Page 108 of The Path to Loving Him
For some reason, that causes a surge of pride to pump through me. It shouldn’t. I should not care in the slightest. But hell, knowing she can smell me on her? Yeah, I fucking like that a lot.
I wrap my towel around my waist and watch as her eyes travel over my body, taking in every inch. I don’t blame her. I was doing the same thing when she was in the tub. When I washed her hair, I couldn’t take my eyes off her wet tits and hard nipples, the way her chest heaved, moving them in and out of the water. I was entranced.
Leaving her to look, I head into the bedroom and grab a pair of clean shorts. I drop my towel to the ground, showing off my ass, and slip on the shorts. When I turn around, catching her eyes on me, it takes every ounce of willpower not to capture her mouth with mine.
If I touch those lips, I’ll be a goner.
I have to remain neutral. I allowed this momentary lapse, but now we’re back to friends with no benefits. It will be better, easier.
“You ready?” I ask her as I pick up my phone and check it. I spot a text from Abel saying that he left the arnica gel on her doorstep.
“Ready,” she says as she pushes off the counter and takes one step toward me, but I’m quickly at her side and lifting her intomy arms. “You realize how ridiculous this is, right? You can’t carry me everywhere.”
“I can actually,” I say, weaving her through my room, down the stairs, and out the back door to my truck.
Luckily, I remembered to grab her things before we left the field. So I snag her purse and carry her up the steps to her apartment, where I set her down. While she digs out her keys, I pick up the gel. When she finds them, I take the keys from her and unlock the door, only to scoop her back up.
“Bedroom or living room?” I ask as I shut the door behind me.
“Living room is fine.”
I walk over to the couch and lightly place her on the cushion.
“Can I ask you to do me a favor?”
“Yeah, anything,” I say.
“Uh, can you get me a pair of underwear? Not a thong, just a regular pair. From what history has shown us today, you’ll insist on applying that gel, and when you go to spread my legs like you do, I’d rather have a barrier between your hands and my . . . lower half.”
The corners of my lips tick up as I nod. “Yeah, I can do that. Where’s your underwear?”
“Top drawer of my dresser,” she answers.
I head back to her bedroom, where my eyes roam the space. Wow. It’s beautifully decorated. White bed with green and white bedding, nightstands on either side, a matching white dresser, cream-colored rug, green curtains . . . and a fake tree in the corner. It’s put together. It looks like a home in here rather than the jail cell I’m living in.
I need to get my life together.
When I open the top drawer of her dresser, I’m greeted by lace and silk. Bras, thongs, cheeky underwear. She has it all. I sift through the fabric and pull out a pair of black lace underwear.Pleased with my choice, I take it to her in the living room, only for her to stare me down.
“That took you longer than it should have.”
“Wanted to make sure I got you the right pair,” I say as I move in front of her.
“I can put it on myself,” she says as she reaches for it.
“That’s okay, I can do it,” I say with a smirk as I move the underwear down to her feet. On a sigh, careful of her inner thighs, I slip them up her legs, then help her stand where she pulls it up the rest of the way.
“That was my job,” I say.
“I think that’s above your pay grade as a friend.” She sits back down with my help, then spreads her legs and gestures toward them. “For your inspection.”
That makes me chuckle as I squat down and look over her legs. “These are going to bruise bad.” I pick up the arnica gel and open the top. I squirt some on my fingers. “I’ll be gentle.” She sucks in a sharp breath as I start to spread it across her right thigh. “I know, just grin and bear it.” While I spread the gel with one hand, I hold her leg with the other and make soothing strokes with my thumb over her skin, letting her know that I’m not here to hurt her. I’m here to take care of her.
It takes a little bit of time, but once I’m done, I lift and wash my hands in the kitchen sink. Once I dry them off, I ask, “Do you want me to get you anything to drink?”
“Could I have some iced tea? There is a pitcher in my fridge. Cups are in the cabinet next to the fridge.”
“Sure,” I say. I remove the iced tea from the fridge, then pull two cups from the cabinet and fill them up. After returning the iced tea in the fridge, I bring the cups over to the couch and hand her one. When I take a seat next to her, she eyes me.
