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“This’ll help.” Wes leaned over, grabbed a fresh packet of scrub gloves, and began to lightly cleanse her irritated skin. Closing her eyes helped to divert her mind and keep the anxiety away. The warm water pelted her skin. It was rhythmic enough to trick her brain into satisfying the itching.
She cried silently, the friction of Wes’ hands became her mental focus, and her breath hitched at the rough texture of the gloves he'd put on.
He rubbed her arms gently, scrubbing away any trace of irritant left on her skin. “Breathe, Mel. Focus on me. Breathe.”
With his eyes trained on Melody, Wes pulled his soggy shirt off and tossed it in the corner without a second glance.
He stroked her cheek with his thumb, soft circles as he rocked her under the stream. Mel was breathing in rapid bursts with an occasional cough as her lungs struggled to find their normal rhythm.
“Hey, Wes?" Noah's voice rang through the hollow of the showers. “You good? How’s Mel?”
“Good. Yeah, I got her." He stroked her hair, pulling it from her face and adjusting her on his lap. She was half-naked and vulnerable. Friends or not, she’d never want anyone from the group to see her like this. It wouldn’t happen under his watch.
“Do you need her pen?”
Wes looked down to gauge her breathing. It had returned to normal, signaling it was from anxiety more than the reaction to the unknown latex irritant she’d been exposed to.
“Nah, she’s okay. I think we caught it.” Wes heard steps outside the shower stall, his grip tightened to shield her if Noah came in.
It was Lexi who popped her head through the curtain. She eyed the situation, and he prepared to argue with his friend's wife over Melody’s care.
“I see.” With a nod, she set down some towels and one of the special aftercare blankets the club provided for the submissives.
“Thank you.”
Lexi turned, then retreated out of the stall and back to Noah. “C’mon, you don’t need to be in here. Let him do what he’s gonna do.” Lexi’s harsh whisper echoed in the showers. “Noah.” The rest of their conversation was too muted for him to hear; he only relaxed once the footsteps retreated and the door closed behind them.
“Wes,” Melody whispered.
“Hey there, kiddo. How are you feeling?”
“Not too itchy in some spots anymore.”
“And your anxiety?”
“Wes. Wes, it’s okay. I’m fine. You don’t have to take care of me.”
“Melody Marie.” His low growl had her immediately pressing her lips together in protest.
“You’ve other things to do than baby me. I can take care of myself.”
“Looks to me like you need a hand, little girl.”
“I’m not yours to take care of…”
“You aren’t,” he agreed—unwillingly. “But I’m going to take care of you tonight as long as you’ll let me.”
Her eyes shimmered, water clinging to her lashes. Even now she was beautiful, and he wanted to keep her as long as she’d let him, even if every bone was screaming that it wasn’t right.
That he wasn’t right for her.
“I’ll–” His hold tightened, and she halted her protest, then nodded in surrender. “Are you sure?”
“More than anything in my whole life.”
Reaching behind him, he pushed the lever to turn the water off, leaving them in the steam-filled stall.
“Whoever’s idea it was to put these in the showers for sensory play, I owe them.” Mel wiggled in Wes’ hold, giving her arms and shoulders more friction against his gloved hand.
