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Yeah, I’m going to let that one slide for now. When I walk over to her, she tugs gently on the hem of my t-shirt. She pulls it up my chest, her fingers dragging across my skin. I don’t think she’s trying to turn me on, but she sure as hell is.
“Okay, hold up your good arm.”
I do, and she gently tugs the shirt over my head as I pull my arm out.
“Maybe I should have just cut it off to begin with?” Lily bites her lip and studies my arm.
“Try pulling it off. I like this shirt.”
“It’s all ripped.”
“It’s still good.”
“Okay, I’ll try, but if I see so much as a twinge, I’m cutting it off.”
“Deal.”
She uses both hands to stretch the arm hole out as much as she can and then slides it over my cast.
“And my shirt lives to fight another day,” I mutter with a laugh.
Lily’s hands go to my belt, and then I’m not thinking about t-shirts or anything else, except her fingers on my skin.
She undoes my belt, then my jeans, and slowly pushes them down my legs. As my jeans fall, she catches my belt buckle before it hits the floor and then motions for me to step out of them. She loosely folds them and tosses them on the bathroom counter.
“Almost done,” Lily says quietly as she tugs my boxer briefs down.
She doesn’t comment on my hard dick even when her face is right in front of it as I step out of my boxers.
“Are we ignoring the elephant in the room?”
“If by elephant, you mean your dick, then yes. You’re hurt, Jameson. We can’t have sex for a while.”
“How long is a while?”
“Hmmm, I don’t know. I probably need to ask Dr. Brooks. The after-care instructions didn’t cover sex.”
“If they didn’t cover it, that means sex is fine.”
“I don’t think so.”
Lily takes my good hand like I’m eighty, rests her other hand on my bare back, and walks me over to the tub. “Get in.”
She holds onto me as I step into the tub and sit down. Then she presses a stack of towels under my broken arm and positions my cast on more towels on top of a stool next to the tub.
As much as I like her taking care of me, I’m not sure I like her treating me like I’m going to break. I mean, technically, I did break my arm. But it’s fine. I’m fine.
“Okay, just relax.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Sit here and make sure you don’t fall asleep and drown.”
“Okay, babe, that’s it. I need you to stop treating me like I’m an old man. I broke my arm. That’s it. I’m fine. I’ll be good as new in six to eight weeks. Whenever I can get this cast off.”
“I know. You’re going to be fine,” she says, nodding like she’s trying to convince herself.
“I am. Trust me. You need to relax, Lemon. Go get yourself a glass of wine.”
