Chapter Three
"Oh, you find this amusing," Grissom said blandly as he wiped his hand over his face to get the rain out of his eyes.
"Sorry," she said, but continued to giggle.
"What the hell were you thinking, standing out in the middle of a thunderstorm?" he asked irritably as he realized that the clothes he had just put on were now so wet that they clung to him.
"Well—what the hell were you thinking, sneaking up behind someone and grabbing them in the middle of a thunderstorm?" She still couldn't hide her smile.
"I didn't realize I was "sneaking," he said indignantly, then looked over at her, seeing how the tee-shirt she was wearing was now translucent, sticking to her breasts and stomach like a second skin.
He knew he should get her something dry to put on, but couldn't seem to raise his gaze above her shoulders. The sight of her round breasts with rigid nipples sent a jolt through him. She seemed to realize what he was looking at as she suddenly covered herself by crossing her arms over her chest and her smile faded away.
"You're—you're getting the carpet all wet," she said quietly as she began to shiver.
He finally looked at her face, sensing that the air conditioning in the room was making her cold as it met with her wet clothes. He inhaled deeply, taking in the fresh, yet heavy scent of the rain; its earthiness adding to the sense of tenseness he was beginning to feel close in on him. He took a step toward her, his hand itching to reach out and cup the perfection he saw before him, but instead he grabbed a towel that he handed to her. He stood on the linoleum of the bathroom area as the water from his clothes pooled at his feet, and he watched as she held the towel in front of her chest and continued to look at him.
"You better put on some dry clothes."
He turned and looked at his own dry clothes that were in his duffel bag and pulled out a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt. His other clothes were filthy to the point of nearly standing up and walking away on their own. He ran his hand over his neck as he tried to think of a solution to his dilemma, finally turning around when he heard the splat of her tee-shirt and shorts being tossed past him into the sink. The sight of her only wearing a towel invited his inspection as he looked from her muddy feet up over her legs and body then to her huge chocolate eyes as she stared back at him.
"I—don't have any other clothes, except my dirty ones, and I'm not going to sleep in them—they're so stained and smelly, I'm probably going to end up throwing them away."
"Great," he breathed, then tossed his clean shirt to her. "Put this on. We'll make due until our other clothes dry."
He started to peel his tee-shirt over his head and dropped it into the sink with her clothing then dried the top part of himself with another towel. He noticed her move farther back in the bedroom so she couldn't be seen, so he peeled off his pants, dried his legs, then pulled on the jeans.
"Here," Sara moved to hand him the towel she had been wearing, then retrieved the wet clothes and gave them to him as he spread them over the shower curtain rod so they'd dry. "I don't suppose they have a Laundromat somewhere around here."
"Wait until the rain slows down, then I'll go ask the manager."
"I wonder how long that will be." She looked at the clock, then started into the sleeping area, but he noticed a slight limp. "I'll check the Weather Channel, maybe it'll say how long the storm should last."
"Sara?"
He entered the room behind her and turned on a brighter light as she turned on the television. He glanced at the screen as news of a severe thunderstorm warning and flash flood alert were announced.
"It doesn't sound like it's going to end anytime soon," Sara told him.
He moved closer to her as he looked down toward her feet that were now wiped clean of the mud, and he noticed the abrasion and already darkening bruise on her shin.
"Are you alright?" He asked as he took her arm and ushered her toward the chair by the windows.
"I'm fine," she told him.
"Sit down. You skinned your leg. I'll grab my kit and put some antibiotic on it."
He held onto her, although it wasn't necessary, as she lowered herself onto the seat, but when she hit the cushion, she jerked herself back onto her feet.
"Ouch! Damn!" She looked up at him with large eyes as her hand automatically went to the back of her leg, near her buttocks.
"What's wrong?" Without hesitation, he turned her around, but when he thoughtlessly tried to lift the shirt to inspect what the problem was, she held it in place and stepped away from him.
"I don't know—but it hurts." She looked at him again as her fingers gingerly touched the area in question. "It's—up close to my butt. It—feels big."
He smiled as he looked at her. "What feels big? Your butt? Or your injury?"
She gave him a "very-funny" look. "Both, actually. No, seriously, something's wrong."
He nodded his head in understanding, then moved her toward the bed. "Lie down. I'll keep you covered as best as I can."
Looking at him doubtfully, she finally did as he commanded and moved onto her stomach, still holding the tail of his shirt over her buttocks as she went down. He moved the shirt out of the way, seeing the problem that started about three inches onto the back of her thigh and traveled upward toward the roundness of her right cheek for about two and a half inches. At the sound of his groan, she turned her head to look at him.
"What is it?"
"You got a splinter when you slid off the porch—and yes, it's rather large."
"Can you pull it out?"
"It won't be easy—but at this point, I don't want to leave it in there. I take it, you're up to date on your tetanus."
"Yes," she said warily as she watched him go to his duffel bag and remove a first aid kit.
When he came back to her, he opened the kit and placed it on the bed. She watched from her position on her stomach as he cleaned some tweezers, opened a bee sting pad and removed what looked to be a scalpel. When her gaze moved to his face he gave her a reassuring smile.
"It's got to be the biggest one I ever removed from someone who wasn't lying on a slab in the morgue. I'm going to try to numb it with this swab, but it's going to hurt no matter what I do."
She nodded her head in understanding, then grabbed a pillow and pulled it down to hold onto. "Does this mean I'll be eligible for workman's comp?"
"I don't know that trying to retrieve a romance novel is considered "work" but I'll see what I can do." Even anticipating his touch, the cold swab meeting her thigh made her jerk in surprise. "Let me do it this way—I'm going to tape several swabs to the back of your leg, then I'll turn you over and bandage your shin. That should give us time for it to get as numb as possible, okay?"
Sara slowly nodded her head. He was amazed at the amount of trust she was showing in him. He wasn't sure he'd be able to lie in the same position and allow someone to practically do a minor surgery on him. It took several moments to get enough swabs together to satisfy him, then he pressed the tape to her, trying to touch as little of her as possible. Even without feeling the smoothness of her skin, the sight of the crease where buttocks met thigh was sending minor shockwaves through him that he wasn't expecting. He was removing a splinter, for Christ's sake! Nothing more! As she turned onto her back, she covered the area that drew his attention even though he tried to avoid it as he knelt at the end of the bed and prepared another bandage with antibiotic ointment, then gently pressed it over her bruised and torn shin. He nodded to her, to alert her that she should turn back onto her stomach, and after checking out his alternatives, he decided to put the equipment he would need on the bed next to her hip, and situate himself on the mattress as he straddled her calves
"Are—you expecting me to kick? Is that why you're sitting there?"
"I can reach it easier this way—and—yes, just in case you decide to kick, this should hold you down until I'm finished."
"O-okay."
He watched as she turned her head so that she was nearly facedown on the pillow and her hands grasped onto its edges with a force that made him happy it wasn't him that she was holding onto. He took a deep breath, then moved the tail of the shirt up, exposing half of a perfect bottom. He kept returning his gaze back to the job at hand, forcing himself to think of the piece of wood wedged into her skin, and not the way her thighs met and would fit him so well that if he chose to slide up behind her. . . Okay! He can't think of this right now. Instead, he removed the swabs that he had previously taped there. With another deep breath and a quick shake of his head, he picked up the tweezers and attached it to the very tip of the wood that was exposed. He wiggled it slightly and as he suspected, it was implanted so tightly that he would have to work it out.
He moved his fingers to the lower edge of the splinter and started pressing in hopes of squeezing it out of her, but the moment he thought it was going to start to give, the tip of the wood slipped out of his grasp.
"Son-of-a-bitch," he swore between grit teeth and glanced up to see her stiffen as she pressed herself farther into the pillow.
He picked up the scalpel and took it to the opening of her wound and slowly sliced at the damaged skin, releasing its hold on the foreign object enough for him to get a better grasp with the tweezers. This time when he started to pull, he kept a firm grip on the wood and continued pulling even with the force of her calves pressing up against him. She didn't cry, didn't scream or yell, but she did moan what almost sounded like a hum as she automatically lifted her buttocks in an attempt to move away from him. He put the scalpel down and used his free hand to press her back down and hold her firmly against the mattress until finally he held his trophy up to the light for his inspection. Jesus—it must be almost three inches long!
There was minimal bleeding as he pressed some gauze to it, then after a moment grabbed the bandage he had already prepared and put it over the wound. It was only then, that he took the time to look at the exposed flesh before him and after a moment of indecision, he flipped the shirt down over her again.
He swiftly got to his feet and picked up the remnants of his mini-surgery, then placed everything where it belonged before coming back the room to find her in nearly the same position she had been in when he left. She stayed on her stomach but her face was turned as she watched him, and even before he could say anything she tried to reassure him.
"I'm fine," she said a bit weaker than usual, bringing a tender smile to his lips as he moved closer to the bed and knelt along the side of it until he was facing her.
"I guess it wasn't so bad, was it?" He asked gently and she slowly shook her head negatively, then of its own volition, it took one or two nods to the affirmative. "Really?"
He couldn't hide the concern in his voice as his hand moved to her back and gently rubbed it in small circular strokes. She continued to watch him with those huge brown eyes and he felt himself getting lost in them. He wasn't aware of the trail his hand was taking until he noticed how her breath hitched and he felt the immense tightening in his jeans. A quick glance showed him that he had caught himself as he was stroking down, past the small of her back, just before coming in contact with the roundness he was in search of. He immediately got to his feet and moved to the other bed as he grabbed the remote control and sat against the headboard, pulling the other pillow onto his lap as he started flipping through the channels.