Page 76

“Kids, clean up the mess from dinner. I’m going to make sure your dad’s all right getting himself washed then we’re going to watch that movie,” I call from the hallway that Heath went down minutes before.

“I don’t want to watch a scary movie,” Jenna calls out.

“Too bad,” Trevor counters.

“I’m the oldest, you two, so I get the say. Besides, I rented them.”

I hear Charlie end the argument with him pulling the ‘oldest’ card. It holds a lot of weight in our family. Charlie got to sit in the front because he’s the oldest. Charlie got to open presents first because he’s the oldest. Age earns you privileges in this household. Maybe I should pick the movie.

I stop at the door to our bedroom and take a deep breath before I push through. This isn’t the first time I’ve stepped foot in this room since I moved out, but it’s still like a punch to the gut every time I do. Visions of the night Heath walked out flutter through whenever I step foot in here. I’m not sure if it’s that night that I keep replaying because it’s the most recent, or if it’s because the bad times are easier to remember.

“Heath,” I utter as I tap gently on the door. “You okay in there?” I hear the water swoosh from the tub.

“Why can’t I take a shower?” he calls out.

“Because the doctor doesn’t want you to wet the incision quite yet.”

“Baths are for pansies,” he grumbles, and I can’t help but laugh.

Taking a chance, I push the door open and peak my head around. The scene before me makes me laugh even more. “I think what you mean to say was that bubble baths are for pansies.” There’s my big, manly husband, sitting in a tub full of purple bubbles up to his waist. Three white strips of tape run down the length of his chest.

“I wanted to see what the fuss is all about. If I have to suffer through a bath, then at least I can do it in style.” He swooshes his hands through the water, making the bubbles dance around.

I take another tentative step into the steam-filled room. The mirror is covered with condensation from the heat of the bath, the mist floating around the light bulbs. “You aren’t getting your incision wet, are you?” I pull the hair off the back of my neck with one hand while I pull at my shirt with another. It’s freaking hot in here.

“They’re not getting wet, thank you, Dr. Whitney.” He sinks down into the tub, closing his eyes.

“Did you grab a washcloth?” I go to the cupboard where I used to keep the extra towels. “They still here?” I ask over my shoulder.

Heath peels one eye open and looks at me. “Everything’s still where you left it.”

I nod and open the door. I grab a new towel and washcloth before turning around and heading back to the tub. I quickly glimpse at the water, and luckily Heath’s lower half is covered by the bubbles. “Keep your head against the tub and relax. I’m just going to grab the soap and start washing you.” I lean over Heath’s body to grab the bar when I feel the warm wet finger wrap around my arm.

“You don’t have to wash me, babe. I’m capable of doing it on my own.”

I twist my head to look at him. His eyes are slightly hooded, and I can tell he’s tired. I’m not sure if movie night’s going to happen tonight. He won’t make it through the opening credits.

“I know. I want to do it. Just lie back and relax.”

He drops his hand from my arm. The water is right below the bottom of his incision, and I make sure not to jostle it too much when I sink the cloth. “I’m going to start on your legs.” I place my hand under his leg and lift it so that his foot is firm on the bottom of the tub.

“This beats the wet wipe baths I’ve been giving myself.”

I never thought I’d have the smell of baby wipes floating in the air of the house again once Jenna was potty trained, but turns out the doctors recommend those to use after surgery when you still can’t bathe normally. “Yeah well, don’t get used to it. As soon as you’re cleared, your butt is standing in the shower.”

“Fine by me.”

I continue to work my way up one leg, getting further up toward his thigh. Biting my lip, I take the washcloth up and around towards the inner area. My eyes glance at Heath, but he’s still lying back, with his eyes closed. I can see he’s trying to hide his smile by keeping his face relaxed, but I know him, and I know what’s going on in his mind. Bringing the cloth back towards me, my knuckles brush soft skin, and I know it’s not his leg. He lets out a moan, making me stop my actions. Thinking it’s best that I pull away and start on the other leg, I make my move only to be stopped by Heath’s hand.

“Keep going. You’re fine,” he grits out.

“Um, Heath…” I notice the deep purplish coloring of his cock starting to poke out of the water. “Heath.”

He peels open his eyes. “Yeah.” His voice is throaty.

“You’re getting hard.”

“Your hand is near my dick, Whit. It’s going to get hard.”