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‘Hey!’ she gulped.
‘How did you get it on?’ he asked.
‘Sorry?’
He cocked an eyebrow at her.
‘How did you get the bra on? If you can’t get it off?’
‘I put it on forwards and turned it around.’ She flushed prettily. ‘But, like you said, I did a bit too much this morning and my muscles have already started to tighten up.’
‘So, do you need help with your briefs, or can you do that?’
‘They stay on. And you can hook my bra back on, too. Like a bikini, remember?’
‘Evie, I’m supposed to be here to help you. I’m a surgeon, and we’re both adults. I’m sure we can see this for what it is and control ourselves.’
Why did that sound like a challenge to himself?
Still, he’d always relished a challenge.
Deftly he slid the item from behind her towel and slung it into the wicker laundry basket without even turning round. The corners of her mouth twitched despite her nerves.
‘Fluke,’ she teased him unexpectedly.
He stuffed down the flare of attraction.
‘Entirely,’ he agreed. ‘Now, get in the shower.’
They were dancing dangerously close to the flames, he thought as he shed his own clothing, watching her silhouette through the steamed-up glass panel of the shower. He had no idea what he thought he was doing, agreeing to wash her hair like this, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself. The fact that his body was already reacting to the shadowy pink silhouette wasn’t filling him with hope, but he could hardly change his mind now. Stripping down to his boxers, Max dumped everything in the laun
dry basket, schooled his thoughts and picked up her shampoo and conditioner before stepping into the shower. An all too familiar, soft, perfect backside drew his gaze and his body tightened further. He was going to have to keep his distance.
Quickly, he stretched his arm around Evie to place the bottles on the marble-tiled alcove, making a conscious effort to avoid contact with her skin. Then, picking the shampoo bottle back up and squeezing out a generous amount for her long hair, he lathered it onto her scalp. As he worked his way through, he watched her place her fingers on the alcove to brace herself and gave a satisfied nod. She wasn’t as strong as she liked to make out; her body was still recovering and this shower would have been too much for her alone. With a renewed sense of vindication, Max concentrated on sectioning out her hair and shampooing.
Despite their wildly insatiable desire for each other last year, it was this simple activity that felt the most intimate to Max. Something that people having a basic fling would never do for each other. A quietly affectionate gesture, to wash her hair like this.
He rather liked it.
It was only when the first few strands began to come away that he realised what was happening. It wasn’t a lot, but temporary hair loss or breakage was one of the known side effects of some of the medications Evie was taking, until the nephrology team had chance to balance her doses. Max contemplated whether or not to mention it to her now. She would already be aware of the probability, but did she really need the added stress of it actually happening now? And to his mind, it didn’t make her any less attractive, or any less of a woman.
He finished shampooing her hair and gently leaned her to one side so that as he rinsed her hair the suds didn’t run down on the incision side of her body. Then he started all over again with the conditioner.
Finally, his task complete and his body reined in, Max reached for the tortoiseshell clip he knew she used, twisted her hair up and tied it back. It wasn’t exactly neat, but it would do, and it kept her hair from sweeping across her back and dripping any residual hair product near her wound.
His eyes swept over the smooth skin of her back, which his hands remembered so well.
‘Here.’ His voice was gruffer than he’d intended. ‘I’ll do your back since you can’t reach it.’
She froze momentarily before relinquishing the body puff to him. Swiftly, he soaped her shoulders and back then over her sides, taking care not to linger or to go too close to the wound. Eventually he felt Evie begin to relax. He worked his way downwards using circular movements, covering the backside that was causing his body such difficulties, and bending down to cover the backs of her legs.
There. Done. Give her the body puff back and stand up.
Slowly, almost against his own will, his hands reached up to her waist, his head in line with her hips as he angled her slightly towards him, ignoring her initial resistance, still using the body puff to lather the hip closest to him. He turned her more until his face was inches away from the apex of her thighs.
He could recall the way she tasted, the way she felt. His body tightened in response and he moved the body puff across her abdomen as if to remind himself of what he was supposed to be doing. He inched up, his eyes now level with her incision, her hand hovering over it as if to hide it from him.
‘Let me check it?’ Half-question, half-command.
