13. Warner
WARNER
MAKE YOU ALRIGHT - SOMEBODY’S CHILD
It’s been a while since I stitched my own wounds. Sabre’s medics were too preoccupied with stabilising our rescued trafficking victim to treat a minor head injury, and I sure as fuck wasn’t going to ask the chopper to land on the hospital’s helipad for a few basic sutures.
Braced against the bathroom sink in my en suite, I’ve laid out all my supplies in preparation to close the three-inch gash across my forehead. Scalpel, small forceps, suture scissors and the all-important needle with dissolvable polymer thread.
Ten should do the trick.
Here goes nothing.
Threading the surgical steel hook to clasp between the scissors, a knock on the door halts me from tackling the freshly cleaned wound site. It creaks open to reveal Ember’s stormy blue-greys peering in. Damn, she looks as rough as I feel.
“I can still take you to the hospital,” she pleads without much hope.
“I told you I can handle it, Em. Just a few stitches. I tackled much worse in the army.”
“Not your own face, though. Can I help?”
“Do you know how to perform surgical sutures?”
She steps into the bathroom, clicking the door shut behind her. “Talk me through it. I have steady hands, and I’m a fast learner.”
I know for a fact that she won’t be deterred. My girl’s as stubborn as she is fiercely devoted. Once she’s washed her hands, I hand over the equipment, sighing as I sit on the edge of the tub.
“Use the forceps like this… Yes. Good. You’re going to hold the wound with these, then aim the needle at a ninety-degree angle, away from the edge.”
“Ninety degrees, okay. Got it.”
“Then rotate your wrist to follow the natural curve of the needle, threading it through the skin. You want to cross the incision site to exit the other side. We’ll close from there.”
She nods, eyeing my forehead closely. “You can seriously do all that yourself?”
“With practice, it’s easy enough. Have a go. You won’t hurt me.”
“Pretty sure it will hurt if I fuck this up.”
Cupping her waist, I guide her in-between my splayed legs, hugging her belly close. “I trust you.”
The sensation of serrated steel parting flesh isn’t pleasant.
But after all these years of service, it’s more of a dull annoyance than painful.
I think I lost my nausea for needles in a distant desert, piecing together wounded soldiers so they could be shipped home. Or what was left of them, at least.
“How’s it going?”
“Good.” The tip of her tongue juts out in deep concentration. “How do I close the suture?”
“You’re going to lift the scissors to the centre of the wound so you can loop the thread around. I’ll talk you through tying a surgeon’s knot to secure the edges from there.”
“Shit. Okay.”
“Em?” I trace gentle circles on her midsection below the hem of her tank top. “Breathe.”
“Why did I think I could do this?”
“Because you’re strong and more than capable. Take a breath, let’s close this knot.”
With some gentle coaxing, she works her way through the final step. I sense when the wound has been pulled shut, sealed by her new suture skills. She snips off the thread then tilts her head to examine the result.
“I did it!”
“Pass me that shaving mirror?”
Ember hands it over. “Please tell me I’ve done it right.”
Sure enough, it looks pretty damn perfect to me.
“Nailed it. Now start the next.”
Looking far too pleased with herself, Ember confidently moves on to the next stitch, allowing me to simply watch her. God, she is mesmerising. Even pale, exhausted and bruise-laden. The way her eyes light up with a determined fire that can’t be replicated will never cease to amaze me.
To think I wasted so much time denying my feelings, no matter how they haunted me during every deployment, every tour of a distant land where loneliness was the only thing to keep me warm at night. In those empty years, I had nothing but her memory.
And our story didn’t end there. It wasn’t enough for the torture of craving all that was forbidden between us to drive a wedge in what could’ve been. I had to lose her all over again then spend another six years longing for the chance to touch eyes on the woman I love again.
“Okay, I think I’ve got this.”
“Where are the others?” I clear my suddenly thick throat.
“Hyland and Blaine are still with our Jane Doe.” Ember sets down the scissors. “We should have an identity on her soon. I think Axel’s on his way home from HQ. He went with Gunnar to figure out what the hell is happening.”
“He’s obviously signed a deal.”
“Clearly. A little head’s up would’ve been nice.”
“Agreed.” I shift my weight. “Though if it weren’t for Gunnar, things could’ve gotten a lot uglier. We barely made it out of there as it is. You nearly fucking drowned, Em.”
“You were unconscious and covered in blood,” she counters.
“They’re little scratches.”
“I’m sewing your skin up with my bare hands. I can see how much these are not just little scratches, Warner. You’re lucky to have avoided a concussion or worse.”
Honestly, she isn’t wrong. So many things about that raid didn’t go to plan.
Least of all being intercepted in the street by two masked thugs with assault rifles.
I didn’t know it was possible to take Blaine by surprise, but with all our focus on tracking our team, they had the perfect opportunity to strike.
“We have two of Madden’s minions still alive for questioning, and we rescued our victim without harm,” I argue back. “That’s worth a little blood and pain.”
“Would you say the same thing if I were the one being stitched up?” Ember arches a brow.
My fingers dig into her soft skin, clenching tightly. “Not fair.”
“I’ll take that as a no.”
Another suture is snipped off. Sensing I’m not going to win this argument, I slide my palms up her sides, moving slow so as not to distract her. Her skin is so soft, supple.
After washing off the night’s chlorine, she smells amazing—like the floral shampoo and vanilla-scented body scrub in her shower. Huh, maybe I am concussed. The idea of pinning her down and licking my way to her very core is sounding far too appealing.
“Are you trying to put me off?” Ember playfully kicks my foot.
“Nope. Just keeping myself occupied.”
“You’re dangerously close to tickling me.”
“Mm, I’ll be careful.”
Traversing higher still, my fingertips brush the undersides of her bare breasts. Ember stutters in a breath as I tease the swollen mounds, letting my index digit skirt higher to flick her stiffening nipple.
Flesh puckers and tightens in response, eager to reward me. I’ll never get enough of playing with this tight, sexy body. All the rounded curves and flat planes that have teased me throughout the years… Finally mine.
“Warner…”
“Focus on your job, Nurse Lawson. I don’t want you to mess up my pretty face.”
“I’m trying not to.”
Palming one round tit, my thumb and forefinger tease her nipple into a peak. I love how the slightest attention makes her squirm. She really is so needy. Her thighs clench between my legs, quaking with a fine tremble.
I don’t give a shit if she’s got a needle in my face right now. After hearing about her being plucked from a pool on the verge of drowning, I need to know she’s okay. To touch and feel her. Erase any fear about the forces trying to rip us apart, even if only for a moment.
She bites her bottom lip as I seize her elastic waistband and push, guiding athletic leggings over her hips. Her basic cotton panties are hotter than anything when sodden from her weeping pussy. I’ll be keeping these as soon as I can tear them off her.
“You need to stop,” Ember rumbles. “Else I will screw this up.”
“Spoilsport.”
“Hardly. Just sit still.”
I can squeeze handfuls of her tight, pert ass without moving too much. Later though, I’m gonna spank her creamy skin raw for scaring the shit out of me. Her fault or not. Drowning is firmly off the menu for our next operation.
By some miracle, Ember completes the sutures without me stripping her bare and burying my tongue in her cunt. Any longer and I’m not sure I could’ve controlled myself. She snips off the final knot then places the tools down.
“There, all done.”
“Perfect.” I crash my palm into the globe of her backside. “I don’t know how much patience I had left in me.”
“Poor, deprived Warner.”
“I am deprived.”
Rolling her eyes, Ember pulls from my orbit to reach for the bath taps. I watch her turn them both to begin filling the tub with warm water, adding some of my shower gel for good measure.
“We’re taking a bath?”
“Only if you can keep your stitches dry.” She reaches over to open the medicine cupboard. “In fact, do you have any waterproof dressings?”
“Uh, try the extra first aid kit under the sink.”
I take the opportunity to strip out of my sweat shorts and T-shirt I threw on when we got home. Detaching my prosthetic takes a little more work; the levers are held by powerful mechanisms that keep the carbon fibre locked in place.
“Here.” She unpeels a bandage to smooth over the stitches.
“Do I pass now, Nurse?”
“You’ll do. Be careful, though.”
While she tends to the filling tub and dims the lights, I finish detaching the hollow prosthetic to set it aside. The layers of sweat-resistant sleeves come off next. Most people don’t realise how much goes into prep long before I attach the leg itself.
I massage the sore residual limb while watching the water line fill. Ember turns off the taps then moves to shimmy her leggings off, taking her panties with them much to my delight.
“You just going to stare at me?” Cheekily, she sets a hand on her hip.
“Might do. Hell of a sight.”
“Pervert.”
“Call it what you like. I don’t care.”
My mouth grows bone dry as she tugs the tank top off to free her bare tits. Now I am staring. Ember flicks flame-red hair over her shoulder then clambers into the tub to sink into its soapy warmth.
“Don’t just sit there, get in.”
“Thought I was a pervert?” I challenge.
“I don’t mind sharing my tub with a delinquent. Come on.”