“Now the ribs,” he said, rising. “Just wrap the compression belt around my chest and smooth the Velcro closed.”
She’d seen Tommy do this yesterday and had a general idea of what she’d need to do, but somehow it was different when she was the one standing in front of him. “You can’t lift your arms, can you?”
“Not the left one. You’ll need to get close, slide it up under my elbow and pull tight.”
She was facing him, almost hip to hip, torso to torso and she could feel his warmth, heat radiating off of him. Admittedly, the cabin was warm. Billy liked setting the thermostat at a comfortable temperature, to keep him from aching from cold when he wasn’t moving. But confronting Billy’s bare chest, and broad shoulders, and narrow waist made her throat dry, and her heart do weird little skips.
“I probably have coffee breath,” she warned.
“I like coffee.”
Her face grew hot, and butterflies filled her middle as she took the wide stretchy compression belt from the counter. She slid it around his waist and then lifted it up his torso until she could pull it tightly closed. Her nose was almost pressed to his chest and he smelled amazing, skin and a hint of soap, or body wash, but whatever it was, it was delicious. He smelled delicious. It’d be so easy to put a little tiny kiss there, right between his pecs, but she stopped herself from going down that path.
“Sling next?” she asked huskily.
He sat back down on the stool, and she had to step between his legs to slip the strap around his neck. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she said.
“You won’t,” he answered, “at least not more than I already hurt.”
She looked up into his blue eyes. They were exactly the same shade as Beck’s. “You’re in pain now?”
“I tried to do too much in the shower—” He broke off as she arched an eyebrow. “Do you have a dirty mind?”
“No.” Erika blushed and vigorously shook her head, and yet they were so close, and he was so warm and there was something powerful in the close proximity, something intoxicating. “I—” She broke off, and bit into her lower lip. “Nothing. Let’s just get you dressed.”
She helped ease his left elbow into the blue sling, drawing the strap through and pulling it taut, stopping when Billy told her that it was good. She had to lean in to press the Velcro pieces together, ensuring a snug fit, and with her nose practically in the side of his neck, her heart raced, her pulse pounding, even as desire coiled in the pit of her stomach, making her feel breathless. Dizzy.
She peeked up at his mouth. He had firm lips, just full enough to make her think he’d know how to kiss. But of course he’d know how to kiss. He knew how to do everything. It was why women flocked to see him in every town.
Usually that would be enough to pull her back, bring her to her senses, but this morning she didn’t want to move away. This morning she wanted to move in.
She wanted to touch him, feel him, feel his mouth on hers.
She couldn’t ever remember wanting to be kissed this badly.
But just wanting something didn’t make it right, or realistic, and she needed to remain in reality. Firmly rooted in reality. She couldn’t afford to be one of those women who lost their head over a hot guy with great pheromones.
“You could probably use some clothes at this point,” she said, heart still racing, voice unsteady. “Is there a shirt or sweatshirt I could grab for you?”
“There’s a light gray sweatshirt hanging on a hook by the front door. I’ll take that one.”
It was a short walk to the door, and there was only one sweatshirt on the coat hooks. She lifted it off, glad to see it had a zipper, and carried it back to him. Billy took the sweatshirt from her, slid his right arm into the right sleeve, and then sat still while she helped draw the left side over his immobile shoulder and arm.
But just lifting his right arm had exposed more of his magnificent torso, the thick compression band doing more to define the thick muscles in his back than hide them. His hard, carved abs appeared below the edge of the compression garment, disappearing into the waistband of his sweats. He had an eight-pack at the very least. She wouldn’t let herself count them all, only that his body was ridiculously hot and she understood why women wanted it. Him.
She did, too.
Just a kiss, and maybe—
“If you could just tug the fabric over the left shoulder a bit more, we should be able to zip the sweatshirt closed,” he said.
Erika was having a hard time processing what he was saying. She looked into his eyes, needing him to repeat the instructions. His intensely blue eyes seemed to be looking all the way through her, straight into her heart and soul. He wasn’t smiling either, and a tiny shiver raced through her, making her skin sensitive all over.
“Just adjust the left shoulder,” he said, his voice pitched deep. “Zip it up, as far as you can, and I’ll be good for the day.”
Her hand shook ever so slightly as she connected the sweatshirt at the hem, hooking the zipper threads. She drew the zipper up, closing the soft cotton fabric over his chest. “How’s that?” she asked, stopping zipping halfway between the hard planes of his chest. “Or do you want it higher? Not sure how much movement you need.”
“You could take it up another inch,” he said.
Again, her gaze met his and her breath caught in her throat, emotions flitting through her—desire, curiosity, need. She reached up to zip another inch, her face so close to his chest that she felt surrounded by his powerful body, cocooned by his warmth and scent. Zipper sorted, she adjusted the sling strap a fraction of an inch, her fingertips brushing his chest. He was all muscle and firm, and her insides felt wobbly with want. “What soap did you use?”
“Whatever was in there. I think it’s just a bar of soap. You don’t like it?”
“No. It’s nice. You smell good.”
“Thank you.”
He smelled better than good but she wasn’t going to tell him that, just as she wasn’t going to tell him how much she wanted to kiss him, just to brush her lips over his, and see what it felt like, see if she liked it.
Maybe he wasn’t a good kisser.
Maybe he didn’t kiss the way she wanted.
She almost hoped so, because right now she found him virtually irresistible.
“All good?” he asked.
She forced herself to give him a brisk pat on his chest before stepping backward. Erika ignored the fact that her legs were embarrassingly weak. Just like her insides felt weak and shivery, and her lower back felt tingly. “There you are. Good to go.”
“Thank you.”
She managed a smile, hoping it looked serene. “How about some coffee?”
“I’d love some. Does Beck need a bottle?”
“He had one earlier. He should be good for a bit.”
“What about breakfast then?”
Erika frowned. “For Beck?”
“For us. Aren’t you hungry?”
“I’ll probably have something later. I don’t eat right away—” She broke off, realizing what he was saying. Billy was hungry. “You eat breakfast.”
“I like breakfast,” he agreed, prolonging the conversation.