“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m…bleeding. The welts,” I explained.
He stood and walked toward me, lifting the sheet himself, appraising the situation. Shaking his head, he cleared his throat. “I’m going to have to go out and get supplies today. Some first aid, ointment, gauze…” He was speaking aloud, but more to himself than me. “I can’t keep calling the lobby. I don’t mean to keep taxing the staff and there’s no need to bring attention to what’s happening.”
Trying not to scratch, I brought one of my hands under my hair on the nape of my neck and felt my temperature. It was normal to the touch, but my hair was a greasy mess.
“You can go. I’ll be fine. I need to shower. I don’t think a bath is good for me with all these open sores.”
“What? You cannot shower while I’m out.”
Thinking he was probably right, I didn’t say a word.
“You know what? I need a shower too. Let’s go.” He bent over, threw off the blankets, and scooped me up.
“Don—” I only semi protested because I really wanted to wash my hair.
“It’s not sexual… I mean, I’ve thought about it, but not right now,” he joked before setting me on my feet in front of the toilet.
“You’ve thought about it?”
That was what I was asking, while standing in the bathroom in a rumpled, bloody robe, covered in head-to-toe welts, my hair a literal rat’s nest and my face likely marred with sheet marks.
“Of course I’ve thought about it, Tulya. I’ve gone over a lot of scenarios of you in my head, and none of them are G-rated. But that’s for a different time. Now, use the bathroom and I’ll be back to shower.”
He left without any other pomp and circumstance, leaving me there to do my business.
When I was done, I held on to the wall and shimmied toward the shower, turning it on full blast.
“Wait for me,” echoed behind me, and I did.
In five billion years, I’d never dreamt of Donovan caring for me when I was sick. Yet here he was, slipping my robe off my shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. With nothing underneath, I stood there bruised and weak as he shoved his shorts and then boxer briefs down.
Taking my hand, he guided me under the stream of water, propping me up as I let it fall all over me.
“Feel good?” Donovan’s voice was strained as he held me with a strong arm.
“Mmm,” I answered, and it was delicious.
The rainfall showerhead was just the right amount of pressure. I leaned my head back and allowed my hair to get drenched as I felt Donovan bring a bar of soap to my skin, rubbing ever so gently. He washed me as I continued to let the water cascade over me. It was the most comfortable I’d been in two days.
Finally, I murmured, “Shampoo,” and while keeping me steady, Donovan began massaging some into my scalp.
We repeated the process with the conditioner, Donovan never stopping to take care of his own bathing needs…let alone, I couldn’t help but notice, he was half aroused.
When my eyes traveled there, he said, “I’m willing it to go away.”
Part of me didn’t want him to, but I was in no shape to do more than be held under a shower spray.
“Sit.” Donovan guided me to the bench in the shower once I was clean.
He made quick work of washing himself as I sat close to lifeless, the welts on my skin swelling to the surface again. I focused on the water raining over his six-pack, funneling through the vee and down into the area between his groin and thigh. I’d spent some time with my hand caressing that exact meeting point, and wondered if I wasn’t so sickly, if we’d ever do it again.
He did a fast tussle of his hair under the stream and shut off the water, demanding, “Stay still.”
He proceeded to hop out, wrap a towel around his waist, and snag one for me. He bundled me in the soft terry and guided me back to bed. I was walking but allowing my weight to fall into Donovan’s frame.
Seated on the side of the bed, I whispered, “I hate to ask, but can you get me my comb? It’s on the vanity.”
“Please stop. Tulya, Iwilldo whatever you need. Let me get you a fresh robe first. I didn’t wear mine. Looks like the bleeding stopped,” he noted.
