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“I’d, um, really like to shower. If that’s okay.”
He stood. “Of course it is. Do you need help?”
I would like it, but wasn’t sure I’d need it. “I’ll be okay. I just have to wrap this.” I raised my left arm just slightly, which hurt like a son-of-a-bitch.
Cope nodded. “I’ll get your bag and…a bag.”
By the time I finished showering, the pain pill I took when I woke up had kicked in full force. I wasn’t sure how I’d managed to get undressed, but the reverse seemed impossible. I could probably get my panties on and maybe my pants, but it wouldn’t be easy. I sat down on the toilet seat and thought about my predicament.
“Everything okay in there?” Cope asked from the other side of the door a few minutes later.
“Um…” Gawd, this was so embarrassing.
“Ali?”
“I’m having trouble getting dressed.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I could feel the heat flush my cheeks.
“Can I help?”
It wasn’t as though the man hadn’t seen my boobs. In fact, last night, I’d wanted him to see a hell of a lot more than that. “If you wouldn’t mind.”
The door creaked open slowly, and he peeked around it. I remembered thinking he looked like he could be a politician when I first saw him at the courthouse. This morning, he was all Boy Scout with his closely-cropped, slicked-back hair and eager-to-please look in his eyes.
He picked up the black lace panties sitting near the sink. “Should we start with these?”
“Sure.” He knelt in front of me and untucked the towel covering most of my body.
“Lift for me.” With his help, I shimmied into my panties. His gaze rested on my puckered nipples, and when he leaned forward, I thought he might take one into his mouth. I hissed in a breath when, instead, he trapped one between the tips of two fingers. My head dropped back, and his mouth landed on my neck, the hard tip of his tongue swirling small circles up to the place right below my ear.
“Is this okay?” he murmured.
I answered by bringing his hand to my other breast. He leaned back, looked into my eyes, and dangled my bra from the tip of his finger that was no longer toying with my nipple.
“I’m not sure wearing this would be a good idea.”
“Okay,” I mumbled, wishing he’d put his hands and lips back on my body.
“I’ll be right back.” He stood and walked out of the bathroom. I’d stand too and follow him, but my legs were shaking. When he came back, he had a sweatshirt in his hand. “This will swim on you, but it’ll be easier to get over your cast.”
He put it over my head and stretched the arm out until my broken one was covered.
“Just one more…” he said, and I held my right arm out to him. Instead of putting the sweatshirt on it, he captured my nipple between his teeth. His tongue swirled around and around it until I cried out. Cope released it with a pop. “I needed another taste.” He put the sweatshirt over my head and pulled it down so it covered my body. “Anything else I can help with?” he asked, standing. He walked out without waiting for my answer.
“Look at you,” he said when I walked into the kitchen and he looked up from his computer. “Feel better?”
“Not really.”
He smirked. “What can I get you? Coffee?”
“Bucketloads if you have it.”
He handed me a cup with cream, no sugar. “Hungry?”
“Famished.”
He opened the refrigerator and leaned over to look inside, giving me a perfect view of the way his jeans stretched over his tight ass. The muscles of his arm holding the door open, flexed.
“What do you bench press?” I asked.
