“Yes. I’m stronger than I look,” she told him defensively. Okay . . . maybe she couldn’t hold him up, but she could make his trip to the ground less painful.
“Not that I’m complaining, mind you. Feel free to get as close as you want to get,” he told her playfully as he moved slowly toward the stairs.
Emily walked him up the staircase, staying close to him because she needed to be there. She followed him to his bedroom, ready to put him into the enormous bed that looked incredibly inviting.
“Bed,” she insisted.
“Shower,” he said gruffly. “Are you planning to come with me? I could fall and hit my head. Or I might get dizzy.”
She had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. She had no doubt Grady was in pain, but he was playing this for all it was worth. “I’ll wait outside the door.”
“But what if I need you?” he argued with a weak but wicked grin.
“I’ll be close,” she said sternly, her hands lifting to start unbuttoning his shirt, knowing the motion to do it himself would be painful for him.
“Not close enough,” he said hoarsely. “It’s going to take me a while to get the image of that asshole pointing a gun at your head to go away.”
Unfastening the last button, she opened his shirt and had to force herself not to gape at the mouthwatering sight of his bare chest and ripped abdomen; his smooth, warm skin stretched over sculpted muscle had her struggling not to salivate.
I need to be clinical. I have to help him. Grady needs me.
She slipped the shirt over his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. “Um . . . can you handle it from here?” She gulped, looking at the jeans sitting low on his hips, and the fine trail of hair that ran down into the waistband of his jeans. The man had a body that would tempt a saint, and she certainly wasn’t that angelic.
“Nope. Movement hurts. You’ll have to do it,” he said, deadpan.
Her eyes shot to his face. His expression was stoic, but his eyes were pure wicked heat. Her nipples hardened, and fire slithered from her belly and came to rest between her thighs. Even injured, Grady Sinclair was all masculine temptation for her, an alluring mix of demanding male and boyish mischief who had her wondering if she should laugh or be completely mortified.
“Grady,” she warned, licking her parched lips as she looked up at him.
“I need your help, Emily. Please.”
She couldn’t deny him, and to be honest, she couldn’t resist the opportunity to touch him. Her hands were trembling as she reached for the button of his jeans, grateful that there was only one button with a zipper. Honestly, she knew this task would hurt him, the movement required to shower probably excruciating. The arm movements required would pull at his sutures, and the last thing she wanted was for him to reinjure himself. He might be challenging her, but she was knee-deep in this task because she couldn’t stand to cause him another moment of pain.
Her decision made, she pushed him toward the master bath that she had seen as they entered the bedroom. His face flashed a moment of surprise and great deal of longing as he moved obediently.
Once in the bathroom, she lowered the zipper down on his jeans, unable to keep from noticing that she had to work around a very large and hard appendage as she started pulling them down and off his hips, taking a pair of silky boxers along with the pants. “You’re going to let me do all the work. You stand there and let me help you,” she demanded as she motioned for him to step out of his pants now that they were down to his knees.
Before she could think about it and change her mind, she whipped her sweatshirt over her head and let it fall to the floor. Her jeans followed, leaving her feeling completely exposed in only a skimpy bra and panties. After seeing his body, she tried not to fidget with discomfort as she felt his gaze on her. She was body conscious and not particularly fond of parading around almost nude. But right now, her insecurities weren’t as important as Grady.
The shower was fancy, and she had to fiddle with the various controls to get the settings correct, but she managed. Holding open the door of the enclosure, she motioned to a naked Grady. “Get in.” His wound was already covered in a protective waterproof bandage, but she’d have to be careful.
He didn’t move, his eyes roaming over her body and filled with desire. “God, you’re so beautiful it hurts to look at you.”
Emily reached up, pulled the clip from her hair, and let the locks fall haphazardly to her shoulders.
She heard Grady groan, and she knew it wasn’t from pain. He really did find her attractive and nearly irresistible. Feminine power surged through her body, her insecurities falling away as she looked at his fierce eyes caressing her body like she was the only woman alive. And, God, it was intoxicating.
“Get in the shower, Grady,” she told him forcefully, knowing she needed a moment to get her thoughts together. “I have to take out my contacts.”
It was the break she needed. She dashed down the staircase in her underwear and grabbed her suitcase, bringing it back upstairs with her so she could get her lens case. Her hands shook as she removed her lenses and placed them in the plastic container, taking deep breaths and trying to remind herself that she was taking care of Grady. He needed her right now.
Stepping back into a bathroom that was now foggy with steam, she heard a groan from the shower and yanked the door open. “I told you not to move,” she scolded, completely forgetting anything else except her need to keep Grady from hurting himself. She snatched the soapy sponge from his hand and dropped it to the shower floor. Reaching for his masculine-smelling soap, she lathered her hands and started stroking his body with long, languid motions, starting with his back, massaging the tense muscles as she worked.
Every inch of Grady’s body was solid muscle, and as she moved down to his ass, she could feel the incredibly toned glutes that she’d only admired from afar and covered by denim. They were so much hotter and so very real beneath her fingertips, flexing as she smoothed the soap over them.
Get him clean and into bed.
Finishing the back of his body, she washed his hair, pushing his head forward to rinse. “Turn,” she instructed quietly.
He turned compliantly, and she started on his front, nearly moaning as she stroked over the sculpted muscles of his chest.
“Strip,” Grady said huskily. “I want you naked right now. If I can’t fuck you, I at least want to see you.”
“I’m washing you. I don’t need to finish undressing—”