Page 25 of Catch of a Lifetime
I watched him hop on the quad bike, start it up and make some big arm-waving gestures and thumbs-ups at me that I interpreted to mean he really liked it. He buzzed off up the track and across the field, quickly dropping out of sight.
Right. Now that he was safe, it was time to tend to my beloved.
I polished off the rest of the Hobnobs, ran around gathering supplies, and carted the lot upstairs and into my room.
Dave was awake, his dark eyes fixed on the door.
7
The moment I crossed the threshold, he crooned one of his soft noises at me and lifted an arm, beckoning me over.
Careful not to let the warm water slosh over the rim of the washing up bowl I’d filled at the kitchen sink, I sped up and set it down beside the bed. I laughed when his big hand curled around my neck as soon as I was within range and he drew me closer, staring at my mouth.
“All right, all right,” I said. “Here you go.” I pressed a quick kiss to his lips. He hummed and tightened his hold when I tried to move away. “Dave.” I reached up to wrap my fingers around his thick wrist. I tugged gently. “Let me take care of you first.”
When I tugged again, he heaved a sigh and released me.
His expression said he wasn’t happy about it, though.
“Stay there,” I said. “I’ll be back in a second.”
I slipped out of the room, smiling at the indignant noise that followed me. I grabbed some towels and a stack of facecloths from the airing cupboard and hurried back.
I dropped the lot at the bottom of the bed and stripped out of my damp, salt-stiff clothes. Dave gave a rumbling purr ofappreciation as he stroked his cock, his gaze on me sharpening and turning hot.
But still pained.
“Think again,” I told him. “Open wounds are not sexy. And let’s not forget, ten minutes ago, you passed out. This isn’t the time.”
He didn’t respond, busy smouldering at my plaid boxers.
I put my hands on my hips and contemplated him from across the room.
I was no stranger to bed baths, having been on the receiving end on more than a few occasions. They tended to be a part of the extended-stay-in-intensive-care experience, which I had endured twice. I couldn’t say I was a fan, either of the stays in intensive care or the bed baths, although when it came to the latter, I’d always appreciated being clean.
Dave, I rather suspected, was going to be a big fan.
He reached for me as soon as I came close enough. I caught his hand, squeezed it quickly, and set it down on the bed with a shake of my head. I removed the hand he had wrapped around his cock, gave him a stern look, and set that one on the mattress, too.
He didn’t fight it. To be honest, he seemed relieved more than anything.
“I’m going to need you to work with me here,” I said. “All right?”
Dave watched my face.
“I’m going to take care of you. Will you let me do that?”
He grunted.
My plan was to get the clutter of pillows and covers that he’d bunched up around him off the bed, tuck the towels around him in their place, and then sponge him down. Once I’d done that, I’d assess the wound situation.
There was no chance in hell I’d be able to sew him up without dire repercussions—pain and scarring for Dave, explosive loss of Hobnobs and tea for me—but I could gag my way through holding the edges together and applying the Steri-Strips. And if I ran out of strips, there was the plaster tape.
I went about stripping the covers off the bed. It took some doing; he’d bunched most of the duvet under him, and the fitted sheet had popped off all four corners. He groaned and winced and gasped but helped by rolling a little one way and then the other as I directed, until I’d managed to drag the duvet off completely and onto the floor. The pillows followed. I left the sheet where it was. I’d change that once the bath was done.
He didn’t quite know what was going on with the towels but he obligingly moved whenever I touched a hip or a shoulder, and I got them tucked under him snugly enough that any splashes wouldn’t soak through to the mattress.
As soon as I dropped a cloth in the water, wrung it out, and dragged it gently over his chest, he understood the plan. His eyes had been half-lidded with exhaustion and pain. At the warm, wet touch, he gave up completely and let them close all the way with a rumbling moan.
