Fleeting Moments(55)

“Is it still morning?” I croak.

“Yeah, but you slept an entire day and night away.”

“I did?” I gasp, shifting into a more relaxed position.

“Good painkillers.” He grins, pressing a kiss to my nose.

I vaguely recall the hospital trip. I got there, they set my arm which hurt like hell, cleaned up my gashes which thankfully, didn’t need stitches, and let me leave with some good medication. I fell asleep on the way here and this is the first time I’ve woken since then. I didn’t realize I’d slept so long. I shift uncomfortably, and my arm is letting off a dull ache, but it’s the gashes on my body that make it difficult to find a good positon. There seems to be one pressed down on no matter which way I want to lie.

“You’re in pain.”

I glance at Heath after shifting a few times. “Not so much,” I croak. “It’s just hard to get comfortable when there’s a gash on every part of my body.”

His eyes flash with regret, and he looks away. “You need a shower and some food. Come on, I’ll help you up.”

He slides out of the bed and I want to reach out to get his warm chest back, but I don’t. I push myself into a sitting position and stare down at my sore body. There are little red lines all over me, some deep and covered in bandages, others just light grazes. My wrist is heavily bandaged and slung against my chest. I’m a hot mess.

“I’ll have to help bathe you. You can’t get that arm wet.”

I smirk weakly. “You seem really distressed about that.”

He grins. “I am.”

He helps me up and we walk into the bathroom, where he runs the bath. I watch as he fills it with nice-smelling soaps. When it’s done, he slowly removes my bra and panties, his eyes growing lustier with every passing moment.

“How can you get turned on when I look like I’ve taken on a lion?”

He leans in, running his tongue over my neck. “Because you’re the most beautiful f*cking woman I’ve ever seen, injured or not.”

He scoops me into his arms and gently places me in the warm water. It stings, and I hiss through my teeth, closing my eyes for a few seconds while I wait for the pain to subside.

When it does, I glance at him again. He lifts a washcloth and gently runs it over my body. “Are you this nice to all your girlfriends?”

He pauses and his eyes flash to mine. “I don’t do girlfriends.”

I snort.

His face remains serious.

Oh.

“Wait, you’ve never had a girlfriend?”

“In high school, yeah.”

“I feel like I need to exit this bath and question you right now.”

His mouth tips up into a smile. “I’m not a creep; I just haven’t had time for relationships.”

“But . . . I mean . . . not even for a few weeks?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “I f*ck, maybe more than once. If that classes as a relationship, then sure.”

“You’re a dirty, dirty dog,” I tease.

He puts the washcloth between my legs, and I gasp.

“That I may be, but I do it well,” he murmurs, dragging it up my sex.

“Are you going to get me off with a cloth? Because that would be very weird,” I whisper, rotating my hips.

“It would appear you don’t want to stop me, considering you’re grinding against my hand.”

I look at him through my lashes. He lets the cloth go and replaces it with his fingers, sliding them up and down my sex, teasing and taunting.

“You could get in,” I offer breathily.

“You’re injured.”

“You have your hands between my legs,” I point out.

“It isn’t risking further injury,” he breathes, pinching my clit between his fingers. Pleasure quickly takes over some of the pain that has taken root in my sore body.

“It is because I want you in here, and I might try and fight for it.”

“You won’t win. Now lie still and let me work.”

I open my mouth to further argue but his finger slides into my sex. I gasp and my head drops back. I keep one arm slung out of the bath and hold on to the side with the other, thrusting my hips upwards so he can slide deeper. He slips another finger in, and I groan as I stretch and pull around him. Somehow he uses his thumb to keep stimulating my clit, and it feels amazing.

“I’ve never really been fingered,” I gasp, feeling sensations building in my core.

“What?” he says, eyes wide.

“My ex-husband didn’t really like it, so when he did it, I never came.”

“Fuck. Knew something was wrong with him. There’s nothing sweeter than a woman’s * when it tightens around your fingers. You can feel everything. It’s incredible.”

I arch my back has he drives his fingers deeper into my body. “Oh God,” I gasp.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” he growls.

“Yes,” I pant. “Yes.”

“Come for me, f*ck. Come.”

I do. I come hard and fast, clenching around his fingers, my body gently thrashes in the water. He f*cks me with his hand until every last tremor leaves my body, then he slowly pulls his hand away. “You’re beautiful,” he says, his voice raspy.