“I’m gross and I smell funny. I need a shower.”
“I’ll get a cloth and?—”
“That’s never going to happen, Ox,” I insist. “I’m taking a shower!”
He does exactly what I expect he will… pulls his phone out and calls Mark. “He wants to take a shower,” Oxley says with rattled exasperation. “He refuses to let me wash him with a cloth!”
I watch his face as Mark obviously talks him down. I can see the tension leaving and how clearly he’s paying attention. “But I—” A long pause. “No.” An even longer pause. “Yes.” Then he hands me the phone.
“I’m taking a shower,” I tell Mark when I put the phone to my ear. “Even though I can’t get this wet, I’m seriously gross. I think I’m growing mushrooms. And I desperately need a shave!”
He chuckles quietly. “Yes, you can take a shower, but let him wrap your leg first. Remember what I said about pain, so please let him help you move around. When you’re done, he’s going to take the bandages off and send me a video so I can assess your healing progress. We’ll talk again then.”
I sigh. “Thanks.”
“Be patient with him. Oxley means well, but he’s in completely uncharted waters and doesn’t really know what he’s doing.” My eyes raise to Oxley’s. He’s watching me intently. I have a feeling Mark isn’t just referring to medically. For some reason, it makes my breath catch. “He’s trying,” Mark says.
“I know.”
“Go take a shower. I expect a call in an hour.”
I hand the phone back to Oxley and wait. He listens to Mark again, and I can see him obsessively committing the doctor’s words to memory. When he hangs up, he says he’ll be right back.
Not going to lie, I’m really fucking curious to know what Mark said to him and where he’s gone. My wait isn’t long before Oxleyis back with a strange combination of items. He sets them on the edge of the bed next to me and disappears into the bathroom for a minute. Then he’s back.
Moving his desk chair in front of me, I watch as Oxley carefully, and so fucking gently, wraps my bandages in plastic wrap. His hands on my leg make me blush. I didn’t think my wound was close to my dick, but the way his hands move over me, it’s a lot closer than I initially thought.
He secures the plastic wrap to my skin with medical tape. Then he wraps the whole thing with a hand towel and once more with a plastic trash bag, which he holds in place with duct tape and then to my skin with two-inch thick medical tape.
Oxley’s frowning at it, but finally looks at me. “One more second.”
I nod as he leaves the bedroom again. This time, it’s longer before he returns, and this time has a bagged chair in his hands. The kind that you take camping or to a sports game. He heads into the bathroom with it, and a moment later, I hear the shower turn on.
Finally, Oxley returns and holds his hands out to me. I’m a little shy as I place mine in his. Probably because I still feel his fingers softly moving over my skin. When I’m on my feet, my entire weight on one leg, he picks me up, ever mindful of everything about me.
I’ve been disconnected from the liquid drip for a day now, so we don’t have to wheel that in. This means the monitor is gone too, which I don’t think Oxley likes since he can’t watch my heart rate and oxygen levels. He’s constantly frowning at it—turned off and still sitting next to the bed—as if it’s failing to do its job.
He brings me into the bathroom, and I find the bag chair in the shower. Not quite under the water and positioned in a waywhere I can sit and let my leg stretch without it being directly under the spray. I thought he’d brought it there for him, so I’m touched to see that he did it for me. I’m not even going to examine why I feel choked up over it.
Oxley sets me on my feet. I steel myself for some uncomfortable moments, both physically and emotionally, because I’m not going to ask him to leave. Being very cognizant of what Mark told me about my pain and knowing that this is going to be a challenge, especially on my own, I may need him close. Which means I’m going to be completely exposed to this man.
Taking a deep breath, I pull the shirt that’s not mine over my head and drop it on the floor. Which leaves me in my underwear. I don’t cringe at all, knowing I’ve been wearing them for a horribly long time now. These arenotgoing back on my body.
Getting into the shower proves a little challenging, as I try not to put too much weight on my leg. His hands are gentle on my skin but firm as he helps to bear my weight while I step into the shower. My cheeks burn. Hell, I think the rest of me burns, too. I’m not even going to say what my dick thinks of this.
The water feels good. For a minute, I do nothing but stand under it and can almost feel the grime peeling from my body. When Oxley shuffles behind me, I know his anxiety over my leg getting wet is increasing, so I grudgingly move to washing my hair. Twice. Then my body.
This was not nearly long enough, but I finally turn off the water and grip the side of the shower. How the hell am I going to turn around without slipping and cracking my head open?
Looking over my shoulder, I find Oxley right where I left him, hovering at the opening of the shower. “Please help me?” I ask quietly.
He steps in, a hand under my elbow. He’s all business for a minute as he guides me to the opening in the shower. Now that I’m facing the right direction to get out, I feel much better about this. That is, until I find that Oxley’s staring at me. His face flushed, and heat in his eyes. I suck in a breath, my dickdefinitelyliking this attention.
His hands move down my arms, raising gooseflesh in their wake, and land on my hips. Before my eyes, he drops to his knees and presses his face into my stomach. My hands tangle in his hair. “Ox,” I whisper.
Anything else I might have said is choked off when his mouth closes over my cock, and I groan, my head falling forward. God, yes. Why does he have to be so good at this already? My eyes flutter closed as I hold him in place.
6
