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Lina
“Do you... um... do you want to shower?”
Knox asked the question with his eyes fixed on the wall, a faint flush creeping up his neck. This massive, muscular man who had commanded an entire room full of people was embarrassed about asking me if I wanted to bathe.
It was oddly endearing.
“Yes,” I said immediately, because the thought of washing off an entire month of hospital grime sounded absolutely heavenly. I probably smelled terrible. I definitely felt disgusting. And maybe, just maybe, a hot shower would help me feel more human.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed with newfound confidence after watching Knox interact with his friends andchildren all day. The fear from earlier had faded into a dull hum at the back of my mind. This man wasn’t dangerous. He was clearly devoted to me, clearly loved by the people around him, clearly a good father to our children. I still didn’t remember him, but I had stopped being terrified of him.
My feet hit the floor and I pushed myself up and immediately almost crumpled again because apparently my legs still hadn’t gotten the memo that we were awake now.
“Whoa, easy.” Knox was at my side in an instant, his arm wrapping around my waist to steady me. “Let me help you.”
I wanted to protest. I wanted to insist I could do this myself. But my legs were trembling with the effort of just standing, and the bathroom suddenly seemed very far away.
“Okay,” I agreed quietly.
He guided me across the room with a patience that made my chest ache. Each step was slow, deliberate, his body supporting most of my weight while still making me feel like I was walking on my own. His hand on my hip was warm through the thin hospital gown, and his chest pressed against my side was solid and reassuring.
And distracting. Very, very distracting.
I bit my lip as heat crept up my neck. What the hell was wrong with me? I had just woken up from a coma with no memories. I should be focused on recovering, on remembering, on figuring out my life. Not on how good this man smelled or how his muscles flexed under his shirt every time he adjusted his grip on me.
Yep. There was definitely a horny ghost possessing my body. Had to be.
We made it to the bathroom and Knox helped me sit on a small bench inside the shower stall. He turned on the water, adjusting the temperature until steam started to rise, and then there was this moment where neither of us knew what to do.
He was clearly trying not to look at me. His jaw was tight, his eyes fixed firmly on the shower head, his body radiating tension.
“I’ll just... turn around,” he said finally, his voice slightly strained. “Stay right here in case you need me.”
He positioned himself facing the door, his back to me, his shoulders a rigid line under his shirt.
I stripped off the hospital gown with trembling fingers and stepped under the spray.
The hot water hit my skin and I nearly moaned out loud. It felt incredible. A month of buildup washing away, swirling down the drain. I found soap and shampoo on a shelf and started the slow process of scrubbing myself clean.
I washed my teeth first with a toothbrush that had been left for me. Then my hair, working the shampoo through the tangled mess until it finally felt smooth again. Then my body, running the soap over skin that felt foreign and familiar at the same time.
Knox stayed perfectly still the entire time. Not turning, not peeking, not making any move that could be construed as inappropriate. Just standing there, guarding me, ready to help if I needed it.
Then the soap slipped from my fingers.
I watched it skitter across the shower floor and sighed. Of course. I bent down to retrieve it, my legs protesting the movement, and that’s when my feet decided to completely betray me.
One second I was reaching for the soap. The next I was falling, my treacherous legs sliding out from under me, my body pitching forward with nothing to grab onto.
“Auch!” I grunted as I hit the wet tile floor, my palms and knees taking the brunt of the impact.
Strong hands grabbed me before I could even process what had happened. Knox was there, hauling me upright, water spraying onto his clothes and face as he positioned himself under the shower head without hesitation.
“Are you okay, baby?” he asked, his voice rough with concern. His eyes were locked on my face with an intensity that told me he was fighting very hard to keep them there and nowhere else.
I was naked. Soaking wet. Pressed against his now drenched body. And he was looking at my face like it was the most beautiful thing in the world.
