Page 34 of Sing Your Secrets
ten
Miles
“Sorry. I know that one hurt,” Reese says as she yanks another splinter from my flesh. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Didn’t even feel it,” I lie between gritted teeth. Holding my breath, I try to stay still as I lay, shirt-off, stomach-down, on Reese’s leather loveseat as she doctors up my wounds.
It’s fascinating how the contents of a woman’s bathroom can double as a mini emergency room. Reese brought out three sets of tweezers, all in different sizes, two different types of salves that do God knows what, a tabletop mirror with a fluorescent ring of light, cotton pads, cotton balls, Q-tips, and enough isopropyl alcohol and witch hazel to sterilize everything. I asked her why she has jumbo gallons of antiseptic and apparently, she does her own nails and waxing, but I can’t for the life of me understand why someone would need so much alcohol to do all that.
“Macho,” she mutters and I feel her breath against my bare skin. I can control my fidgeting, but there’s nothing I can do about the goosebumps.
“I’m not trying to—”
“No, no,” she interrupts. “That was a compliment. I like a macho guy.” She lets out a little laugh. “I’m almost done, there’s only one more splinter I can see, but I’ll have to really dig in there. It’s deep.”
Without thinking, the words fall off my lips. “It’s fine. I can take it deep.” Shifting my head to the side, I look at her teasing expression. Her lips are smashed together as she tries to hold in her laugh. I chuckle at our shared lack of maturity. “Go ahead, laugh.”
“Nope,” she chirps, rising from where she’s kneeling, “that’s low-hanging fruit. I’ll save it for something a bit more clever. But just so we’re clear…that’s what she said.”
I laugh. “Fair enough.”
Holding her hands overhead, she stretches. I immediately feel guilty. She’s been kneeling on the floor, hovering over me, as I’ve been laying on her plush couch for at least forty minutes now. She carefully removed a copious number of splinters with the kind of precision that makes me wonder why she studied law instead of medicine.
I didn’t think my scratched-up back was anything more than a nuisance, but I could literally feel the inflammation calming as Reese worked her magic and removed the wood splinters from my skin. She was right… I was probably near infection.
“Are you over it? I can take it from here.” I’m not sure if her standing is my cue to peel myself off her couch.
She places her hand on her hip and cocks her head to the side with a lofty grin. “Now how would that go, Miles?” She places the tweezers in my outstretched palm. “I actually kind of want to see it.”
There’s no way in hell I can remove a splinter near my spine with any sort of accuracy. “Sorry, you’re right. I need you.”
“Atta boy,” she says with obvious glee. “I just wanted to hear you say it.” Reese takes her tweezers back, then sets them on her coffee table before heading to her kitchen. “I need a little stretch break is all,” she calls over her shoulder. I try my best not to watch her walk away, but damn…those jeans. I’m torn between loving how they wrap around her ass and thighs, but also wanting to rip them off of her.
“Thank you, Reese. You surprised me.” I knew you were sexy and funny. I had no idea you were so nice too.
She returns to the couch with two bottled beers. I sit up as she hands me the drink in her left hand. Sitting to my right, she barely leaves a sliver of space between us. “Surprised you, how?” Reese asks, hiking one knee up and letting her other leg dangle off the couch.
“That you pick up men off the street and bring them home to play doctor.”
She snorts. “Only when I really see potential.” She takes a sip of her beer and points to my back. “Is it feeling better?”
I nod. “A lot better.”
“Good.” She takes another sip before placing the bottle on the coffee table, then sinks back to her knees. “Lay back down. One more.” I hand her my beer to sit next to hers and do as I’m instructed.
Up until this point, I’d mostly felt the cool tip of the metal tweezers, poking and prodding me, but I flinch dramatically when Reese’s entire palm presses into my lower back.
“Whoa there, boy. Calm your hooves. I haven’t even started. If I put pressure right here,” she says pushing down, “it’ll hurt less.”
I’m not squirming because it hurts. It’s her breast grazing against me as she presses her weight into her hand. It’s the uncomfortable bulge in my pants that’s beginning to grow. “Just go for it. No need to be careful.”
“You sure?”
“Mhmm,” I mumble and she immediately stabs me with the tweezers. Holy. Shit. It takes inhuman strength to pretend to be manly as she lunges for what I’m convinced is my spleen, not a little wooden sliver.
“Got it!” she says triumphantly. Thank God. “You really do have a high pain tolerance.” All right, I’m crying on the inside, but at least she thinks I’m a man about it. Worth it. I suddenly feel something cold and wet on my back followed by a sharp sting. This time I buck like a startled bull. “Woman! Warning please.”
“Whoops, sorry.” She giggles. “Come on, tough guy. It’s not that bad. It’s just a little antiseptic.” She smooths a large Band-Aid over my skin. “There, you big baby.” Scooting backward on the ground, so our faces are level, she smiles as she holds up the bloody splinter, she just relieved me of. I’ll admit, it’s menacingly huge.