“You sure? How are you feeling?”
“Better. Like I’m not dying anymore.” His relief is visible and the grin he shoots my way threatens to undo me further. “Kind of achy, though.”
His eyebrows draw together and he lowers himself back to his knees. He places a hand on my forehead, as if this will tell him anything while I’m in a cool stream of water. Unsatisfied, he runs his fingers along my cheeks, down under my jawline, and flat against my chest. The ache increases.
“This definitely doesn’t help.” I shake my head with a laugh.
“What do you mean?”
I see him mentally checking off symptoms in his head and wonder when he had a chance to look them up. It only endears him further to me. Because, oh my god, how hot is it that I’m completely naked in front of him, dripping like somepornographic fantasy, and the only thing he has eyes for is my face. The only thing he cares about is my well-being.
“I’m horny for you,” I say as bluntly as possible. I rub a hand over my face, brushing water out of my eyes, and feel the heat creep up on my already flushed cheeks. “No one’s ever cared for me like this.”
For the first time since he brought me home today, his eyes dip down my body.
“Not that I think it’s a good idea to go there when you almost passed out on me,” Zander says. “But if you’re up for it…otherwise let me get some aloe on you and we can cuddle on your bed.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea, either. We’ll revisit later.”
He turns off the shower and extends a hand. I grab hold, and though I don’t really need it, I let him help me up and out of the tub. He folds a towel around me, rubs his hands along my sides, catching water droplets. I’m guided to the closed toilet seat, complete with a cover I crocheted. I sit and tip my head back into him. Into his soft touches. The ache in my lower belly shifts into a wave in my chest.
This. Man.
His fingers run through my hair and pool damp, red strands down my chest. Then, his lips ghost the flesh on my neck. My eyes flutter shut. Gingerly, he dabs at my burned shoulders with a second towel. He doesn’t linger, mindful of my winces. I feel the lack of his energy as he steps away to grab the aloe.
For a moment, I question whether I’m still loopy. The fact that I can sense him. That it feels like a loss when he’s not immediately next to me. I don’t know what that means. I can’t rationalize it or make some stupid joke of it.
It’s been just over two weeks.
Just over two weeks and he’s somehow seen me more than anyone ever has.
I don’t get it.
But all my thoughts cease as his cool hands land on my shoulders. I gasp as the aloe touches my skin, massaged in with strong, talented fingers. He continues his measured kneading, finishing up on my back and moving to my chest. His hands run along the edges of the sunburn, matching the scoop of my dress’s neckline from earlier today.
I glance up at him, peering through my lashes, and note the focus in his eyes. He doesn’t stop until he’s made sure my entire sunburn is covered. I grab his face and bring it the mere centimetres closer to mine, catching his lips. His hands drop to my sides, cradling me in place.
“Thank you,” I whisper when I pull back.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he says, squeezing me through the thick fabric of my bathroom towels. “Anyone should take care of you this way.”
“The point is thatyouare taking care of me this way. And I appreciate it.”
He kisses me again, this time caressing my cheek before pulling away. Unexpectedly, when he straightens, he strips the shirt off his back and offers it to me.
“Here,” he says, giving me the still-warm grey T-shirt, “this’ll probably be most comfy for you right now.”
I blink. “You literally just did the most gentlemanly thing you could have possibly done.”
“I think that was probably when I scooped you up at the festival.”
“Thatwasvery impressive. I’m tall and not perfectly fit. I would have at least expected some ouchie grunts.”
“The fuck is an ouchie grunt, Addie?”
I make a terrible impression of what I would sound like picking someone up. It winds up resembling angry sex noises. Ican’t keep a straight face and burst out laughing, Zander follows suit.
Once we’ve regained control of ourselves, I shove his shirt over my head and drop the towel. He has about five inches on me and the bulk from all his intensive activities. The shirt happily manages to be a minidress on me.
