty had lost his shirt and shoes, but he’d found a spool of bright green thread, a Dopp kit, and a fucking handle of vodka.

“Dude, what kind of party you got going on here?” I asked, eyeballing his powerful, furry chest as I wrapped the towel around my waist.

He set the Dopp kit on the windowsill, then held up the vodka and the spool of thread, which had a needle sticking out of it. “No party. I just need to take care of that lac on your head.”

“Care to explain why you have to do that shirtless?”

“Hung the wet shirt to dry and figured I should stitch you up before putting on another one.”

“How drunk are you?” I asked as he handed me the vodka.

“Not so much drunk anymore,” he said, sticking his tongue out as he threaded the needle. “Too much adrenaline.”

“That’s not as reassuring as you’d think,” I retorted. “Why don’t we save the backwoods surgery for when you’re fully sober?”

“Nope. I can see a sliver of your skull, and it’s making me queasy,” he said as he gestured to the vodka. “Take a few good swigs of that.”

I checked the mirror again and...yep. That white line through my brow was my skull. Great.

“Fine,” I said, drinking directly from the bottle. “Just don’t stab me in the fucking eye.”

“Roger that,” he said, then grabbed my hip, his hand half on the towel and half on my bare skin as he pivoted me. “Let’s get you into the light.”

“Hey,” I squawked. “Careful with the goods.”

He pursed his lips as he thumbed the knot on my towel. “Apologies. Just wanna make sure I don’t mess up your pretty face.”

Before I could respond, he placed a hand over my eye and splashed a bit of the vodka in the gash.Motherfucker.

After taking a swig for himself, he pushed the bottle into my hands. “Hold this.”

He set about decorating my brow with four crude stitches. After tying off the thread he snipped it with a pair of nail trimmers he found in the medicine cabinet, then pulled away to look at his work.

“It’s kinda Christmassy,” he said with a crooked smile.

I checked the mirror again and Rafferty was right. The green threaded into my brow was quite the festive touch. I huffed out a laugh. “You’re the kind of asshole who does things better when they’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Drunk, no.” He scratched at his neatly kept beard. “Lubricated? Maybe.”

“That so?”

“Mm.”

I took another drink, my lizard brain working overtime. Rafferty wasn’t at all what I remembered. He looked older, somehow. Like maybe life had been hard. It made me want to push him. Poke at his soft bits.

Maybe I’m not quite done fucking with him after all.

I reached out and ran my fingers through his thick chest hair.

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