upon the feelings he had for her, when he allowed himself to think about, to dream about, what if.
“You tempt me.” And that was the understatement of the damned millennium. “But, I…” He stopped there. For some reason he couldn’t force out the words.
“Nothin’ will change between us,” she swore, grabbing his hands and squeezing. Her touch affected him like it always did, making him hyperaware of the coolness of her fingers, the softness of her palms, the delicate feel of the bones in her hands. “Good or bad, fire stoked or banked, I will remain your friend. I swear it.”
His heart skipped a beat. Was it possible? Possible to have his cake and eat it too? Possible to know Maddy as a lover and a friend?
It seemed too good to be true. But, oh, how he wanted it to be true. He’d never wanted anything more in his life. Before he’d made the conscious decision to open his mouth, he heard himself asking, “You promise?” And there was so much longing in his tone. So much desperate longing.
“Cross my heart and hope not to die of anything but bliss.” She grinned and winked.
He snorted. But he couldn’t tell if it was with humor or surrender. When he squeezed her hands, something that looked very much like pain flickered across her face.
Is she changing her mind? Is she second-guessing herself now that I’m on the verge of agreeing?
“What is it?” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Maddy, if you’re not sure, you need to tell me right now because—”
“No.” She pulled her hands from his grasp. He felt the desertion of her touch like a blow to his solar plexus. “It’s not that. I have this splinter. See?” She held her hand in front of his face and he blinked, trying to focus on the angry red circle of skin at the base of her thumb. In the center was a line of gray buried beneath the surface. “I tried to pull it out, but—”
He didn’t hear the rest of her sentence. He was too busy turning her hand toward what little light glowed up from a nearby spotlight. And never let it be said that he couldn’t roll with the punches. One second he was inches away from Don Juan-ing her and scooping her into his arms. The next second he was forced to slip back into the role of friend—a.k.a. Splinter Remover.
“Hold still,” he told her, squeezing the skin around the splinter in an effort to push it out.
“Ssssss,” she hissed.
He stopped and, on impulse, bent to press a kiss to the irritated flesh. “Sorry,” he said into her hand, loving the way her fingers curled around his face like she was trying to hold on to his words. “I never wanna hurt you, Maddy.”
They both knew he was talking about much more than the splinter. Her free hand smoothed a lock of hair back from his face, her fingers running through the strands and sending ripples of sensation across his scalp and down his spine.
“I know that.” Her voice was hoarse. For a couple of seconds neither of them moved, neither of them spoke. Finally, she said, “Just leave it. It’s in too deep. I’m goin’ to need—”
“If you leave it, it could just work its way in further. And then you’ll be in real trouble. This is gonna sting,” he warned.
“No pain, no gain, right?” She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. His little soldier ready to bear the brunt of battlefield surgery. And she was his. For this one night she’d promised to be his.
Anticipation nipped at the nape of his neck, urging him to hurry up and finish the job so they could get back to…friends with benefits. Even the phrase made him feel primed, pumped, and raring to go.
“Stop me if it gets too bad.” He once again squeezed the soft flesh around the splinter, cursing the sucker to hell and back for having the extremely bad sense to mar Maddy’s perfect skin.
The end of the sliver poked through to the surface, but no matter how hard he squeezed, the rest refused to budge. He tried to pull it out, but his fingers were too thick and blunt.
“I gotta use my teeth,” he said before lifting her palm to his mouth.
She gasped when his breath caressed the center of her hand, but it had nothing to do with pain and everything to do with the current of want, of need, of desire