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Careful not to pull on his ribs too much, he sat. The hot spray of the water reached his back. Belle stepped forward and closed the glass shower door, caging them in together. Steam rose, billowing upwards. A shiny sheen of water sparkled across the swell of her breasts. Two perfect curves peeked out over the thin, red lace bra. Her panties matched. He hadn’t seen the back yet, but fuck he was having a hard time thinking about anything else besides tearing them off her—fucked-up ribs and all.
Soft hands smoothed his hair away from the stitches. He bit back a moan. There was no way he was taking his eyes off her and wasting this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to memorize every shape and curve of Belle’s perfect body. As she caressed his scalp, washing out the blood, her breasts were front and center in his line of view. A hint of her dark brown nipples poked through the red lace. His cock was already hard. Just when he thought he couldn’t be in any more pain, this woman brought a new ache to his groin.
“I was really scared when I saw you in that hospital bed,” she said.
He swallowed, not knowing what to make of her confession.
“I’m fine.”
She reached farther, drawing his head down so close to her plump breasts, he could nearly taste her scent. He bit his tongue, reining it in so he wouldn’t do something stupid like lick her cleavage. Warm hands mixed with hot water, massaging the back of his neck. His cock turned hard as granite.
Blazing lust overpowered him. Want splintered his control. He reached his hands out and grabbed her hips hard, no doubt leaving a bruise.
She gasped, startled. His eyes met hers, hazy and vulnerable. A moment suspended in time as they stared into the portals of each other’s souls.
“Bently.” Her voice was breathy and wavering.
“Tell me you want this.” He smoothed his thumb over the lace, towards the juncture of her sex.
Her eyes drifted closed. She looked like a goddess, standing before him. Her tight little body could be the balm to his wounds. Fuck, he wanted her more than tomorrow’s sunrise. His fingers trailed to the middle of her thighs, teasing the top of the flimsy fabric. He’d bet his life she was soaking wet underneath.
“What I want and what I actually get are two very different things.”
Her words staggered him. Here he was, trying to steal a piece of her goodness like a thief. She wanted more than his body, but that was all he’d ever had to offer. If anyone in this world deserved happiness, it was Belle.
She lowered her gaze. “I’ll give you a few minutes. Don’t try to stand up without me.”
She turned and opened the door before quickly exiting, closing the glass wall between them. He looked at his hands. What could he do? There was one thing he was certain of—he was done with this back-and-forth dance between them. He was standing at a fork in the road. It was time to make a decision. He was either all in, or he’d have to let her go.
Chapter 22
Bently
Bently carefully laid his head on the pillow as Belle pulled his soft, cool sheets over him. Belle walked around the room in one of his T-shirts, blowing out the few candles. The woman was so tiny it reached mid-thigh.
Is she wearing any panties?
She’d probably gotten hers wet in the shower. Seeing her in his clothes brought a new wave of possessiveness over him. He wanted her. Needed her. But was he willing to risk the pain that would eventually come with having a relationship? Could he make an exception for Belle?
Next, she pulled his curtains closed, eliminating the remaining light in the room. The squeak of his chair made his body stiffen. “What are you doing?”
“I’m getting comfortable in this chair,” she said deadpan.
“Don’t you need to get home to TJ?”
“He’s fine. I already texted him that I’d be gone until tomorrow.” She yawned sleepily. She’d worked all night. She had to be exhausted.
“I’m just going to sleep. I’ll be fine. You should go.”
She sighed, as if tired of having this argument. “Bently, we talked about this. You could vomit in your sleep and aspirate. Or a whole host of other complications could happen. You can’t be alone—not for forty-eight hours.”
“I appreciate your concern, but—”
“Look. I need sleep. So, if you could just shut up, I’d be very grateful.”
Damn this woman was something. “You’re going to sleep on that chair?” No fucking way.
“I have to be in the room. I won’t hear you if you need help otherwise.”
