Chapter 34 A Show
A SHOW
REN
Since my apartment was still vacant, Cassidy opted to stay there after her discharge from the hospital.
No stairs, conveniently located near the hospital and her favorite restaurants were the deciding factors for her.
I would’ve stayed absolutely anywhere she wanted, so I happily helped coordinate the place being turned livable in record time, and for some of our stuff to be brought over to give it some comforting touches.
Well, my mother and Issa drove that last part, but it was my idea.
She’s been a well of emotions over the past few weeks, and I can’t say I’ve been any better at some points.
I did try to hide it from her at first, but all it took was one heartfelt conversation from her for me to drop that act in a hurry.
She doesn’t want a man who’s going to sit back and watch her grieve.
She needs a man who’ll get down on the floor with her and lay bare the ugliness that loss creates.
A man who will then get up with her, shake it all off, and keep moving.
We make a good team, most of the time. When she’s not being too stubborn to ask for help, and when I’m not being so stubborn that I refuse to believe she doesn’t need my help.
“Ren,” Cassidy calls from the bedroom. “Could you come help me, please?”
Considering she hasn’t asked me to help her dress for a while now, I immediately stop what I’m doing and head for the bedroom. When I arrive I find it empty, but then she says from the bathroom, “In here.”
She’s standing in the middle of the large room, her hands gripped in front of her almost nervously so I lean against the doorjamb nonchalantly and ask, “Whatcha need?”
Looking rather sheepish she says, “Would you mind helping me wash my hair?”
“I will help you wash anything you want,” I reply without hesitation.
She smiles almost shyly and I push off the doorjamb, walking over to her, where I drop a kiss on her forehead. She sighs and relaxes visibly so I move to the large walk-in shower and start flipping dials.
The only renovation I made to this apartment when I moved in was the bathroom.
Initially it was smaller but I did a complete demolition and ended up combining the bathroom with the walk-in closet.
Being an athlete who wasn’t getting any younger, I wanted all the bells and whistles that would aid in recovery and I found it to be worth every penny in the long run.
Turning back to Cassidy I motion for her to enter the shower.
“Get comfortable and I’ll be right there.”
She removes her robe, hanging it rather primly from the hook on the wall.
And then with that same shy smile she shuffles toward the shower, stepping inside gingerly.
Having seen all sorts of sides of Cassidy, this is a new one.
I’m sure it’s a combination of everything that’s happened but also the fact that this will be the first time in weeks we’ve been naked together.
I pull my shirt over my head, toss it on the counter.
Then I go to remove my pants and my underwear and then think twice about it and only remove my pants.
My socks end up tangled in the heap on the floor and then I grab some extra towels to make sure they’re nearby before joining her in the shower.
She has strategically placed herself on the bench beneath the steady stream of warm water. Never having had long hair, I can only imagine what a pain it is to wash it properly. And then also adding to it the complication of having surgery, I’m surprised she didn’t ask me sooner.
Her eyes are closed, her head tipped back under the gentle flow of the water.
Water streams along her shoulders, down over her collarbone, and over her breasts.
Not wanting to get caught staring, I quickly move behind her, standing to the side so I’m not interfering with the flow of water. “Shall we shampoo and condition?”
One of her shoulders lifts slightly as she says, “You don’t have to.”
“Well, we’re here, we may as well do the job right.”
Smiling, she responds, “Whatever you want, babe.”
I fiddle with the controls in the shower, turning off the stream of water and turning up the steam.
Gentle heat immediately swirls around us as I pick up her bottle of shampoo, squirting what is likely an obnoxious amount into my hand and then putting the bottle back onto the shelf.
I rub my hands together and then eye the top of her head as I contemplate the best plan of attack here.
As if she senses my hesitation she laughs lightly. “Just slap it in there however.”
Wishing I’d thought this through beforehand, I attempt to get more of the shampoo onto my fingers than my palms, and then I take my fingertips and delve them into the hair at the top of her head.
I manage to scoop up a bit more, depositing what I can on her scalp toward the back and I attempt to massage it in, feeling completely ridiculous for how difficult I’m finding the rather mundane task of washing someone’s hair.
The shampoo starts to lather in her scalp and then I eye it speculatively before picking up the shampoo bottle and squirting a little bit more into my hand.
I meticulously dab shampoo in the spots that look like they have no soap, and then go back to massaging it all together again.
“Did you use the whole bottle?”
Frowning, I grip her head in both of my hands and then pull her head back slightly so she’s looking up at me with those humor filled eyes. “Don’t judge. It’s not like I’ve spent a lot of time washing hair that’s not my own.”
She makes a kissy face at me and then smiles, and I push her head back so I can focus on washing her scalp. She sighs heavily, relaxes back into me. “I’m pretty sure my hair has never been this clean.”
“A job worth doing,” I respond, not bothering to finish the statement.
Grabbing the shower head, I unhook it, turning the water on and bringing it close to her scalp in order to wash out all the shampoo.
I do this until the water runs clear and then turn off the water and replace the shower head in the bracket.
Turning back to the shower products I scan the various bottles before asking, “Any conditioner here?”
“Oh, sorry,” she responds. “I had to get a new bottle. I forgot it on the counter.”
“No problem,” I respond, already heading toward the shower door.
I’m just stepping out into the bathroom to grab the bottle of conditioner from the counter when she asks, “Ren, what are you wearing?”
I pick up the bottle of conditioner and turn back to her before responding, “What’s it look like I’m wearing?”
She tilts her head. “Why are you wearing your underwear in the shower?”
I shrug, suddenly feeling silly. “I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
She laughs rather humorously as she responds, “Uncomfortable how?”
I carefully close the shower door and then reply, “I don’t know. My body’s response to you.”
“Were you afraid I’d be offended that you don’t find me attractive in my current state?”
Now I roll my eyes and snort. “That’s gotta be a bad joke, right?”
She shrugs, suddenly looking shy again and so I close the distance between us, stopping right in front of her as I add, “Does that scream disinterest?”
Her eyes hold mine for a moment and then, slowly, they move downward.
She takes her time dragging her gaze down my chest and abdomen before settling on what is quite obviously an erection behind my damn underwear.
Her lips curve up, her eyes moving back to mine, looking rather pleased, and so I say, “I didn’t want you feeling pressured or uncomfortable by the fact that my dick has no manners. ”
She laughs and I smile in response, relieved to have lightened the mood slightly. Then she lifts her hands, grips the waistband of my underwear, yanking down and I grab her wrists as I exclaim, “What are you doing?”
The look she gives me is quite saucy as she licks her lips and replies, “Maybe I need a closer look.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I reply, holding her hands steady. “Your doctor said six weeks, and it definitely hasn’t been that.”
“Yes, that six weeks was for intercourse. This is not intercourse.”
Never in my wildest dreams would I have considered the word intercourse to be sexy, but here I am, wanting her to say it again.
But as much as I want her to say all the things to me, I don’t want her taking on anything that might impede her healing.
“While I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, I don’t think the doctors recommendations would go for it. ”
She rolls her eyes a bit and mutters, “Actually, they said whenever I felt comfortable.”
I give her my best faux stern look as I respond, “Says the woman who asked for help washing her hair.”
Her eyes narrow as she attempts to jerk her hands out of my grip, but I hold steady. “Don’t act offended. You know I’d like nothing more than to have your hands and mouth on me. Hell, you know damn well I’d rub myself on you twenty-four seven if I could get away with it.”
Her expression softens and her sigh is a little less angry. “I just want to do something nice for you.”
I throw my head back and laugh then look back at her and say, “Well, of all the reasons to put yourself out.”
I let my sentence trail off, knowing she’ll understand what I’m trying to say. She glares at me but there’s no animosity in her expression. After a moment, she lowers her hands and I release her wrists. Then she says, “Fine, you do it then.”
I freeze in the middle of adjusting my underwear. “Do what?”
She makes a shooing motion with her hand as she responds, “You do it. I want to watch.”
I grimace slightly, not because I have an issue jerking off in front of her, but more because I’m not getting much of a warning and me standing in front of her while she sits on the bench just feels off. “I’ll make a deal with you.”
She rolls her eyes hard this time and mutters, “You and your fucking deals.”
“Are you for real right now? My deals?”