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“Just go, Belle. I can take care of myself from here.”
She huffed. “I’m not leaving you alone. You need help. You’re my patient and my friend. You said yourself you don’t have anyone to call at this hour, do you?”
She wanted to take care of him? The thought made his heart splinter. But his pride reared its ugly head, sending a new wave of anger. He was at his weakest, powerless and helpless. There was only one reason this woman would stick around—she pitied him.
His eyes snapped open. “I said to go. I don’t want you here. I can take care of myself!”
Belle’s features hardened under the soft light of the few candles placed around the room. Her hazelnut skin glowed as she stepped closer. “You’re human, Bently. Just because you need help, doesn’t make you less of a man.”
She’d fucking read his thoughts.
“We both know you won’t ask for help, so I’m volunteering so you don’t die in your sleep. You want to leave Jasmine and all your family alone because you were too damn stubborn to accept my assistance?”
“No,” he grumbled.
“I knew you were a smart guy. Now, tell me where your clean clothes are or I’ll start going through all of them,” she said gently but firmly, all at the same time. This woman was fierce—a force to behold. She challenged him alright.
“I just sleep in my boxers. Top drawer. But I want a shower—to wash off all this blood caked in my hair.”
Her eyes wavered only a moment before she nodded. “Okay, let me set everything up.”
She left him alone, and a few minutes later, water swished, flowing through the pipes. Belle came back and wordlessly pulled the end of the scrub top he’d been given at the hospital after the EMTs had to cut his off. He gingerly lifted his arms as she maneuvered the shirt over his head, taking care of his injuries.
She wrapped her arm around his good side as he draped his arm over her tiny body, helping him stand. They walked together to the bathroom as the steam rose.
“Stand here,” Belle said, pointing to the space right near the entrance to his walk-in shower. Shifting around him, she reached towards his pants button.
His hand shot out to hers. “Woah, just what in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
She let out a frustrated sigh. “You can barely stand. How else do you think you’re going to get in the shower?”
“Nah, darlin’. You ain’t seeing me naked like this.”
“Bently, I’m a nurse. I see naked bodies every day. It’s really no big deal.” She said it more like she was trying to convince herself. “Unless you’re too shy,” she teased.
“Fine, but boxers stay on.”
She smiled. “That’s what I was going to propose anyways.” She pulled down his pants as he stepped out of them, grinding his teeth together from the pain.
She tugged her top off and his mind short-circuited. Did concussions cause hallucinations? She reached for her scrub bottoms before guiding them quickly over her legs.
Fuck, that tiny body was perfect.
“W-what are you doing?” His voice sounded like he’d swallowed a bucket of gravel.
She looked up at him. “I can re-bandage your ribs after, but you can’t get your stitches wet. I’ll keep the wound site dry and wash your hair. You’ll need help to stand and not slip on your ass and make your head worse. And I don’t have any other clothes.”
It made sense, but not getting a boner when her half-naked body was wet and slick against his in the shower would be impossible.
“We’re both adults,” she said as if sensing his dilemma.
“That’s the problem.”
She smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
This woman was going to be the death of him. Since when did Bently Evans, playboy, ever turn down being naked with a sexy-ass woman? Never. He walked into the shower, her bare skin against his as he kept his balance.
“Sit down there so I can reach your hair.” She motioned to the plastic step stool he’d gotten for Lyra.
