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“MayI get out of bed now?”
“Dr. Olsen has expressly forbidden you moving about unless it is to see to your needs.”
Her one concession to Leo’s humiliation, after he’d found out it had been Georgina who saw to every aspect of his care. He’d assumed a faceless male servant had rendered aid while Leo was unconscious. Or as unappealing as it was, Cooke. But not so much as a nurse had been brought in.
No. Only Georgina, Lilian had assured him.
Lilian had taken to visiting him in the afternoons, keeping him company so that Georgina could rest. She read to him in her lovely, lilting voice, which, Leo informed her, didn’t sound at all like a wounded goose. Lilian was so pale and fragile after all that had happened. Leo imagined her a wisp or a fine piece of lace that had somehow taken human form. He worried for her.
Leo pushed himself up against the headboard. “I tell you I’m fine, Georgina. I need to walk about.”
“Yes, you mentioned you didn’t need help last week right after you pranced over to the washbasin and collapsed on the floor.”
“Pranced. Trotted. What am I? A bloody horse at Tattersalls?” He caught a glimpse of her hips through the simple muslin gown she wore. Her hair was pulled back into a thick braid flung over one shoulder. Tiny sprigs of gold curled about her temples and ears. If he didn’t know better, he’d think her a complete innocent. Fresh and dewy.
Like bloody spring.It wasnotthe soap.
“A week ago,” he grumbled. Horribly embarrassing. He’d fainted. Like a virgin on her wedding night. “But as you can see, Georgie, I’m feeling much better.” He stroked the twitching bulge beneath the sheet.
“Absolutely not.” She puffed at a stray curl that had fallen across one eye. “You’ll tear your stitches.”
“Lock the fucking door, Georgina.”
A bit of pink darkened her cheeks at his language. She shot a glance at his cock, growing larger by the moment, on her way to the door. But she obeyed, throwing the lock, and stood to regard him with her hands on her hips. “You are not to move. I will do everything.” She walked to the washbasin and dipped a clean cloth into the water.
“Well, that takes all the fun out of it.”
“You could use a bath anyway.”
“I’m not a helpless child.” His cock twitched again.
She pressed a long, luscious kiss to his lips. “I will be very angry,” she whispered against his mouth, “if your stitches open. You almost died.”
“But I didn’t.”
Slowly, she pulled the sheet down across his hips, tugging when the cotton caught on him. Taking the cloth, she moved it over his skin. She took a great deal of time making sure his nipples were clean before moving lower.
His stomach muscles jumped.
Careful to stay away from the bandage on his right side, Georgina ran the cloth over his ribs and across his hip. Gently cupping his balls, she pretended first to examine then clean him in a very suggestive way with the cloth.
A groan left him. “What are you doing?”
“I’m seeing to your needs, Leo.” She lay down next to him, dropping the cloth on his stomach.
“You’ve forgotten to clean the most important part.” His voice had grown uneven.
Her hand gently moved over his cock, fingertips exploring his length. Her thumb rubbed over the tip.
“Jesus.” Leo thought he might explode, and she’d barely touched him. He’d never be able to bathe again without thinking of this moment.
Her fingers curled around his cock, rubbing up and down his length with slow, even strokes, punctuated with a gentle squeeze. “Like this?”
“Yes.” The word came out in a moan. When she cupped his balls again, fondling them in her hand, Leo’s head fell back on the pillow.
“No moving,” she reminded him, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his stomach while stroking him.
“I promise, Georgie. Not a muscle.”
To Leo’s shame, he lasted approximately as long as a boy of fourteen. She muffled the sound of his release with a kiss, while her clever hands caressed him. As he lay there panting, Georgina took the cloth from his stomach and cleaned him off.
Leo grabbed her hand to keep her from leaving. “That might be the best bath I’ve had in some time.”
Georgina giggled. A lovely, musical sound. One he wanted to hear for the rest of his days.
She pulled the quilt over them both, molding herself to his side. A winter storm had started outside, bits of ice and snow hitting the window. The fire hissed as moisture dripped down the chimney. His fingers found her braid and loosened her hair so the mass of golden curls would spread across his chest.
“I love you, Georgie,” he whispered to her. “I love you.”
