Sounding confident, I can’t help but believe him.
“And you? Outside of busted knuckles as a bruised cheek?” Lifting my hand, I cup his face and feel how warm he is. Must’ve taken a few hits, but he’s brushing them off like they’re nothing.
His eyes close, and he leans into my touch. “A few bruises at most. I’ll survive.”
He smells like blood. Badly. With how much is caked on him, I can only hope that those he fought got the worst end of the stick.
Packing up the kit, I leave it out in case anyone else needs it. Once my hands are free, I’m reaching for his wrist, not wanting to hurt him.
For such a brute, Judge easily follows where I pull him. Assuming I’m taking him to the room we’re sharing, he grunts when I take him to the showers instead.
The room is empty for once. My cheeks grow warm as I lead him over to one of the stalls, grabbing two towels in our way. Instead of letting him make his way into one by himself, I guide him inside and urge him to shut the curtain.
“What are we—” He chokes when I shove his jacket off. Peeling it down his arms, he grunts as I hang it up. He frowns down at me as I reach for his shirt next.
“You’re gross.” Not bothering to beat around the bush, I grimace at the way I have to peel the shirt away from his skin. “I… just want to get rid of all the evidence.”
More than that. After what he just went through, I want to offer him an escape he can get away from, even if it’s for a few minutes.
“I just wrapped your hands. Let me do this.” Clutching his shirt, I bite my lip. “Please.”
He doesn’t have it in him to put up a fight. Nodding his head, he helps me pull off his shirt. Revealing marks of purple and red against his chest, my next breath catches in my throat as I take in the bruises.
“They don’t hurt.” His bandaged hands distract me as he grabs at my shirt. Dragging it over my body, the cool air nips at my flushed skin. “Trust me, Pen. I’m fine.”
Hard to disagree with him when he doesn’t sound like he’s lying.
As warmth fills my body, I reach for his jeans. Hearing him groan under his breath, I take in the curve pressing against his zipper.
Yeah, he should be okay.
Holding my breath, I help him out of the rest of his clothes. I can’t be blamed for the way my eyes immediately lock onto his cock. Despite his injuries, there he is, swollen and thick.
Swallowing thickly, I feel a little better for feeling the twisting in my gut, too.
This is about cleaning him up, that’s all. Even if I really want to touch him,really, reallywant to touch him, I won’t. Tearing my eyes away, I can only hope I’m not drowning in my blush.
Stripping the rest of my clothes off, I’m pulling him closer to the shower. Once I have the water where it needs to be, I hear the soft hiss under his breath.
“Don’t get your hands dirty. Let me do everything.” Pinning him down with a look to push how serious I am about it, I watch his throat bob.
Lifting his hands, he keeps them away from the stream. “You don’t have to. I just want to make that clear.”
“I want to.” Terribly bad.
Letting him enjoy the heat the water provides, I grab some soap and lather up my hands before finally getting the chance to cave.
Ever so carefully, I start with his shoulders. It takes a stretch to reach all the way up there, but it gives me the excuse to brush up against him to coat his skin in the soap.
Dragging my hands down, I lighten my touch when I reach the scar on his chest. He doesn’t wince like I expect him to. “Does it hurt?”
He closes his eyes, inhaling slowly before shaking his head. “No. Not anymore.”
Amazed by his answer, I stare in wonder as he lets me touch him. Biting back my smile, I step a little closer so I can feel his body against mine.
“Pen…” Voice hoarse, he can’t hold back a groan from escaping him.
Spreading the suds along his chest, I wash away all the grime sticking to his skin. Carefully touching him, my fingers coast over bruises. No new stab wounds or bullet wounds, thank goodness.
