Page 27 of Fighting for the Forbidden
“So it seems.” Her face is serious, but I can see in her eyes that she’s at least a little bit happy about it. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore.”
“I’ve got those painkillers in my bag, if you’d like some.”
Getting up, she gives me an incredible view of her body wrapped in only a thin, white summer dress. It’s cut low enough to give me just a hint of cleavage, and the obvious puckering of her nipples clues me in to the fact that she’s not wearing a bra. My mouth waters as I take my time running my eyes over every curve, wishing it were my hands instead.
“Don’t get any ideas.”
“Oh, baby, I had those years ago. Now I know exactly what I want.”
Sidestepping me, she heads back into the room. “Here, take these.”
“Thank you.”
“I went out first thing and got you some stuff.”
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I blanch when I see it’s lunchtime. “What did you want to do today? I don’t want to ruin your time here.”
Shrugging, she drags her eyes away from me. “I didn’t come here for the sightseeing, Ben. I just came here to get away.”
“You want to go and see stuff though, right?”
“I think it’s probably better that you rest.”
Nodding, I can’t help but agree that a day out wandering around Rome is the last thing I need right now, but if it’s what she wants, then I’d do it without question.
“You need to wash. You stink. There’s a bath and shower; I don’t know what will be easier,” she says, pointing to the door at the other end of the room. “I’ll be out there if you need me.”
She’s gone before I get to say anything else, but I can’t argue with what she’s saying. I can smell myself, and it’s not pleasant.
Walking through to the bathroom, I weigh up my options as I have a pee and use the still packaged toothbrush to freshen my mouth up. I don’t want to put too much thought to when the last time I did this was.
Thinking the bath might be my best bet if I want to keep my cast dry, I lower the plug, run the tap and pour in some of the bubbles sat on the side.
I manage to drop my jeans without too much fuss, and I discover that I can slip my socks off without wanting to scream in pain if I sit on the closed toilet seat. Attempting to remove my t-shirt, though, is another matter entirely. After a few minutes fighting, I give up after getting a much better idea. Pulling the door open, I poke my head around the corner. “Lauren, could I get some help?”
It’s only seconds before she appears in the doorway. The sight of her in that white dress with the sun shining behind her confirms what a good idea this is. As she walks towards me, I can see every single curve of her body, and my cock swells.
“What’s up?”
“I’m struggling. Could you help?” Pulling at the hem of my t-shirt, she drops her eyes.
“You’re serious?”
“Deadly. Will you help get me naked?” Raising an eyebrow, she crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m serious. I can’t get it off, it hurts too fucking much.”
A little sympathy flashes through her eyes, and after letting out a sigh, she follows me into the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind her.
The tension crackles between us the second I turn my stare on her.
“I’m just helping with your shirt, and then I’m going back outside.”
Her fingers grasp the fabric and she starts lifting. “Yeah, that’s why you shut the door. So you could make a hasty escape.”
“It was habit,” she argues as I slip my non-broken arm free. Her presence helps to dull the ache in my ribs.
“Yeah, whatever you say, baby.”
