Chapter 2 #2
She rolled her eyes. “Ugh, fine. Hold on.” Pulling a marker and a piece of paper from a drawer, she scrawled a message.
“And I thought I told you not to call me Pipsqueak? It’s like you want me to grab a box cutter and peel the flesh from your bones or something.
” She locked the front door and taped the note to the glass.
“Okay, I’m ready. Let’s get this over with. ”
Maya pushed past me, heading to the stockroom without so much as a backward glance. I chuckled and followed, once again savouring the way her ass filled out those leggings.
“What did you put on the door?”
She stopped at the workstation, eyebrow raised.
“Back in fifteen minutes. I normally wouldn’t bother locking the door if I’m stepping away for a moment, but I don’t want any customers walking in while you’re using your first aid skills on me.
” Without warning, she ripped her shirt over her head and shoved her leggings down, letting them pool at her feet.
My jaw dropped, and the first aid kit clattered to the floor.
Maya’s answering laughter was pure music, not that it really registered thanks to how her legs held me in thrall.
Creamy smooth skin. Juicy, well-proportioned, delicately dimpled thighs with a hint of muscle.
They were by far the sexiest legs I had ever seen.
How would they feel wrapped around me?
“Liam? You alright? It looks like you’re having trouble breathing.” She smirked. “It’s not quite the violent end I had in mind, but I suppose stunning you into a stupor with my pale legs is a decent second choice. That’s your punishment for calling me Pipsqueak again.”
“Huh? What?” I shook my head, shoving aside my increasingly inappropriate thoughts. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m fine.” I waited a beat before adding, “If I’d known there would be stripping involved, I’d have stocked up on singles.”
“Haha. Hilarious,” she deadpanned. “How else would you get at the cat scratches?”
I stared at her dumbly, realizing I hadn’t thought that far ahead.
I’d jumped at the chance to spend time with her with no plan in place.
When I saw her smiling at that damn Coffee Guy, an uncomfortable knot of something that felt an awful lot like jealousy in my gut forced me to act.
Thank god I’d taken a first aid course in the past, or this would have been a complete disaster.
I must have taken too long to answer because Maya sighed. “Okay … how about you come closer and clean the wounds before someone knocks on the door?”
“Yeah. Yes. Definitely.”
Clenching my fists to stop my hands from shaking, I dropped to my knees and shuffled across the room. The need to touch her nearly overpowered my self-control. Which was crazy. I barely knew this woman.
“Forgetting something?” Maya smirked.
I glanced around, confused—until I spotted the kit on the floor where I’d left it. On the other side of the room.
Liam, you idiot.
In my nearly-naked-Maya induced stupor, I’d forgotten to grab the damn kit before I shuffled over. And being an idiot, I stayed on my knees and shuffled to get it before shuffling right back. I’d pay for that with sore knees that later.
“Got it,” I muttered, avoiding her stare. “Okay, where were we? Oh, right. First aid.”
I set the box at Maya’s feet and rummaged through the contents for the antiseptic wipes. “Ready? This might sting.” My hands shook so badly that it took three tries to open the packet. “So, uh … where are you hurt?”
Maya leaned back on the workstation and released a shaky breath—the sole sign she might not have been as calm about this as she’d initially appeared—then gestured to her side. “Harold used me like a ladder. If the stinging means anything, he broke skin in at least a few spots.”
Why was this so difficult? I’d been around plenty of women who’d been wearing less than Maya was now, and I’d never been this nervous.
Clearly, I hadn’t thought this through. When I’d volunteered for first aid duty, I figured it would be a chance to talk to Maya some more.
Somehow, it hadn’t crossed my mind that I would have to touch her.
And now that I was about to do just that, I freaked out like a teenager seeing his first real-life pair of boobs.
Which was completely humiliating. At least I was experienced enough now that I didn’t have to worry about coming in my pants from it like I had my actual first time. Probably.
“So … uh, I’m going to touch you now,” I warned, as much for her benefit as mine. My voice sounded steady, even as my heart pounded erratically in my chest. I rested my hand on her thigh, expecting her to pull back—but instead of moving away, for a brief moment, she tensed.
The air between us shifted.
“You good?” I murmured, my eyes flicking to hers.
She swallowed hard. “Get on with it, Bishop.” Her words said she wanted this over quickly, but her voice was a throaty whisper. Did she feel the electricity in the air like I did? Or was she really just impatient for this to be over?
The way her fingers clutched the counter behind her, the way her pupils dilated, the way her body swayed ever so slightly toward my touch, told me everything I needed to know.
I might be in over my head, but I didn’t think I was the only one.