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“I know, but isolating yourself isn’t the answer.” I cup his face in my hands. “You need to start physical therapy, and you need to start living again. Wallow World is closed for business.”
He turns his head and presses his lips to my palm. “Thank you for being such a badass girlfriend and not letting me get away with this kind of shit.”
“I gave you a few days. You’ve reached maximum wallow allowance. You need to come over to my place and hang out and eat pizza. Your lounge chair misses you, and so do all your friends.”
“Okay.” He looks up at me.
I wrinkle my nose when I get a whiff of him. “I would love to kiss you, but your breath smells like stale Doritos, and you actually stink in general—like sweat and jockstrap.”
He chuckles. “I’m pretty gross.”
“Yeah, you really are. You needed a shower three days ago.” I take a step back and pull my shirt over my head. “It’ll be a lot easier if you have help, though. And I’m absolutely willing to assist.” I shove my yoga pants down my thighs and step out of them. “Does that sound like a good trade-off?”
He scrambles for his crutches. “That sounds like a fan-fucking-tastic trade-off. And like I’m the clear winner of this deal.”
I pull off my sports bra and let it fall to the floor, then slide my panties off and kick them in his direction. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
33 THE HAND IN THE DARK
BJ
Naked girlfriend is a great motivator. I manage, much to my surprise, to catch her panties before they hit the ground. They’re basic seamless ones in navy. I toss them on one of the many piles of clothes on the floor and navigate my way around them, following Winter into the bathroom.
She’s already turned the water on, and there’s one of those special folding chairs that I associate with the elderly set up just outside it. On the counter are the supplies I need for bathing. The wound has to be covered with a waterproof wrap and taped around my leg so it doesn’t get wet.
My erection is already at full mast. Taking care of my situation over the past week hasn’t been easy, or high on my priority list. But with Winter gloriously naked, her long dark hair hanging in a braid over her shoulder, looking like everything I need, my body is suddenly very aware and very excited. The tug around the injury isn’t as bad as it was a few days ago.
The first time I woke up with morning wood, I thought my leg was going to burst into flames, the pain was so blindingly awful. But it’s better now. Manageable.
“First things first. Brush your teeth, and then we can get you naked to wash the stink off.” She passes me my toothbrush and squirts some paste on it, then does the same for herself.
Once my mouth no longer tastes like a sewer, we tackle clothing removal.
She holds my crutches while I balance on my good leg and remove my shirt, then she passes them back so I don’t have to put all my weight on that leg for long. She tugs my joggers over my hips and kneels to carefully pull them down my legs. I’m not wearing underwear. They’re too much work to get on and off, and they rub on the injury.
She pats my erection, which is pointing straight at her. “I’ll take care of you as soon as you’ve been washed.” She looks up when my pants are around my ankles. “Do you want to sit down so I can get them off, or lift one foot and then the other?”
Sitting down and standing up is its own challenge. I’m already upright, so I might as well manage. “I can lift.”
We tackle the bad leg first, which is the easier of the two. Then I use my crutches to help take my weight for the other leg. Winter applies one of the patches to the wound site, tapes it down, and moves the chair into the shower. Then she helps me into it.
She uses the removable showerhead to wet my hair and lathers it up with shampoo, massaging my scalp.
“This feels damn well fantastic.”
“As long as you’re going to your classes, we can do it every day. Consider it a reward for good behavior.”
I grunt.
“We’re working out a schedule,” she informs me. “Laughlin will take you to your morning class on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and I can cover your Tuesday and Thursday afternoon class. When we’re done here, we’ll bring your schedule next door and make sure you’re covered for physical therapy as well. Your friends want to help, so let them.”
She rinses my hair and washes it a second time before she lathers up a body pouf and starts at my neck, rubbing slow circles on my skin. Suds drip down my chest and arms. She takes her time, going over the same spots more than once, lingering on the places that make me groan, kneading the muscles in my neck and back that are stiff and sore from so much lying around. She’s right. The only way forward is to start moving and stop feeling sorry for myself.
Eventually she comes to stand in front of me, drops to her knees, and starts working her way up my shins. I shift forward in the chair, parting my legs, anticipation building as she gets closer to my straining erection.
And then her soft, warm fingers circle the shaft. She squeezes gently and starts to stroke. I groan and soak her in, naked and gorgeous.
“Tell me if you need more pressure,” she murmurs.
