AFTER NEVER (Charlotte's Story)

Chapter 21/93: Sweet, Sweet Chocolate!

Enjoy thus and munch some sweet choco ;)
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"Eh?"

I blinked for a few seconds.

"S-Sanitizing?" I echoed, carefully.

The Adam leaning before me regarded my injuries, coolly and coldly. His beautiful irises roamed over several parts of my body caressingly, and the latter suddenly felt hot. Burning hot under his gaze.

His features appeared to their best under the different spot lights in the car, and the shadows over his face showed each and every curve in his face sculpted professionally by the heavens.

He neared his hand – which had the scotch-stained cloth in it – further to my leg.

I shuddered, but then froze, as his left hand, which had another cloth wrapped around the injuries over it, moved to grab my right wrist, as he hardened his grip for a second.

"Stay still. It might sting a little."

My heart stopped beating for a second, but then remembered it had the mission of keeping me alive, so it went back to beating with double speed.

A flush crawled up against my cheeks, and I bit my lips, "I-I can do that myself, you kn─"

Too late, the scotch-stained cloth in his right hand came over the first wound, which was some centimeters above my ankle, and I jumped, as I whimpered.

"U-Unhh..." I bit my lip, trying to hold my voice back.

It stung. It hurt. And more than anything, it felt hotter than anything I've ever experienced.

Upon my whimper, his left hand on my wrist, flinched, and he let out a low breath.

He let go of my wrist, as his left hand moved to grab the inner side of my right leg, as if holding it in place as he pressed the cloth there.

I clutched over the seat under me with both my hands, and the pain felt like heartbeats; stinging and thumping with even frequency.

His right hand finally pulled the cloth away from the wound, and I inhaled a sharp breath, then released it directly, panting.

He put the washcloth away, in a small paper bag meant for trash, as he moved his hand towards a set of washcloths beside him as well, and pulled out another washcloth.

Holy, I never noticed him bringing the whole set, damn!

His left hand, which was still over the inside of my calf, moved upwards with agonizing slowness, and I shuddered under every touch.

I could feel his fingertips moving gently over my soft skin, and I couldn't stop the shivering crossing my body every second.

He fingers stopped centimeters below my knee, as they fixed my leg in its place, while his right hand placed the washcloth with the whiskey on it over the scrap below my knee.

I gasped, and groaned.

His grip over my calf stiffened for a second, but he commented not.

I could feel his heated gaze focused over the wound, as he moved the cloth carefully over and around it. His work was truly professional and neat, it seemed as if he's been doing that since forever.

"I...Ughh... I never... would have imagined you had knowledge... Ahh... About this!" I whispered, and I could feel my eyes becoming watery because of the waves of pain through his touch.

His jaw twitched, and something flashed in his orbs. I couldn't identify what it was because he was not looking into me.

His jaw moved for some minutes, until he finally let his torturous voice out: