Izzy’s cheeks turn pink. Her mouth opens and closes for a moment, eyes flicking subtly to mine before she shakes herhead. “That’s definitely not an issue.”
Doc runs through some more aftercare instructions, unhooks Iz from the monitors, and then he’s gone. He gives me a pointed look on his way out, one that says,“Look after her.”
Once it’s just the two of us—Izzy and me—I help her sit up from the pillows for the first time. She groans, her muscles unused to the movement after two weeks of lying in bed recovering.
“Can I have a shower?” she asks, sniffling slightly.
“Anything you want,” I reply, kissing her forehead gently.
She slowly swings her legs off the bed and moves to stand but her knees buckle as she does. I swoop an arm around her, keeping her upright.
She huffs out a breath.
“Maybe a bath instead?” I ask.
She nods.
“Stay here. I’ll get it ready.”
“You don’t—“
I cut her off. “Let me take care of you,Cuore mio.”
She lets me put her back onto the bed, then I head to the master bath. I never use the large clawfoot tub, but right now I’m grateful for it.
Running the water hot, I search for something to use as bubbles. An old bottle of bubble bath and some Epsom salt in my cabinet will have to do.
I set up candles around the room, and dip the lights to a low, soothing level. Just light enough to see.
When I get back to Izzy, her eyelids are drooping.
“Still want a bath?” I check.
She bobs her head, a small smile on her lips.
I scoop her up into my arms without thinking. She freezes, body going rigid and I curse myself. But then, she relaxes, snuggling into my chest and resting her head on my shoulder as her arms come round my neck. She winces as she does.
Carrying her into the bathroom I kick the door closed with my foot then gently place her down onto the counter.
“You want me to stay or go?”
She sucks in a breath, then says, “Will you stay?”
“Of course.”
I’d do anything she asked of me.
“Can you turn around until I’m in the bath?”
I don’t answer, just turn to face the door.
There’s some shuffling, the sound of splashing water. Then—
“Okay, you can turn back now.”
She’s got the bubbles covering her, but that doesn’t stop my brain from filling in the gaps.
I know what she looks like naked now, from tending to her these past few weeks. Know the way her breasts are barely a handful, but perfect for squeezing. That her nipples are dark and dusty in color. Know that her hips flare out from her tiny waist seductively. Know that her pussy has only a light smatter of hair.
