A bubble of laughter sneaks up on me and I shake my head at his expression—the cocky raised brow and suggestive smile. I can’t deny I want to take care of him in many, many ways but he still needs to recuperate. Somehow, I’m going to have to control myself.
His sling cast aside, I ponder his black shirt. “I don’t know how to get that off without hurting you. How did you get it on in the first place?”
“I think I was pretty drugged up.”
Tentatively, I lift the hem and pray he doesn’t hear my intake of breath when my fingers connect with warm flesh. I strongly suspect I could have Hunter naked for hours and never tire of the sight. It feels so good to have him warm and vital in front of me. I can’t believe how close I came to losing him. Hopefully the cops will figure out what happened but for the moment I can’t bring myself to feel anything but grateful we’re alive.
I lift his T-shirt to his armpits and he tries to raise his arm but his face contorts with pain and I drop it.
“Damn.” He hisses.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. I guess the painkillers have worn off.”
“You’re not due anymore for another hour.”
“Rip it.”
“What?”
“Rip it off.” He chuckles when I blink at him. “The T-shirt?”
“Oh. You sure?”
“Yeah, it’s just a T-shirt.”
I reach for the hem again and tug, letting lose a sound of frustration when it doesn’t give. I try again and Hunter laughs.
“Don’t laugh. It’s not easy.”
With one hand, he directs mine to hold the bottom tight and he pulls hard. The top rips at the side seam and I can tear it apart.
“Show off.” I stick out my tongue as I yank at the sleeve and it tears there too. I fling the tattered fabric aside.
“Under any other circumstances, I’d be really enjoying this.”
“Oh really?” Finding the snap of his jeans, I pop it open and pull down the zipper. His arousal juts against his briefs. “Looks to me like you’re enjoying it already.”
“You can’t blame me. You just need to touch me and I’m hard and here you are stripping me off.”
“I don’t blame you, Hunter.” I say softly, unable to resist skimming my fingers down his stomach. “Just touching you turns me on too.”
He groans. “You’re not making this any easier.”
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
I don’t argue. He’s right. I can’t help enjoying this little bit of power. The man has so much over me, it’s nice to redress the balance.
Pulling down his jeans, I admire his strong legs as I tug the denim off. Then I stand and swallow, my hands coming to the waistband of his black underwear. Breath held, I remind myself I intended to take care of him, not lust over him. He’s spent so much time and energy looking after me, I need to repay him. My way of apologizing perhaps.
Gaze locked onto his, I pull his briefs away and down. Thankfully his hypnotic eyes capture me and prevent me from gawping as I push them down. He steps out of them, never looking away. My hands shake when I splay them across his chest, unable to resist. I need the warmth and vitality of him. I thought I’d lost that. His heart beating against my palm sends soothing spirals of heat through me.
“Get in.” My voice is hoarse from want but I’m determined to show him how much he means to me.
He dips his head in acquiescence. The old-fashioned gesture makes my heart squeeze. Hunter climbs into the bath and I can’t resist staring at his rear. The ridiculous notion of wanting to bite into it strikes. I skim my gaze up and watch the muscles across his back flex and pull. Tingles spread through me, straight to my sex, and I bite my lip.
He sinks into the bubbles and waits. I can’t tell if he’s teasing me or what but he seems to like me bossing him around.
“Lie back then,” I say, exasperation tingeing my voice. He’s not making it any easier and he knows it.
I grab a wash cloth and rub down his arms and across his chest. He gingerly lifts his sprained arm to allow me to clean the smell of hospital from him.
“Are you going to do my back?” he asks as I finishing wiping down his chest.
“Yes.”
“It would be a lot easier if you were in here with me.”
“I—” He’s right but there’s no way I’ll be able to control myself if I get in. And Hunter does not need me jumping all over him. He needs rest. Also I have to somehow prove to him how much I care. As great as the sex is, I can’t keep my head straight. How am I meant to show him I’m better than that when I all I want to do is ride him? Sex is easy. Feelings aren’t. But Hunter’s always been honest and accepting—with the exception of hiding his job, of course.
Now I’m over the sting of it, how can I hold a grudge? I kept far more from him—far more of myself from him—while he took it all. My sordid past, my need to keep myself closed off from others. He took it in his stride and responded with utter sincerity.
Which is more than can be said for me.
“Get in,” he says softly, snapping me from my thoughts.
“Hunter, you need to rest.”
“I can rest later. My back needs washing. Get in.”