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Cash’s heart squeezed at the naked vulnerability in Nick’s voice. “I’m not a doctor or healer.”
Nick patted the cushion next to him. His eyelids were at half-mast, and his face looked more relaxed than Cash had ever seen it. “Please. I want to lay my head in your lap.”
Lust struck like a lightning bolt, but Cash tamped it down. Nick was in no condition to consent to anything. Cash questioned if they should even have a conversation since Nick was obviously under the influence of his medication. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
A wicked smile stretched across Nick’s face. “I’ll behave. Please, Saint.”
Cash was powerless to resist. He sat down on the sofa and stayed still so Nick could position himself on his back. “Do you need to prop something under your shoulder?”
“Nah,” Nick said. “I didn’t break anything. Some teenager with a newly minted driver’s license ran a red light and plowed into the Uber I was riding in. My driver wasn’t injured, but his car was mangled to hell. The force of the collision drove my shoulder into the door and dislocated it. The doc reset it for me at the ER. They took an X-ray and performed an MRI. Nothing is broken or torn, just inflamed and sore. I gotta see a physical therapist.”
Cash carded his fingers through Nick’s hair without thinking about anything other than making him feel good. “Sounds painful.”
“I’ve had better times,” Nick said. “But it’s given me the excuse I needed to take some time off to heal other damaged things.”
Cash’s fingers stilled as he considered how to proceed. He was dying to know what Nick meant, but it didn’t feel right. He’d hold his question until the morning, but Nick seemed to be on a roll and didn’t want to stop.
“My head is fucked up.”
“Doubt it,” Cash said.
“No, seriously.” Nick rolled his head from side to side, shifting Cash’s fingers in his hair. “Keep petting.” That verb had a totally different connotation, but Cash gave in to Nick’s demands instead of arguing with him. “Damn, you’re pure magic. You did more for me in five seconds than my doctor or therapist have done in the past eight months.”
“What’s going on, Nicky?” Cash asked. Fuck propriety. He needed to know the truth.
“My cock is broken. Dead as a dinosaur.” Nick opened his eyes and stared at Cash. “But seeing you partially dressed and smiling gave me a little spark. First I’ve felt in eight months.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “My doctor did a complete workup from a physical exam to blood and hormone tests. Nothing wrong with my prostate or testosterone levels. Doc determined the problem was psychological. Apparently, depression or stress can cause these types of issues. He referred me to a therapist to sort out the lifestyle changes I needed to make.” Nick’s long eyelashes fluttered and their gazes locked again. “Keep those fingers moving.”
Cash hadn’t been aware he’d stopped. “Sorry.”
“I’ve been seeing a great therapist, and she helped me determine my problems stem from burnout instead of depression. Apparently, the symptoms are very similar, but antidepressants won’t help me. I have to figure out what changes I want to make to get my sex life back.” Nick sighed. “You know how much I love to fuck, Saint. The desire and drive are there, but I can’t reach it. Feels like this vital part of me is locked in a castle protected by dragons. I’ve never been so miserable in my life.”
“I’m so sorry, Nicky. What can I do to help?”
A mischievous smile briefly drove the drowsiness from his gaze. “Slay the dragon. Scale the walls.” A big yawn split his face, and he closed his eyes once more. “Maybe just keep touching me like this.”
And so Cash did long after Nick fell asleep. He couldn’t tear his gaze off the face he loved so much or stop caressing the silky strands of sandy brown hair. Nicky needed him, and Cash wouldn’t let him down.
Nick finally stirred sometime around midnight, and Cash guided him to the bedroom and helped him prepare for bed. He carefully eased Nick’s arm from the sling long enough to remove his shirt. Cash hesitated before reaching for Nick’s jeans once his arm was back in the sling.
“I got it,” Nick said. “The next time you strip off my pants, it will be for entirely different reasons.”
Cash held Nick’s denim-blue gaze and tried not to show how the words affected him. Once Nick stripped down to his underwear, Cash turned down the bedding so he could climb in.
“Christ,” Nick said. “These sheets are even softer than the ones at the penthouse. What’s the thread count?”
“Twelve hundred.”
Nick gave Cash a crooked smile. “Fucking diva.”
“And don’t you forget it.” Cash reached out and carded his fingers through Nick’s hair once more. The man practically purred like one of the ranch cats. “Need anything else before you go to sleep. A glass of water?”
“Maybe leave one on the bedside table in case I wake up in the middle of the night. I probably don’t need to go stumbling around in the dark until I learn the lay of the land.” Just how long had he planned to stay? But that was a question for the morning.
“I’ll get you a glass of water. Rest well, Nicky.”
He snagged Cash’s wrist before he could pull back. Nick brought Cash’s hand to his mouth and kissed his palm. “Thank you, Saint.”
Nick’s eyelids closed, and he was out like a light. Cash brushed the back of his fingers over Nick’s jawline. “Yes, Nicky. You’ve ruined me for other men too.”
