“Thanks for bringing him over,” Ryder said. “And for watching him.”
“Any time, you know that,” Mr. Stein said. “He was a good boy, but he missed you.” He nodded to the dog who cannon-balled into the pile of stuffies in front of the fireplace. He resurfaced with three toys shoved in his mouth.
I chuckled and started across the room to the stairs.
Ryder’s voice faded as I made my way up to our room, and through that to the bathroom. I turned on the shower, peeled out of my clothes, kicked them into the corner, and stepped under the spray.
I shivered at the gentle warmth, then closed my eyes, letting soft heat flow across my skin, erasing the bone-deep chill I hadn’t been able to shake.
A whoosh of cooler air stirred the steam in the room.
Over the sound of the spray, I heard Ryder. The click of his belt buckle, then, just like always, him realizing he’d have to take his boots off first, before he could take his pants off. He sat on the toilet lid, worked on his boots, heavy laces buzzing through metal grommets, then toed them off, shucking socks next.
I remembered he had one arm in a sling and slid the shower door to one side. “Need any help?” I asked.
He stared at me, his gaze warm and wanting. “You’re beautiful.”
I dragged my hand over my face to push away hair that was stuck in the side of my mouth. “Back atcha, gorgeous.”
He huffed and held out his good arm. “The shirt’s defeated me.”
“I’ll come to your rescue.”
I stepped out of the shower, leaving it running and enjoyed the flash of lust that flickered in his gaze. “My hero,” he breathed.
I unbuckled the sling and set it on the sink. Then I helped him get the T-shirt off his good arm and head and finally drew it carefully off his bad arm.
“Your bruises?” he asked.
“Better than your arm. Good,” I said. “Need help with the boxers?” I waggled my eyebrows, and he smiled.
“I got it.” He dug his thumb under his underwear waistband and pushed them down, working his good hand on either side until he could step out of them.
“I am absolutely filthy,” he said, looking at the dirt and slime and other unknown smears covering his body.
“Yeah?” I said, catching his good hand and drawing him into the shower with me. “Prove it.”
When we stumbled,weaving and exhausted into our bedroom, the fresh scent of the soap Ryder loved, and which I couldn’t get enough of, having washed us stinging and clean, I almost didn’t have enough left in me to pull back the covers.
“Shh,” Ryder said. He tugged down our quilt and blankets, then guided me into our soft sheets, onto our soft mattress.
Heaven. Nirvana. Ecstasy.
I felt the bed dip as Ryder got in on the other side. He shifted, trying to get his arm comfortable. It wasn’t in the sling, but I was too tired to fight him about it.
He made a final effort and turned on his side, facing me.
I inch-wormed over, tucking my knees against his thighs, and curling in closer, my head on the pillow he’d shoved his good arm under.
“I don’t want to hurt your arm,” I said.
“We’re good,” he mumbled.
“We lost the demon weapons.”
“Mmmm.”
“Xtelle might take a shot at the throne just to get out of paying her five-hundred dollar fine.”
