I crave it. Now that I’m moving around a little, my body screams for the familiar sting of a good stretch. Except I’m a little afraid to do them now. Movements I wouldn’t have thought might cause my injury some pain do, and now I’m afraid to breathe.
This sucks. I hope the guy who shot me is dead. Is that too much to ask?
Oxley returns from the hall and watches me for a minute. I look up, feeling exhausted. “The guy who shot me—has someone found him yet?”
He shakes his head. “They’re working on it. They have been identifying some people they’re associated with, but the person who shot you specifically hasn’t been identified.”
My shoulders fall.
“You’re safe,” Oxley says. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
His words comfort me. I nod. “That’s not why I’m asking. I’d like him to be shot. You know: the old eye for an eye rule.”
Oxley nods. “Understood.”
A yawn overcomes me. Without fail, I’m exhausted when Mark leaves. My eyes land on my crutches across the room, and a weight settles over me. Why couldn’t I have crashed closer to them?
“How about we try some motivation?” Oxley suggests.
I raise my eyebrow at him. “What does that mean?”
“If you walk across the room to me, I’ll give you an orgasm any way you want.”
Instantly, my body feels hot. I’m not convinced he wouldn’t do that anyway, but hearing the words out loud gives a little more of a thrill to the idea.
“Any way I want?” I repeat.
“Any way you want,” Oxley confirms.
“Think you can move a little closer?”
He smiles. “No. From there to here.”
“That’s the entire room,” I complain.
“I know. You can do it, Huntley.”
A bubble of doubt settles in my chest. “What if I can’t?” I whisper.
“You can,” Oxley insists. “You’re so much stronger than you’re giving yourself credit for.”
I shake my head. “I’m not. I complain about the pain all the time.”
“You still push through every exercise Mark gives you, painful or not. You haven’t once given up or quit. You can complain all you want, but that doesn’t stop you from pushing through.”
Guess I never looked at it that way. I get to my feet using only one leg, which has become easier. As I looked at myself in the mirror yesterday morning, I realized my legs were going to be two different sizes. Since I’m using one leg far more than the other, it’s going to be thick with muscle. The other is going to be nothing more than a chicken leg.
Taking a breath, I step forward, and the burn from my leg sears through me. By the time I’ve taken three steps and am in the middle of the room, I’m questioning how badly I actually want an orgasm. It’s not like I can’t just jerk myself. I’ve done it many times before. Too many to count.
“Come here, Huntley,” Oxley says. There’s something sexy about the low tone of his voice when he says my name. It shivers through me with anticipation, and despite the way my leg aches, my cock decides it’s already been too long since we’ve gotten attention and is beginning to perk up.
Gritting my teeth, I concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. Oxley lurches forward when I nearly fall over. I’m not sure what it was about that particular step, but the twinge of pain was intense, making my knee buckle.
Oxley catches me before I hit the ground. As soon as I catch my breath and balance, I shove him away. “Go back over there, Ox,” I demand.
“Oxley,” he corrects as he walks backwards, eyes never leaving me.
It took him two strides to return to where he’d been standing just inside the living room. It’ll take me five of these shuffling steps. For a minute, I take several breaths to psych myself up. I can do this.
