Page 60 of Nothing to Fear

“Talk to me. How is it that you’re not squeamish about this?”

“During my checkups, I have to watch as they draw blood. Not seeing the needle sink into a vein is unbearable. When I was little, I had trouble with some types of physical sensations.”

He recalled reading about that in his research. “Sensory processing disorder?”

Her gaze flickered up to his, her mouth agape for an instant in surprise. “Uh, yeah.”

She lowered her eyes and pushed another staple in. He groaned through the pain.

“Touching certain things would make my skin crawl. My parents had me work with a therapist who put me through loads of tactile exercises like putting my hand in a box filled with sand or grains of rice and groping around for as long as possible.” Drawing in a deep breath, she shuddered. “I’d last a whopping thirty seconds. And it felt an eternity, screaming on the inside, wanting to rip off my skin.”

He stayed focused on her voice as she manipulated his gaping flesh. She worked quickly but with precision, and he gripped the table, refusing to flinch or make the slightest sound of weakness.

“Then the therapist had me accomplish something specific such as fishing out ten marbles from funny foam. Shifting the focus from time to completing a task changed everything. This daunting world crammed with insurmountable obstacles became something manageable.”

She depressed the last staple, and he hissed with relief.

“Attagirl. You showed no mercy.” Downright ruthless. Kind of twisted, but he liked that about her. A lot.

“It had to be done. Besides, I knew you could take it.”

Hot. Damn. He didn’t know if it was her smile, the way she’d bucked up to help him without getting jittery and squeamish, or how she didn’t apologize for torturing him, but what she’d said was so damn hot.

He ached to do the one thing he absolutely couldn’t.

Kiss her.

* * *

Willow was thankful Gideon had accepted her help.

Tough didn’t skim the surface of what he was. She’d wondered how he’d survived some of his missions, the ordeals he’d endured. Must be his high threshold for pain, combined with a rare quality most people lacked—mettle.

She finished cleaning around the wound, pressed a fresh dressing on, and used the last antiseptic wipe on her hands. His gaze landed on hers. Their eyes locked, and her belly fluttered, but she couldn’t tell whether he wanted to haul her closer or push her away.

“I would’ve guessed you had a delicate disposition, but your intestinal fortitude is a surprise.” He licked his lips, and she clenched her thighs. “I wish…things were different.”

Things was such a vague word. He meant more than this on-the-run-for-her-life situation, but she had no clue what.

“Thank you for doing the staples.”

“You’re welcome.”

Sitting back on her heels, she took him in. Really took him in. This was the first time she’d seen him practically naked. Two hundred and ten pounds of pure shredded muscle, with eight-pack abs—apparently that was a real thing.

After everything they’d just survived, what she needed most was to curl up against his warm, broad chest and sink into the security of his strong arms wrapped around her. To take comfort in his skin on hers and bask in his smell.

Oh, the smell of him.

She placed her hand on his knee and stroked his thigh. He snapped ramrod straight, nostrils flaring.

“Gideon—”

“We should get underway. We need to make it to the Atlantic.” His brusque tone had her sitting back on her heels away from him. “It’s not good to sit out in the open. We’re in a vulnerable position.”

“Of course.” What was she thinking?

She scrambled to her feet, gathered the gauze, and reached to take the towel across his lap.