Page 54 of Burn

“Sorry, Firecracker, I think it’s infected despite what I did. The rest of it is just how raw it is.”

“Do we have anything I can take? I promise, I’m not usually a wuss about pain, but this is bad.”

“You’re not a wuss at all. Stay here.”

The bed moved as he rose and I turned my head to track him. He didn’t go far, though he disappeared into the bathroom briefly. The sound of running water gave me some idea of what he was doing.

When he came back, he had a washcloth in his hand, with care he placed it on my back. It was too cold and not remotely cold enough at the same time. Then he went back to the toiletries kit.

I rubbed my cheek against the cover as he flipped the folded kit open. It was for first aid. Oh, that made more sense. He pulled out small vials and checked each one.

“Drugs?”

“Nothing that hardcore,” he said as almost an apology. “We don’t tend to travel with the heavy duty stuff and I’d rather have an actual physician handle the dosing.”

That made sense.

“So what are those?” Talking didn’t help with the ache or the cold, but it was distracting me some.

“Antibiotics,” he answered. “If that’s infected, the best thing to do is hit you with some broad spectrum, then give you some acetaminophen for the pain. Do you know if you’re allergic to anything?”

“Not that I know of,” I said. “I was lucky as a kid. Didn’t get sick that much.” We lost so much family to illness. It seemedalmost cruel that they got so sick they ended up dying, while I was so healthy. “So I don’t think so.”

“Right—I have one epi-pen, so let’s go for not allergic. I’m going with this one—it’s a cephalosporin. I’m going with a half-dose, make sure you don’t have a reaction then we’ll do the rest.”

He was already drawing up the medicine with a kind of competency that helped me to relax. I wasn’t a huge fan of needles, but I wasn’t scared of them either.

When he had it ready, he glanced at me. “Probably better to do the injection in the soft tissue near your ass.” He was almost apologetic.

“Be careful, it’s very expensive. I wouldn’t want to void the warranty or anything.” It was a weak joke, but he offered up a quick smile to humor me.

“Do you mind if I do the squeeze test before the shot?” Just the barest hint of teasing underscored the words.

I snorted. “Better than doing it after—but thank you for asking.”

He winked, then ran a hand over my hip to my ass then gave one cheek a solid squeeze. Heat raced through me to combat the cold and it felt ridiculously good. Particularly because I watched his eyes the whole time. His expression was an open book of surprised enjoyment.

Then he was cleaning a spot just below the curve of my ass with an alcohol swab.

“Little prick,” he warned and then jabbed me.

“That’s what he said,” I muttered. The shot stung, but it didn’t hurt as much as I expected. It was done soon enough and he got rid of the supplies, then returned to the bed.

“Firecracker, if a man tells you he has a little prick. Believe him. Cause that ass deserves the best.”

I laughed again, the pain so sharp that it bloomed through my back like I’d set it on fire.

“Yeah, I saw that.”

“Not trying to hide it,” I told him around a series of shallow breaths.

He crouched again, then stroked the hair back from my face with care. “Tell me what I can do…”

A part of me just wanted to go to sleep and wake up at home with all of this as a distant memory from a half-forgotten nightmare. The rest of me was too well aware that the ship had long since sailed.

“I need to pee,” I admitted.

“You up for walking, once I get you on your feet, or do you want me to carry you in there?” Somehow, he managed to make the offer sound perfect and it didn’t make me self conscious at all.

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