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The bathroom was full of steam and yet still felt cold. It was spotlessly clean like the rest of the house but needed a complete gut. All the fixtures had to be at least thirty years old. He easily found the antibiotic, cotton swabs and some Band-Aids. He placed them down then reached for her and lifted her up so she was sitting on the counter.

“Kent!” she protested.

He just gave her a look. If she started to talk about how she was too heavy for him to lift then he wasn’t going to be happy. She must have read that in his face because she pressed her lips together. He took gentle hold of her right hand. The shower had cleaned off a lot of the dirt, but there was still some embedded in her scrapes, so he set about carefully cleaning them off. She winced several times and he knew it had to be hurting, but her hand remained steady in his and she didn’t complain.

Brave little thing.

“Good girl, sweetheart. I know it doesn’t feel nice, but you are being so good for me.” He didn’t know where the words came from. Sure, he’d praised subs before for doing things they weren’t comfortable with. For letting him push them. For giving themselves wholly to him.

But never for something like this and never in that tone of voice.

He placed a large band-aid on the worst of the scrapes and took hold of her other hand. He started cleaning it up. “I know it hurts. Not too much longer.”

“There’s my knees too,” she whispered.

“What?”

“I scraped my knees when I landed.”

“All right, we’ll get to those as well.” When he finished both hands, he stepped back slightly to study her pajama pants. “You got panties on?”

“What?” She gaped at him.

He swore, he’d never had to repeat himself so much in his life. But he knew she’d had a hard night. Plus, he was pretty certain she wasn’t used to having a man in her house, invading her space, ordering her around.

“Do you have panties on?”

“Yes,” she said in a voice that implied he was crazy for suggesting she wouldn’t. His lips twitched. He’d rather expected that reaction.

“Good. Be easier to deal with your knees if you take your pajama pants off.” Before she could react, he lifted her off the bathroom counter. He stood back a little, waiting. Wasn’t really in his nature to wait. He was generally a man of action.

But she didn’t know him well and he was in her space, ordering her around.

So, he waited.

“Umm...ahh...I can’t take my pants off,” she said in a rush.

“Sweetheart, I promise you, all I am interested in is taking care of you and getting you into bed. Scout’s honor.” He held up his fingers.

She watched him suspiciously. “Were you ever a scout?”

“No, but I was a Navy SEAL, does that count?”

Her whole face softened. “Thank you for your service.”

Sweet as fucking pie.

“Take the pants off, sweet girl. Let’s take care of you and get you into bed.”

He figured it was a sign of just how tired she was that she just nodded and slipped off the worn pajamas. He got a glimpse of her panties. Pale pink with little rainbows on them.

Fucking adorable.

Shit. What was wrong with him? He was used to lacy, sexy lingerie. Since when did he think of underwear as adorable? He lifted her back up before he could think about his reaction to her too much. Then crouching, he stared at her knees. “Oh, sweetheart, these have to hurt.” They were red and the scrapes were angry looking.

“Every time I’m still for longer than five minutes, I seize up,” she admitted to him. “Funny how much more it hurts to fall as an adult than a kid. Shower helped a bit, but they’re still sore.”

He bet they were and she was going to feel even worse in the morning. He clenched his jaw against saying anything.