“Let me see.” He took me by the wrist gently and grabbed my waist to make me turn my back to him. He moved my wet hair over my left shoulder, exposing the wound, and for a moment I straightened sharply: I felt his warm fingers sliding the edge of the towel down beneath my shoulder blades, I’d say almost to the level of my kidneys. “Does it hurt much?”
“No. Well, a little because of the hot water, but it’s nothing.”
“Do you want more painkillers? You’ll sleep more peacefully that way.”
“It’s not necessary. I’m fine. Really,” I insisted, nervous.
“All right, I trust you,” he replied, with a slight growl.
That deep, guttural sound did something to my stomach.
Heat rose to my cheeks again when I recognized that bubbling in my insides and realized it was nerves—awful nerves. At that rate,
