Once I’m done peeing, I carefully move to the sink to take a look in the mirror and immediately regret it.
Now I know why he wanted to help me bathe.
How on earth did they all keep a straight face around me?
My dark hair, which was in beautiful waves yesterday, resembles a complete rat’s nest today, and my eyeliner and mascara are smeared all around my light-brown eyes. My face, neck, and arms have streaks of dirt and blood all over them, and I easily resemble an extra on a cheap B-horror movie set.
“Matteo, do you have any washcloths in here?” I brace myself on the edge of the counter, not trusting the slight dizziness in my brain and body.
He opens the door and bends down to one of the cabinets under the sink, brushing my leg in the process. I suppress the shiver, remembering how terrible that last body ripple was for my injury earlier.
Matteo stands back up with a gray washcloth in his hand, leaning around me to turn on the water. Once the washcloth is wet, he wrings it out and wipes my face. I don’t even attempt to protest, focusing on staying upright by clinging to the counter instead.
Once I appear at least a little more human, he gets the sweatpants from the bed, holding them out in front of me to step into. I have to steady myself on his shoulders before I topple over, making things more awkward by the second.
I attempt to look everywhere else but at him. “Thank you.”
He grunts in response, before gripping one of my arms to help me back into the bedroom. When we reach the bed, he studies the food intently.
“Do you want to eat while you stand? It might be easier.”
I hate the thought of standing any longer with my dizziness, but the alternative isn’t very appealing either. “Yeah. Bending, or any kind of movement, seems to yank at my wound.”
While keeping a firm grip on my elbow, he leans down to pick up the orange juice and turns my way. “Open.”
“What?”
“Open your mouth.”
I break eye contact and lick my dry lips.
“You let me finger-fuck you but get all shy when I want to feed you?”
Damn it, he’s got a point.
And I’m really thirsty and hungry too.
“Open. Your. Mouth.”
Without looking at him, I comply and cup my mouth around the rim of the glass the instant the cold firmness touches my lips.
“Good girl.”
Warmth rushes through my body at his words, showing once more how completely out of whack my body is for reacting this way.
I drink most of the juice before he places it back on the tray.
He gets a piece of toast next, and this time, I open my mouth before he can say anything.
Or so I thought.
I’m completely aware of just how close he’s standing to me while he says, “Open wider.”
I do as he says and bite off a piece of the jam toast, enjoying the sweet flavor in my mouth.
“Now swallow.”
Two words spoken in a low rumble, and my gaze flicks up to his immediately, almost like a reflex. My heart beats to a wild rhythm when I see the fire in his eyes.