“What’s wrong?”
“They made it seem so much easier in the hospital.”
“What?”
“Getting my shirt off.” She huffed. “I don’t know if it’s because this shirt is too snug or my boobs are just too big. But I can’t for the life of me pull it over my head.”
I swallowed.Fuck me. Was she asking me to help her take her shirt off? Because, honestly, in all the ways I’d imagined taking her shirt off, this wasn’t one of them. I just had to hope my dick would respect the situation and behave accordingly.
Coming to stand in front of her, I helped her pull the collar of the shirt over her head. For someone who was in an accident and spent two days in the hospital, I was surprised to find she still smelled good. Her simple scent of vanilla diffused intothe space around us. My gaze skimmed over bare shoulders and down to where she held the shirt against her chest.
I cleared my throat and turned away from her. She didn’t need me ogling her. I was supposed to be her friend.
Just her fucking friend.
“You good?” My voice sounded husky even to my own ears.
“Um…” she began. “Yeah, I think so.”
Thank God. I took two steps toward the door before I froze when she hissed in pain. “Lyla?”
“I’m okay.” Frustration and a lack of confidence laced her words.
“Do you want my help?” I would suffer through whatever I needed to if she said yes.
“I’m just tired.” It almost sounded like she choked back a sob. “Do you mind?”
I spun slowly. The clean T-shirt sat in her lap, and she looked fucking gorgeous in just the nude-colored bra. Her tits, round and full, held my attention.
Get it together,I scolded myself, attempting to focus on the task at hand.
I picked up the T-shirt, and gently pushed the right sleeve up her arm and the neckline carefully over her head. She lifted her left arm up and pushed it through the other hole. My fingers skimmed down her sides as I pulled the material down, and I froze when I felt her shiver under my touch.
I glanced up at her, and for a brief moment I was sure desire flashed through her gaze. Stepping back, I cleared my throat.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
I nodded and turned back toward the door. “Good night, Lyla.”
“Night.”
I pulled the door shut behind me and adjusted myself. This was going to be a long couple of weeks if I couldn’t tamp down my attraction to her.
And why was that suddenly so hard to do?
Chapter Seven
LYLA
“Want me to braid your hair?”my mom asked as we left my room.
“Oh. Sure. That’d be nice.”
Thankfully, I needed minimal help getting dressed this time, but I did need help wrapping my wet curls in an old T-shirt. That was definitely hard to do one-handed. I was learning there were a lot of things that were difficult to do one-handed. But I wasn’t about to towel dry it and risk it getting super frizzy. The fabric of the T-shirt would mitigate that problem. Washing my body in the shower proved easier than I expected, but I needed a little bit of help from my mom with washing my hair. Thinking ahead, she’d stopped and gotten me a shower chair, which made the entire process so mucheasier.
I sat down in one of Adam’s dining chairs and my mom began removing the T-shirt. She was quiet as she separated and began braiding my hair. Finally, she asked, “So, you and Adam, huh?”
Based on the knowing look she’d sent me in the hospital when I said I would stay with Adam, I fully expected this conversation to come up at some point. I shook my head. “We’re just friends.”
