“Why are you even here?” Snow asked, voice low and gritty like he’d ripped up his throat yelling. “My life is a fucking mess and I’ve done nothing but put you in danger.”
“Yeah, well, I think you need me. And I sure as hell am beginning to think I need you, too. So let me see.” He walked to him and lifted his hand, taking in the ragged cut across his palm. “What did you do? And what did I say before about your million-dollar hands?”
Snow smiled but there was so much self-depreciation in it, it came off as a grimace. “I knew I was good, but—”
“Shut up,” Jude muttered. “Yeah, yeah, you’re good with your hands and in a couple of minutes, I’ll show you I am too. Gonna clean this up first.”
“In a couple of minutes?” Snow’s eyebrow went up and some of that lost, broken look disappeared from his expression.
Jude’s heart warmed. “Yeah, you need a distraction. Bad. But first, what did you do?”
“Broke a glass.” He nodded toward the corner of the room where glass shards littered the floor. There was a dent in the drywall about Snow’s height. “Don’t worry. It’s not deep.”
“I can see that.” Jude walked him over to the corner sink and washed his own hands first. “I heard about what happened. This is going to be resolved so don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried. I’m pissed.” He held up his hand. Blood dripped down his wrist.
Their gazes locked, like they had the night before, and Jude swallowed the lump forming in his throat as need filled him. He shook his head then reached for Snow’s hand. He held it under the cool water, gently turning it, letting the water wash the blood away. “I don’t think you need stitches,” he murmured, running his finger up the inside of Snow’s wrist, loving the way his pulse picked up.
“Really, doctor?” Snow leaned in close, his warm breath brushing over Jude’s skin as he nuzzled Jude’s neck. “Are you sure?”
Jude growled, turned his head and pressed his lips to Snow’s. He sucked Snow’s bottom lip into his mouth and held onto it as heat speared into his groin. Before he could take the kiss deeper, Snow pulled back and one look at his blown pupils had Jude ready to ravage the man. He spotted a tub of first aid supplies on top of the filing cabinet and pulled Snow that direction. As he covered the wounds and bandaged them, Snow stared at him. Every time Jude glanced up, it was to see a mix of lust and confusion. And as he watched, the confusion seemed to take over the desire and morph into anger again. He didn’t want Snow thinking about his job, about the murder…any of it right then.
“So what’s with this temper of yours?” he asked, knowing it would rile him. Knowing also, that Snow riled raised his blood pressure in the best way.
“What fucking temper?” Snow snapped, snarl back in place.
Jude didn’t know what it was about that damn expression but this time, he didn’t let it pass. He finished wrapping Snow’s hand then put his hand on Snow’s chest and shoved him into the wall hard enough to rattle Snow’s framed diploma against the drywall.
“What the hell, Torres?” Snow shoved him back with his good hand, even as heat flared instantly in his expression.
Jude smirked, wrapped one hand around Snow’s throat and gently but firmly moved him back to the wall. “Keep your mouth shut, General. Not one word.” He put enough pressure on the man’s neck to let him know he meant it while he unbuttoned Snow’s pants just enough to slide his hand inside and wrap his fingers around that long, thick cock. “Looks like you need some kind of relief,” he murmured.
Snow’s mouth fell open slightly and he began to pant as his eyes locked on Jude’s. Jude had to wonder if the doctor had any idea of the level of lust and newfound trust in that look. Fuck, it tore him up and turned him on so much, he could barely keep from yelling and pounding his chest in triumph. Snow let out a breath that ghosted warm over Jude’s lips and Jude pressed his mouth to Snow’s. Snow groaned, opened wider and that wonderful, hot tongue came out to play.
The kiss grew deeper and wetter and the desire racing through Jude’s system was unlike anything he’d ever felt. He kept his hand on the doctor’s neck, knowing that small bit of dominance just flat out did it for Snow. The man pulled back, panting, his hips thrusting.
Jude tightened his fingers, grinned and let go long enough to grope for the antibiotic ointment on the file cabinet where he’d left it. Snow’s mouth fell open in shock this time when he squeezed most of the tube into his palm and carefully slid his hand back in Snow’s pants—making sure not to get any ointment on his slacks.