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I’m fucking impressed by how quickly she’s adapting to this life.

Letting go of her, I say, “I’m okay now. Go take a nice, long, hot bath.”

“What are you going to do?” she asks.

“I’ll shower. I want to keep the wounds dry as much as possible.”

“Then I’ll shower with you because you’re in no condition to wash yourself.”

I’ve never had anyone fuss over me, and I have to admit, I’m loving it. I’m also not giving up an opportunity to see her naked.

Laying it on thick, I say, “You’re right. It will probably take a few days, maybe weeks, before I’m at full capacity again.”

Annie leans forward and gives me a gentle kiss. “Don’t worry about a thing. It’s my turn to take care of you.”

I could get used to this.

When I move to get up, she darts to my side and slides her arm around me. “Lean on me.”

Cute.

I fake a groan as I get up, and when I see the worry tightening her features, I decide to tone it down. “Just feels good to move around.”

“Oh. I thought you were in pain.”

I let her help me to the bathroom and watch as she turns on the faucets.

Just then, I think about the food that’s being prepared for us, and turning around, I walk to the intercom on the wall and press the button. “We’ll have dinner in the lounge. Set a romantic mood. You can serve us once we’re out on the deck.”

“Yes, sir,” Javier replies. “Would you like a bottle of red wine with your dinner?”

“Yes.”

When I walk back to the bathroom, Annie’s eyebrow lifts. “You seem much better.”

Realizing my slipup, I brush my hand over my bruised ribs. “It’s not too bad.”

Finding it difficult straddling the line between having her fuss over me and not causing her unnecessary worry, I let go of the stupid plan.

Then Annie begins to take off her clothes, and even if the yacht had to sink right now, I wouldn’t be able to tear my eyes away from her.

I feast on every freckle she exposes to me, the perfect swells of her breasts, and the ginger curls between her thighs.

My perfect woman.

Annie comes to me, and with color creeping into her cheeks, she pushes the sweatpants down my legs.

“Who changed my clothes?” I ask.

“Me.”

A pleased sound, something between a purr and a growl, rumbles from me.

Her eyes dart to my face. “What?”

“I just love it when you take care of me.”

Steam begins to fill the bathroom, and stepping into the shower, I lean back against the tiles and let my eyes drift over my woman’s body, watching as the droplets hit her.