Once the jocks had driven off, Chloe checked Davis for a concussion with a penlight. Then she unzipped his sweatshirt and put her hands on his chest, fanning out from his heart. “Does that hurt?”
“No.” Davis watched the hand he’d punched Whitney with like it might disobey him. There was blood all over the back of it. He wiped his hand on a cornstalk. The skin over his knuckles was bruised white. He hid it in his pocket. No reason to worry Chloe anymore.
Chloe put her hands on his upper ribs, feeling him breathe. “Does that hurt?”
“No.”
She moved her hands lower, feeling the dark hairs of his stomach through his thin cotton T-shirt. “Now?”
“No.”
Her hands moved sideways, caressing his waist, slipping into his jean’s waistband. His own hands hovered between them, wanting to go to her, but he didn’t want to taint her light clothes with blood.
Chloe’s fingers pressed harder into his flesh. “Does that hurt?”
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Date: 2009-06-28 09:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-28 10:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-29 01:03 am (UTC)