He grins, and I don’t miss the way he leans on me for support as I hook an arm around his waist. He’s solid, his body radiating warmth and a strong smell of—I gulp—trash.
Harris glances down at me. “You’re strong for someone your size.”
The moment we’re inside, I shut the door behind us and drop my keys on the counter.
“Bathroom,” I announce, already steering him in that direction.
He gives me a lazy grin. “Trying to get me naked already?”
“Trying to get youclean.”
I guide him down the hallway, push open my small bathroom door, flip on the light. Harris steps inside, glancing around as I cross my arms.
“Clothes off,” I order.
“Oooh.” His brows lift. “Daddy like.”
My eyes roll. “You reek to high heaven.”
Harris grins, pleased with himself. “Aw, come on, babe. You don’t find myEau de Garbagerugged? Manly?”
I make a face. “If you don’t get in that shower right now, I will drag your ass outside and hose you down for all the neighbors to see.” And byneighbors, I mean my parents, who—thank God—are not home at the moment.
He chuckles, reaching for the hem of his shirt. “Kinky.”
His grin is wobbly as he lifts his shirt, peeling it off in one slow motion. The fabric clings, damp and dirty, before he finally drops it onto the tiled floor.
I inhale through my nose, regret settling deep in my chest as I get a proper look at him.
His ribs are faintly bruised from the fall, a smudge of dirt streaking along his side. He’s favoring one leg slightly, and now that his adrenaline is fading, I canseethe stiffness in his movements. The way he exhales a little too hard, like breathing itself is painful.
I press my lips together.
“You’re hurt,” I murmur, stepping closer. I place a hand on his chest, feeling for his heartbeat. Playing doctor.
He stills instantly. I don’t know if it’s because of the touch or because heknowsI won’t buy whatever tough-guy nonsense he’s about to sell me. Either way, his smirk falters.
I exhale softly, smoothing my hand over his ribs, careful but searching. He tenses slightly under my touch.
“Does this hurt?” I ask quietly, pressing lightly over the faint bruising.
His jaw tics. “Not really.”
I look at him.
He sighs. “Okay, maybe a little.”
I shake my head, guilt curling in my stomach. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
His brow furrows. “Sure you should have. I scared the shit out of you.”
I frown, fingers still absently tracing his side. “Yeah, but now you’rehurt, and I feel like an ass.”
Harris chuckles, but it’s softer this time. “Sweetheart, you’re the opposite of an ass.”
I flush at his easy use of the endearment, then clear my throat, nudging him toward the shower. “Come on, big guy,” I say gently. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
He doesn’t argue, lets me guide him a step closer to the shower stall, body moving slow and careful. He reaches for his zipper, fumbling slightly, and I realize his hands are shaking.