“I can leave the room while you clean your boy parts.” She gestured in the general direction of said parts.
I snort. “Sweetheart, they’re as far from beingboyparts as you can get. There’s no doubt about it, I’m all man.”
She flashes me a smug grin. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”
We tease each other all the time—but this level of sexual innuendo is new. That’s not to say we haven’t used it before, but it’s always been reserved for other people. Like a date or a one-night stand or a random member of the opposite gender.
“What about tomorrow when I need help again?” I ask.
“I’ll swing by after work to check on you, and I can reprise my role as your nurse.”
I open my mouth to argue, but she beats me to it. “It’s your fault for not having a girlfriend or wife. If you did, your poor friend wouldn’t have to do it for you. But if you want, I can ask Connor, Adam, or Landon to give you a hand instead.” Her mouth moves sardonically to the side, knowing I will never accept sponge-bath duty from one of those guys—and I can’t imagine they would be jumping up and down for the chance to do it, either.
“Yes, my bad for not having a girlfriend or getting married just for an occasion like this. Although if I did have one, the moment I was shot, she would’ve been out the door. So I’ve saved everyone that headache by remaining single.”
“Wow, you really have a low opinion of women, don’t you?” She looks in the cabinet under the sink, removes a washcloth, and straightens. “If a woman loves you, she won’t bail on you just because you get shot.”
Eager to escape the current discussion, I point to the washcloth in her hand. “So, have you ever done this before?”
“What? Give a guy a sponge bath? Nope. But there’s always a first time for everything.”
“You know it’s not in your job description.” Or at least I don’t believe it is.
“I know. But itisin my best friend description. Okay, let’s get you out of your clothes.” She unbuttons the white dress shirt. The T-shirt I’d been wearing during the mission was covered in blood. Liam had grabbed the shirt from my duffle bag so I could change into it at the hospital after they finished patching me up.
Isabelle doesn’t say anything as she continues slowly unfastening my shirt. I swear she’s holding her breath, as if the action requires the utmost concentration, her lower lip caught between her teeth.
Her fingers lightly brush my abs as she approaches the final buttons. A tingling spreads from the spot like the zap of static, only more pleasant.
She inhales sharply, the sound so soft, I’m certain I imagined it. And her fingers pause for a brief moment before she resumes her task.
Once the shirt is unbuttoned, she starts to unfasten my sling. “Keep your arm steady against your body with your other hand,” she instructs, her attention still on the device.
After she removes the sling, she peels the shirt off my shoulders and helps me slide my healthy arm out of the sleeve. The removal of the shirt from my injured arm results in a fair bit of mental cursing on my part. Isabelle looks unsettled enough without knowing the wound kills like a motherfucker.
She drops the shirt to the floor and releases a hard breath.
“That wasn’t so bad,” I say between slightly clenched teeth.
It’s a good thing I’m not Pinocchio—my nose would be a mile long.
She reaches for the top button of my jeans.
I grin at her. “You’re not trying to cop a feel, are you?”
Her cheeks flare bright red, and she grumbles, “You know, you’re the worst patient around. I’m sure there was at least one nurse at the hospital who wanted to jab a needle in your ass just to shut you up.”
“I’m an awesome patient.” Who will be in serious trouble as soon as she pulls down my zipper.
To keep from thinking about her hands so near my cock, I recount in my head the mission. Right down to the part where I was shot.
It seems to work until Isabelle kneels, hooks her thumbs in the waistband of my jeans, and carefully peels them down my legs.
With her head so close to my package, my cock gets the wrong idea and grows harder.
There’s no missing the effect she’s having on me.
So I take the only recourse left.
