“Your hair is a little darker than Owen’s,” she said.
“Can you stop comparing me to my brother all the time?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that it upset you.”
And now he felt like an ass for bringing it to her attention. It shouldn’t upset him; she was just comparing their hair color. “It is darker than his and curlier when it’s long.” Which Chad had always hated, so he preferred a buzz cut even when he wasn’t wearing the uniform.
Lindsey held her hand along the gash on his scalp to direct the flow of soapy water away from the stitches.
“I’m making a huge mess,” she said, though the towels on the chair were absorbing all the water. “We probably should have done this in the yard.”
He wrapped a hand around the solid length of his shaft. “I’m sure Mrs. Futznitz would have been a tad scandalized by the sight of this.”
Lindsey giggled. “Even more so if she could read my thoughts about it.”
He wouldn’t mind reading her thoughts about it. Maybe. He might not want to know what she really thought of his body but was too nice to say.
She added shower gel to a soft sponge and began to rub it over his back and shoulders, arms and chest. Her other hand mirrored the same strokes to his soapy skin.
“You’re so hard,” she said as her hands moved up his chest.
He knew she meant his muscular body, but couldn’t resist teasing her. “Are you sure? You haven’t touched it in a while.”
Standing behind him, she pushed the sponge down his belly. Her breath tickled his ear as she said, “Hard abs too.” When the sponge touched his dick, his entire body jerked. “Hard cock. What else is hard, Mitchell?”
“Sitting still while you touch me. Hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
Her cheek moved against his, and he imagined she was smiling.
“I’m not finished yet.”
She leaned away and dipped the sponge into her bucket of water, rinsing the soap out of it by squeezing it several times. He wasn’t sure why that simple action had his balls tightening in protest at having to wait. He was thoroughly enjoying this sponge bath.
Lindsey used the sponge to remove the traces of soap from his skin, rinsing the sponge several times and using a towel to dry him as she went. He figured she was about finished until she pulled the bucket around to the front of the chair and knelt. She held his gaze as her fingers moved to the edge of the bandage that covered his stump or—what had that physical therapist called it?—his residual limb.
“Lindsey, don’t,” he said, taking her hands in his. She didn’t pull away, just looked up with compassion written across her face and shining in her eyes.
“Why not? Your bottom half needs to be cleaned too.”
“I don’t want you to have to look at it. It’s disgusting.”
“It’s part of you,” she said, her gaze still holding his. “No part of you could ever disgust me.”
“Not even my toenail clippings?”
She laughed and shook her head. “Not even your toenail clippings.”
“I don’t feel comfortable with my stump exposed.”
She nodded. “Okay, you can wash it later. I wish you’d let me massage it. The nurse said that would help it heal.”
The nurse had said that, but she’d never said that Lindsey had to suffer through the task. Chad had been doing that chore on his own so far and would continue to do so.
Lindsey added more shower gel to her sponge and soaped up his balls. The head of his dick somehow ended up in her mouth. His eyelids fluttered closed as he gave himself over to the pleasure she offered. She sucked his tip gently while she squeezed soapy water over his balls. It felt so good, he couldn’t catch his breath. The sponge moved to his inner thighs, his hips, outer thighs, and still she sucked him. She stopped just short of the bandage on his right leg but continued down over his knee, calf, and ankle of the left. His cock had to leave her mouth for her to wash his foot, but the sponge and her thumbs against his instep felt too good to pass up.
“Why don’t you trust me?” she asked.
His eyes popped open, and he looked down at her, wondering why she thought he didn’t trust her.
“I do trust you.”
“I’ll be gentle,” she said. “If I hurt you, I promise I’ll stop.”
She was still fixating on the one part of him not completely bare to her. “Why do you want to see it so bad? Do you have a stump fetish or something?”
Her eyes widened, and she flushed. “No, I just want to know all of you.”
“You’ll never know all of me because parts of me are missing.” His leg being the least important part that he’d lost on that battlefield.
A tear slipped down her cheek, and she ducked her head.
He pulled off the bandage and pointed at the neat row of stitches at the end of his stump. “If you want to see it so bad, there! Don’t cry over it, for fuck’s sake.”
“That’s not why.” She sniffed and rubbed a hand over one tear-soaked cheek and then the other, but she still wouldn’t look at him. “That’s not why I’m crying.”
“Then why?” He stroked her hair, his heart panging with hurt. For her. He’d rather suffer a thousand more wounds than see her shed a single tear.
“Because you haven’t.”
“Haven’t what, angel?”
“You haven’t grieved for everything you’ve lost, Chad. You haven’t cried, so I’ll cry for you.”
“How do you know that? Maybe I cry myself to sleep every night.” He smirked at her, not willing to admit that she was right. He hadn’t grieved the loss of his leg or Emerson or Jawa or even Josie, and he didn’t plan to. Not ever. “Now, please stop, angel. I can’t stand to see you hurting.”
“How do you think I feel seeing you hurt?”
“There’s not much pain, really,” he said. At least not the kind a few Tylenol couldn’t alleviate.
She bent her head and kissed his left thigh and then the right not far above where the bandage usually covered. She circled that thigh with both hands and looked up at him as she massaged the muscle, inching her way down. It took every bit of his self-control not to push her away. She wasn’t the one who had an issue with what remained of his leg—he was—and he wanted to prove to himself and to her that he didn’t need to grieve. He was glad to be alive. Any life was more than Emerson had, more than Jawa had.
He closed his eyes and concentrated on the feel of her hands on him. It wasn’t so strange really, her touching his leg. She never quite made it to the staples.
“It looks like it’s almost healed,” she said.
So she was looking at it. Closely.
“Staples come out in another week,” he said. “Then I can get a wooden peg, an eyepatch, and a parrot.”
“You’ll be able to get around so much easier,” she said. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep up with you.”
“I won’t leave you behind.” He opened his eyes and found her blinking back tears again. “I asked you not to do that, angel. Don’t cry for me anymore.”
“I’m not,” she said. “This time it’s for me. I’m extra emotional today.”
“Must be hormones,” he said.
She shook her head slightly. “It’s this guy I’m seeing.” She reached up to trace his lower lip with one fingertip. “He’s pretty terrific.”
So she admitted they were seeing each other. Maybe Chad did have a chance with her. And maybe it wasn’t pity or a sense of duty that caused her to like him. Maybe she liked him for who he was, even if he wasn’t some famous rock star. “Do I know the guy?”
“I think you might. He hangs out in your mirror.”
“I think I have seen him around. Is he clean enough to take you to bed now?” Because he wanted to make her body feel as good as his heart felt whenever she was near.
/> “Almost.” She used her sponge to clean all that remained of his right leg, using such care and tenderness that his chest ached. After drying the leg, she stood, but he caught her wrist.
“Come sit on my lap, angel,” he said. “Kiss me.”
“In a minute,” she said, tugging her wrist from his grasp. “I need to do something first.”
He scowled, wondering what could possibly be more important than kissing him, until she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. She held his gaze as she slipped the straps from her shoulders, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering as she peeled off her bra and dropped it on the pile of discarded clothing. His mouth watered at the sight of her full breasts—tips ruddy and peaked. He licked his lips, ready for a taste of her. She dropped her panties next and then lifted one leg and eased it over the chair to straddle him.
“Find me, Chad,” she whispered.
He grabbed his cock and rubbed the tip into her opening, and then he groaned when she sank down and buried him in her tight heat. She shifted to deepen their connection and wrapped her arms loosely around his neck.
“That’s better,” she whispered before leaning in to claim his mouth in a deep kiss.
He fought the urge to thrust as she kissed him and kissed him and kissed him some more. Oh God, he needed to move.
“Angel?” he muttered into her mouth.
“Yes?”
“Are you able to . . . move in that position?”
“You told me to sit on your lap and kiss you,” she said, her lips pecking the tip of his nose. “I’m just following instructions.”
He recognized the teasing light in her eyes and couldn’t be cross with her.
“So, if I requested that you fuck me . . .”
“I’d fuck you. But I was hoping you’d want to make this last a while. Take it slow.”
She pressed her feet to the floor and lifted her hips slowly. He groaned as pleasure rippled through his flesh. His breath caught when she stopped—his tip barely penetrating her—and then she slowly lowered over him again.