“As fun as that sounds, I’m afraid I’m going to have to pass,” Garrett said, placing the bottle back on the floor and grabbed the trash bag and got it ready.
“You would if you really loved me,” Kristen mumbled sadly only to add a sniffle when he reached for her shoes and-
“Owie,” she mumbled against the shower floor as he carefully removed her shoes and socks and placed them in the trash bag.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Garrett said, remembering his first day working for his Uncle Jared at Bradford Construction. He was fifteen years old, trying to save up for a car, and thinking that it was going to be like helping his father fix things around the house.
He’d been wrong.
So very fucking wrong.
For the first hour, his uncle had him working as a gofer, running back to the trucks to grab tools. The second hour, he had him sweeping floors and dragging a trash can around. The third hour, he had him moving cinderblocks and the fifth hour, he showed him the walls that needed to be brought down and handed him a sledgehammer. By the time he clocked out for the day, every muscle ached and by the time he went home, he was in fucking agony and just the thought of breathing hurt.
“Make it quick,” Kristen mumbled when he reached for her pants.
“Take a deep breath,” Garrett said, watching as she squeezed her eyes shut and pulled her pants down, revealing a pair of black panties.
He carefully worked them down her legs, wincing every time she muttered, “Owie,” until finally, he managed to pull them off and shoved them in the trash bag. Once he was done, he said, “This is going to hurt,” as he turned her over onto her back so that he could work the Bradford Construction tee-shirt that she’d already decided was hers off, leaving her in a matching bra and-
Aw, fuck...
-realized the flour somehow managed to seep through her clothes.
For a moment, Garrett knelt there, debating how he wanted to do this only to decide to treat this like a Band-Aid. Praying that she didn’t go for his balls after this, he stood up.
“Do you remember what happens to gluten when heat’s applied?” he asked as he watched the adorable woman, who was definitely going for his balls after this, frown as she opened her eyes.
“No?” Kristen said, watching as he reached for the cold water knob. “Wait. What are you doing?”
“It creates a paste,” Garrett said, turning the knob to full blast and-
“You sick bastard!”
“I’m no longer speakingwith you,” Kristen said as she finally managed to open the bathroom door. That was followed by biting back a wince, grabbing onto the door frame, and willing the muscles in her legs that were screaming in agony to cooperate as she shot the sick bastard the glare that she’d spent the past ten minutes practicing in the mirror.
“You want some help there, pookie?” Garrett Bradford, her one-time best friend, the only man that she’d ever loved, and the man that should be on his hands and knees begging for mercy after what he just put her through, asked, not bothering to look back at her as he searched through his nightstand, leaving her clutching onto the doorframe, willing the evil bastard to look back so that he could see just how pissed she really was.
“Oh, you mean like the way you helped me in the shower by spraying me with cold water for thirty minutes while you scrubbed my skin raw, ignoring my pleas for mercy, and giving me patronizing pats on the head anytime I whimpered? Is that the kind of help you meant?” Kristen demanded, only to wince and tighten her hold as much as her trembling hands would allow.
“More or less,” Garrett murmured absently while she held on for dear life as she moved her glare over him, refusing to relax her glare until he looked back, and found herself running her eyes over him, watching the way that the golden muscles in his back and arms moved before her gaze dropped to the gray sweatpants that he was wearing and nearly groaned.
He truly was evil, Kristen decided even as she stood there, taking her time running her eyes over him, deciding that she’d more than earned it.
Oh, had she earned it...
After he’d scrubbed the disturbing combination of expired flour, dust, and dirt off her body, he followed that up by grabbing the bottle of shampoo and conditioner and set to work on her hair while she’d been forced to lay there, squeezing her eyes shut and willing the bastard to move faster. Once he was done, he rinsed her off, set the water to lukewarm, tossed her a clean facecloth before he left her lying there, freezing her ass off.
It took her ten minutes and the prospect of smothering him with that facecloth before she was able to get on her knees and reach for the hot water knob. Five minutes after that, she finally managed to stop shivering and spent another ten minutes struggling to take off her bra and panties, two minutes to wrestle with the bottle of body wash, and another five minutes to finish washing herself before she was finally able to lay back down, close her eyes, and curl up into the fetal position.
That’s where she would have stayed, too, if she hadn’t run out of hot water sometime later and was forced to drag herself off the floor again. She didn’t even want to think about how long it took her to crawl out of the shower, dry herself off, and wrestle herself into another one of his shirts.
She-
“Oh, God...”
-may have overestimated her ability to hold onto the doorframe and glare at the same time.
Before she managed to fall on her ass, Garrett was there, sweeping her off her feet and carrying her to the bed. With a sniffle, Kristen said, “Bless you,” as he moved to place her on the bed and-
