Trusting Love by Billi Jean

first.
    Before he had the bottle half gone, she walked back in, a bowl, medical supplies and towels in her arms. “I’ll need to lay these down first,” she murmured, so quietly he could just make out her words but he noticed the thick checkered blanket and the towels she carried to sop up his bloody mess, he assumed.
    He stood and helped her strip the bed and laid down the blanket she handed him, then the towels. When he had it over the entire mattress, he turned and faced her again.
    “That’s fine, just drink more of that and lie down for me.” She moved to the side table and he watched her carefully arrange medical equipment, some of it even looking familiar. The forceps and surgical needle in particular brought back memories of too many wounds dealt with by doctors.
    “That’s not vet equipment.”
    “No, it belonged to my uncle. This is his cabin. He was a doctor. Finish that if you can and lie down.”
    She kept her face away from him and her sentences short, her tone so low he didn’t know if the alcohol was messing with his hearing or if she was whispering. He took another long pull, surprised he’d reached the bottom.
    The room spun slowly and he registered even slower that she’d moved to sit beside where he’d parked himself. With a light pressure on his unhurt shoulder she indicated for him to lie down and he went easily. She bent over him to dab at his wound with antiseptic by the smell of it, but he wasn’t sure.
    Suddenly he didn’t care what she did. Her loose sweater top gaped open and gave him a view of her he’d ached to see for as long as he’d known her. He’d suffer ten more bullet wounds too, just to witness the perfection of her golden skin. Her breasts were small but on her petite frame they looked rounded and full. They bulged over the pink lacy bra she wore into two ripe globes he’d dreamed of exploring. They even jiggled a little as she worked and he barely stopped himself from sighing in admiration.
    Kristen was slim, petite really, and built more like a lean Scandinavian than a Latin pin-up girl.
    He wouldn’t have her any other way.
    She straightened and took his view away but replaced it with her sweet face. She had eyes he could get lost in. They were dark, so dark he had always wanted the chance to get close enough to see if there was any difference between her irises and her pupils. Now he noticed she had lighter striations, like chips of mocha mixed with the nearly black cocoa of her irises.
    Her lips were always so naturally pink against her golden complexion that the contrast entranced him now with ideas of kissing her until her lips glistened. He liked that she never wore much more than lip gloss, or once, he’d seen her wear a light pink that reminded him of cotton candy. Her dark lashes dropped and hid her eyes then she moved back with a soft sigh and sat next to him again. Some of her hair wasn’t black he noticed, frowning at the realisation.
    He’d never spent any amount of time close to her before, but he thought he knew everything there was to know about her beautiful body. But clearly he spotted warmer tones of red and brown mixed in with the darker jet black silky curtain of her long hair.
    “Are you ready?”
    Ready? He was primed, so hard he had to bend a leg to give his overeager erection room. What kind of man was he that as soon as he got near the one woman he’d always wanted, he couldn’t control his body or mind? But hell, Kristen would be wild. She used to smile so easily, so sweetly at anyone and anything. She found pleasure in life, and he knew that , on top of her Latin blood, would make sex with her into something he wouldn’t be able to live without . What would it be like to help her get the sparkle back in her dark eyes?
    If he slowed down, got his head on straight, he could show her there was a way to live beyond the pain. Couldn’t I?
    “Robert?”
    He blinked and stopped the direction of his thoughts. Dreams, more like it. What do