She pouts. It’s fucking adorable. ‘Making fun of me when I’ve just got out of hospital is low, even for you. I think that merits a few bath chores.’
I narrow my eyes at her. ‘What are bath chores when they’re at home?’
‘You know. Washing me. Maybe a little neck rub.’
‘The last thing you need right now is a dude with a hard-on up against your butt.’
‘You won’t be going anywhere near my bum. It’s so sore.’
‘Pity.’ I lean over and swipe some bubbles, decorating her shoulder with them. ‘So I guess that means anal’s off the table for a few days?’
Her face is fucking priceless. ‘I can’tbelieveyou just said that.’
‘Believe it, baby.’
‘Come on.’ She jerks her head. ‘Get in. The least you can do is strip for me. You owe me that much.’
‘Oh, really.’
I stand up.
I tug my sweater and shirt off over my head.
She stares at my pecs. My abs.
I unbutton my jeans.
Her gaze drops lower. She bites her bottom lip as if she’s trying to stop herself from smiling.
I drop my pants and my boxer briefs. I’m semi hard, just from seeing her in the bath. Just from the knowledge that she’s naked, under those bubbles. And the way she’s eye-fucking my body isn’t helping.
I jerk my thumb. ‘Quit looking at my dick and scoot forward so I can get in behind you.’
She giggles and obliges, and I get one leg in the tub, then another, and ease in behind her.
Pulling her back against me.
Settling her head on my shoulder.
Smoothing her hair off of her forehead.
Fuck, that feels good.
She wriggles against me. ‘You’re getting harder.’
‘And whose fault is that?’
‘I suppose it’s mine. Shit, I really wish I was open for business right now.’
‘Shh,’ I croon into her ear. ‘You let that body of yours rest, all right? I am so fucking happy to be here right now. I don’t need anything from you. You got that?’
She nods and murmurs in the affirmative, and as we lie there together, I enjoy both the heat seeping through my skin and the sense of wonder that we’ve got to this point, after everything that’s happened these past few days. Right at this moment, my girl is recovering. She’s doing okay, and she’s here in my arms. And I feel like we know each other a million times better than we did when we were actually dating.
Because we’ve let each other in.
I stroke some bubbles down her throat, over her collarbone.
‘Are you ready to tell me some more about your illness? I mean, I did some googling, but I want to understand it.’
