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After collecting the cotton balls from beneath the sink, Justin bent on one knee in front of her. He set the bowl of water and antiseptic on the floor. His gaze fell to Magee's crossed legs, and stayed there. Her heart raced. She wasn't certain, but she thought she heard him swallow a groan.
"Part for me," he murmured.
A jolt of carnal desire shot through Magee. She licked suddenly dry lips. "Wh-what?"
"The towel," Justin whispered, sounding a bit like he was choking. "Part ... the ... towel. So I can see the scrape."
Finger-combing her hair behind one ear to mask her jumping nerves, Magee extended her left leg inch by slow inch until her pointing toes nearly skimmed Justin's washboard stomach. The towel slipped open to reveal her upper thigh.
Justin's eyes gleamed with non-doctorly lust. "Very nice," he said, his voice low, husky, and tinged with appreciative amusement. "But, it just occurred to me, this sitting down won't work. You scraped yourself on the back of your leg, so I need you to stand ... or lean over ... or lie down."
His gaze rose to link with hers. And pulled her into their swirling blue depths.
Where Magee swam willingly.
Gladly.
Completely submerged.
"I vote for the lying down," she whispered.
