“I just sleep in my boxers. Top drawer. But I want a shower—to wash off all this blood caked in my hair.”
Her eyes wavered only a moment before she nodded. “Okay, let me set everything up.”
She left him alone, and a few minutes later, water swished, flowing through the pipes. Belle came back and wordlessly pulled the end of the scrub top he’d been given at the hospital after the EMTs had to cut his off. He gingerly lifted his arms as she maneuvered the shirt over his head, taking care of his injuries.
She wrapped her arm around his good side as he draped his arm over her tiny body, helping him stand. They walked together to the bathroom as the steam rose.
“Stand here,” Belle said, pointing to the space right near the entrance to his walk-in shower. Shifting around him, she reached towards his pants button.
His hand shot out to hers. “Woah, just what in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
She let out a frustrated sigh. “You can barely stand. How else do you think you’re going to get in the shower?”
“Nah, darlin’. You ain’t seeing me naked like this.”
“Bently, I’m a nurse. I see naked bodies every day. It’s really no big deal.” She said it more like she was trying to convince herself. “Unless you’re too shy,” she teased.
“Fine, but boxers stay on.”
She smiled. “That’s what I was going to propose anyways.” She pulled down his pants as he stepped out of them, grinding his teeth together from the pain.
She tugged her top off and his mind short-circuited. Did concussions cause hallucinations? She reached for her scrub bottoms before guiding them quickly over her legs.
Fuck, that tiny body was perfect.
“W-what are you doing?” His voice sounded like he’d swallowed a bucket of gravel.
She looked up at him. “I can re-bandage your ribs after, but you can’t get your stitches wet. I’ll keep the wound site dry and wash your hair. You’ll need help to stand and not slip on your ass and make your head worse. And I don’t have any other clothes.”
It made sense, but not getting a boner when her half-naked body was wet and slick against his in the shower would be impossible.
“We’re both adults,” she said as if sensing his dilemma.
“That’s the problem.”
She smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
This woman was going to be the death of him. Since when did Bently Evans, playboy, ever turn down being naked with a sexy-ass woman? Never. He walked into the shower, her bare skin against his as he kept his balance.
“Sit down there so I can reach your hair.” She motioned to the plastic step stool he’d gotten for Lyra.
Careful not to pull on his ribs too much, he sat. The hot spray of the water reached his back. Belle stepped forward and closed the glass shower door, caging them in together. Steam rose, billowing upwards. A shiny sheen of water sparkled across the swell of her breasts. Two perfect curves peeked out over the thin, red lace bra. Her panties matched. He hadn’t seen the back yet, but fuck he was having a hard time thinking about anything else besides tearing them off her—fucked-up ribs and all.
Soft hands smoothed his hair away from the stitches. He bit back a moan. There was no way he was taking his eyes off her and wasting this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to memorize every shape and curve of Belle’s perfect body. As she caressed his scalp, washing out the blood, her breasts were front and center in his line of view. A hint of her dark brown nipples poked through the red lace. His cock was already hard. Just when he thought he couldn’t be in any more pain, this woman brought a new ache to his groin.
“I was really scared when I saw you in that hospital bed,” she said.
He swallowed, not knowing what to make of her confession.
“I’m fine.”
She reached farther, drawing his head down so close to her plump breasts, he could nearly taste her scent. He bit his tongue, reining it in so he wouldn’t do something stupid like lick her cleavage. Warm hands mixed with hot water, massaging the back of his neck. His cock turned hard as granite.
Blazing lust overpowered him. Want splintered his control. He reached his hands out and grabbed her hips hard, no doubt leaving a bruise.
She gasped, startled. His eyes met hers, hazy and vulnerable. A moment suspended in time as they stared into the portals of each other’s souls.
“Bently.” Her voice was breathy and wavering.
“Tell me you want this.” He smoothed his thumb over the lace, towards the juncture of her sex.
Her eyes drifted closed. She looked like a goddess, standing before him. Her tight little body could be the balm to his wounds. Fuck, he wanted her more than tomorrow’s sunrise. His fingers trailed to the middle of her thighs, teasing the top of the flimsy fabric. He’d bet his life she was soaking wet underneath.
“What I want and what I actually get are two very different things.”
Her words staggered him. Here he was, trying to steal a piece of her goodness like a thief. She wanted more than his body, but that was all he’d ever had to offer. If anyone in this world deserved happiness, it was Belle.
She lowered her gaze. “I’ll give you a few minutes. Don’t try to stand up without me.”
She turned and opened the door before quickly exiting, closing the glass wall between them. He looked at his hands. What could he do? There was one thing he was certain of—he was done with this back-and-forth dance between them. He was standing at a fork in the road. It was time to make a decision. He was either all in, or he’d
