Page 81 of Deadly Strain

Her hands brushed the skin of his inner thigh as she took the bandage off and he nearly came in his underwear.

Once the bandage was off, she removed the pads and pushed his leg up, so she could see, and prod, both entry and exit wounds.

“How bad is the pain?” she asked, her hands handling him with confident care. No hesitation, just the competence only experience and knowledge gives a person.

Fuck,that was hot.

He let his head fall back and said, “I’m going to hell.”

“What?”

He brought his head up and let her see the need on his face. The kind a man never gets over, never lets go.

She glanced at the erection the size of a canoe in his underwear, rolled her eyes and said, “Put that thing away before someone sees it.”

Sharp had to choke down a belly laugh that would have alerted anyone within a mile of where they were. It shook his body so hard tears leaked out of his eyes and he collapsed on the ground.

“Goddamn, Doc, I love your mouth,” he managed to wheeze out.

When she looked at him like he was the dirty-minded man he was, he added, “But I love your brain even more.”

“Stop with the sucking up,” she said, as she gave his thigh the same TLC as his other leg, then wrapped it all up with another bandage. Again, she seemed fine, until you looked at her mouth and the white lines of strain around it.

Great job, dickhead. Was he determined to fuck everything up today?

He wiped the stupid grin off his face. “I’m sorry.”

She glanced at him as she collected all the dirty bandages and moved back so he could pull up his pants. “Okay.”

The word sounded forced to him, and she headed toward the hillside exit a little too fast. If he’d thought he’d gotten himself out of the doghouse with that sorry excuse for an apology, he was wrong.

“Shit,” he said, jumping as he tried to get his pants over his butt. “Grace, wait.”

She paused, but only for a second.

“Grace.” He finally wrestled his fatigues up and leaped forward to catch her arm in a careful grip. “I really am. Sorry, I mean.”

Her blank face didn’t change.

“Fuck, I’m no good at this touchy-feely stuff.” He ran a hand over his face. “I shouldn’t have acted like a sailor who hasn’t seen port in months. I’m such an asshole to even think that shit. How can I make things right between us?”

Her shoulders relaxed and she blinked fast a few times, like she was trying not to cry. “You just did it.”

“What are you apologizing for?” a voice said from behind Sharp.

Hernandez. Just what he needed, a peanut gallery. Not.

Sharp turned to head off anything else the moron was going to say, but Grace beat him to it. “Being an asshole. Your turn is next.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Grace keep going toward the exit with the garbage.

Hernandez grinned at him. “Making time with the doc?” he asked in a confidential speaking tone of voice.

Sharp’s reply wasn’t any louder, but it had a backbone of cold steel. “Fuck you.” He glared at his friend. “Say whatever you want about me, but do not disrespect the doc.”

“Ah, shit, sorry, Sharp.” Hernandez looked genuinely hang-dogged. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“Yeah, well, start, will ya? We’ve got to be on top of this and back her up all the way or we might all be dead.”

“You bozos are too hardheaded for dead,” Grace said, coming back into the main cave. “I bet you’d even argue with Saint Peter at the Gates about being a wrong delivery.”

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