Chinook, Wine and Sink Her. Morgan Q O'Reilly
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Название: Chinook, Wine and Sink Her
Автор: Morgan Q O'Reilly
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Короткие любовные романы
isbn: 9780984113224
isbn:
“Well. I guess that’s my cue to bed down,” Creed chuckled. “Give me your cup and I’ll wash it out in the creek while I clean up.”
Relaxed, Linnet stared at him through hooded eyes still filled with water. Slowly she blinked them clear and another yawn, less intense, followed. “You win. I’ll let you do the dishes.” She sighed and pushed to her feet. Unconsciously she reached to scratch an itch on the back of her neck.
“Where’s the calamine?”
“Hmmm?” She looked up to see Creed standing close to her. “Oh, it’s over there on the counter.” She pointed toward the kitchen.
A moment later he stood behind her gently dotting soothing antihistamine cream on her bug bites.
“Any on your back?” he asked.
“I… I don’t…”
“I won’t attack you, so lift the back of your top. I promise, only the finger with lotion will touch you.”
She hesitated then felt a familiar skin irritation—right where she couldn’t reach and knew it would bug her all night. With a sigh she lifted the back of the top, careful to keep her breasts covered.
“Jesus,” he swore softly. “You have a least ten in various stages of infection back here. You can’t scratch them.”
“They itch, I scratch.” She let him hear her annoyance. Only because the cream felt good, she didn’t step away.
“I just appointed myself your caretaker. I’ll check them again in the morning. If they don’t look better we’ll need to dose each spot with antiseptic.”
Even though he couldn’t see, she rolled her eyes. He was right about not scratching, but it was hard.
Continuing his gentle work, he tsked. “You wear bug dope, I smelled it on you earlier. Doesn’t it work?”
“It helps, but no, it doesn’t really work. I’ve never had such a problem before and I grew up camping. There’s something different about Alaskan mosquitoes. They don’t react the same way. I’ve tried everything. That bath oil people rave about, pure deet, citronella—you name it, I’ve tried it. The coils in the cabin help.” She nodded toward one on a little metal stand with a paper plate under it to catch the ash. “I wear the colors everyone says they ignore. I’ve changed my shampoo and my soap. I’ve even tried adding more garlic to my diet. It hasn’t helped.”
“There,” he said and tugged on the back of her shirt. “That part’s done. There’s a couple on your arms and then I’ll get the ones on your face.”
He worked in silence and it felt comfortable enough that she relaxed—until he turned her around. With great care he touched a dot of the cream to the bites on her cheeks, neck and above the neckline of her top. Then with ever-slowing touches, he rubbed the cream into each red mark. The cream was cool, but his touch was hot. By the time he’d rubbed the last bite, her breathing was labored, but no less than his. Reluctance was clear in each movement as he stepped back and attached the cap to the tube.
“That should help tonight. I’ll check again in the morning.”
Because of the dry spot in her throat, she nodded to avoid speaking. “Good night,” she finally managed to whisper. “I’ll try not to make too much noise when I get up. I’m sure you’d appreciate a chance to sleep in.”
“Sleep? In the summer? That’s what winter is for,” he chuckled. “I wouldn’t be adverse to a cup of coffee in the morning.” A hopeful note added to his half smile.
“I usually only make a cup for myself, but I’ll put a pot on if you knock on the wall to let me know when you’re moving.”
“Thanks.”
They shared a smile, his wide and friendly, hers faint and somewhat shy, and then he turned.
“Do you usually bar the door at night?” He pointed to the two-by-four near the door.
“Yes. When I’m alone. Should I tonight?”
He turned back to look at her and gave her a self-conscious smile. “Oh yeah. Definitely.”
Mouth dry again she just nodded and watched him close the wooden door behind him.
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