Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Harris chuckles, but it’s softer this time. “Sweetheart, you’re the opposite of an ass.”
I flush at his easy use of the endearment, then clear my throat, nudging him toward the shower. “Come on, big guy,” I say gently. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
He doesn’t argue, lets me guide him a step closer to the shower stall, body moving slow and careful. He reaches for his zipper, fumbling slightly, and I realize his hands are shaking.
I step forward to help. I undo the buckle carefully, then slide the button through the loop, my fingers brushing against his waist. Harris stays perfectly still, watching me, something unreadable in his gaze.
When I finally tug the zipper down, I murmur, “Can you handle the rest?”
His throat bobs. “Sure.”
I nod, stepping back and grabbing a towel. “Take it slow, okay? If anything hurts too much, I have ice packs.”
Harris tilts his head, smiling slightly. “Nurse Lucy. I like it.”
I turn to leave so he can have privacy, but before I can step out, a whimpering little murmur reaches my ears. “Wait.”
I pause, hand on the doorknob, bracing myself. Here we go.
“What if I fall?”
I stare at his bare chest. “Hmm?”
He gestures toward the shower, expression that screams earnest—and I am full of shit. “I’m injured, Lucy. What if I lose my balance? Slip? Hit my head?” He lets out a pitiful sigh. “You’d never forgive yourself.”
I gape at him. “You expect me to believe you suddenly lost your ability to stand upright?”
He is somber when he says “Tragic, I know.”
I watch as he presses a hand to his ribs, wincing—not enough to be concerning, but enough to guilt-trip me into oblivion.
“Nurse Lucy,” he whimpers. “Are you really going to make me suffer alone?”
Yes, I was planning on having him shower alone. I press my lips together, determined not to fall for his act. “You made it up my stairs fine. You’ll survive a five-minute rinse off.”
“Seriously? You would abandon me in my time of need?”
I glare. “Your time of need?”
He nods solemnly. “Vulnerable. Helpless. Soapy.”
I hate that a tiny, traitorous part of me is picturing it—me stepping into the shower, warm steam curling around us, his body pressed close, soap-slicked skin under my hands—
But then he shifts, his ribs clearly bothering him more than he wants to admit.
I exhale slowly. “Fine.”
His brows lift, clearly surprised. “Fine?”
I cross my arms tighter, forcing myself to remain calm—like this is a logical choice and not an emotionally reckless one. “I’ll help.”
Harris grins like he won the damn lottery. “Well, well, well. Looks like I am the favorite patient after all.”
“No screwing around. If you fall because you’re trying to get handsy, I won’t be able to lift you.”
“Oh, I’m definitely getting handsy,” he promises, stepping into the shower first, groaning as the hot water hits his skin. He braces a hand against the tile, rolling his shoulders under the spray, letting it soak into his muscles.
I should give him a moment of privacy—should not stare, should definitely not notice the way steam clings to the glass, blurring but not entirely concealing the way his silhouette moves.
But when I shift my eyes to his face, his gaze is on me.
Watching.
Waiting.
Through the fogged-up glass, Harris tilts his head, eyes dragging lazily over me like he has all the time in the world. He doesn’t speak—leans into the water, expression unreadable but unmistakably aware of my impending nakedness.
A slow prickle of heat creeps up my neck.
Tentatively, I reach for the hem of my shirt and tug it over my head in one smooth motion. His eyes track the movement, following the drop of fabric to the floor.
I try not to let this striptease affect me.
I try not to feel the weight of his attention, lingering, waiting as I unbutton my shorts and slide them down my legs.
But I do.
Chapter 20
Harris
This was not on my bingo card for the night.
Standing in Lucy’s shower, hot water sluicing down my back, I watch transfixed as she steps inside and makes room for herself—wet, naked. Yeah, I definitely didn’t see this coming . . .
I am absolutely not complaining.
Steam curls around us, thick and hazy. Every single inch of her is on display, dewy and slick from the water, her skin glowing under the dim bathroom light. I try to be subtle about it.
I fail.
Gorgeous tits? Check.
Rosy nipples? Check.
Slick, wet thighs? Check, check.
Water beads along her collarbone, slipping lower, trailing between her breasts before making its way down the dip of her stomach. I swallow, my throat dry, which makes no sense, considering I’m standing under running water.
Lucy doesn’t seem fazed by any of it. If she is, she’s doing a damn good job pretending otherwise. She reaches for the soap, movements slow and deliberate, lathering it between her palms before stepping closer.
Taking her sweet time.