Chapter 19 #2
Leon dissolves into giggles, high and bright and utterly delighted, and I grin at him, sharing the universal male experience of enduring a woman’s well-meaning fussing.
“Does yours itch?” Leon asks, scratching near his bandage with absent-minded fingers.
“Don’t scratch,” Mina and I say in unison.
Leon’s hand stills immediately, and he looks between us with wide, surprised eyes. Then he dissolves into giggles again.
Mina shakes her head, but I catch the smile tugging at her lips. “You two are going to be trouble together, aren’t you?”
Together. A hot spark of pleasure travels through me.
I watch as she moves to Leon’s other side, my eyes tracking her every movement like I’m afraid she’ll disappear if I look away. Her fingers are gentle as she checks his bandage.
“Let me see, baby. Does this hurt? Any pulling or burning?”
“No, Mama.”
“You’d tell me if there was, right?” There’s steel underneath the gentleness. “Even if you think it’s not important, you tell me.”
“I promise.”
She nods, satisfied for now, and presses a kiss to his forehead before lowering his shirt again. But I see her protectiveness, that mama bear ready to tear apart anything that threatens her cub.
She’d kill for him.
My gentle Mina, who hums while arranging flowers and speaks in soft voices and flinches away from violence, would absolutely destroy anyone who tried to hurt our son.
The realization makes me love her even more.
Mina is pressed against my side again as she helps me back to my own room, her body warm and soft. I can feel something different in the way she touches me now. Her hand on my waist isn’t just functional anymore. She’s holding me like she wants to, not just because she has to.
We pass a window, and I catch a glimpse of the garden below, the roses blooming in neat rows, the fountain catching the morning light. My garden now. My house. My family inside it.
As long as we stay here in this perfect bubble, nothing bad can touch us.
We’re almost to my bedroom when my phone rings in the pocket of my pajama pants. I consider ignoring it, not wanting to break this moment, but Mina pauses expectantly.
I pull it out and see that it’s the nursing company.
“Mr. Montoni.” The woman’s voice is apologetic. “I’m afraid Dimitri is running about three hours late this morning. We can send someone else if you like?”
I glance at Mina. She’s not looking at me, but I can see her profile in the morning light, the delicate curve of her jaw, the way her hair falls over her shoulder. She’s still holding me, her arm around my waist, her body pressed against mine like it belongs there.
The words come out before I’ve fully thought them through. “No need. My girlfriend will help me today.”
I end the call before I can second-guess myself, before the nursing company can question the sudden change, before I can analyze what I’ve just done.
When I look up, Mina is staring at me with wide eyes.
“The nurse canceled,” I tell her easily, despite the little white lie. “But it’s fine. I can shower and change my bandage myself.”
Mina gasps. “Don’t be ridiculous. You can barely stand up straight. You’re not showering alone.”
“I’m standing on my own two feet right now.”
Her eyes narrow. “I’m not letting you risk hurting yourself just because you’re too proud to accept help.”
“Well, if you’re sure…” I say, fighting a smile as she leads us forward.
Inside the bathroom, Mina moves to the shower and turns on the water, testing the temperature with her hand before stepping back. Steam begins to billow around us.
I pull my shirt off slowly, mindful of my incision, and I don’t miss the way her eyes track the movement, the way her gaze lingers on my bare chest before she catches herself and looks away.
There’s color high in her cheeks when she turns back to me, holding out a towel at waist height for my privacy, all professional and proper.
I smile at her over the towel as I push down my pajama pants and step out of them, and she makes a small sound in her throat that she probably thinks I don’t hear. But I do. A little whimper of need at the sight of me, despite the bandage across my midsection.
“Could you help me with my bandage?” I ask, wrapping the towel around my waist. “The nurse usually waterproofs it before I shower.”
“Oh. Yes.” She moves to the counter where the supplies are laid out in neat rows. Medical tape, plastic sheeting, scissors, gauze. When she turns back to me, she’s holding the materials like a shield.
“We’re going to be professional about this,” she warns, and there’s something almost desperate in her voice. “I heard what you said on the phone. I’m your nurse, not your girlfriend.”
“It just came out,” I say, smiling wider. I’m falling in love with this fantasy we’re living, and I can’t help myself.
She studies my face for a long moment, and I can’t read what she’s thinking.
Her hands are steady as she carefully positions the plastic sheeting over my bandage, but I can see the slight tremor in her fingers and hear her breath catch when her knuckles brush against my skin.
“Does this hurt?” she asks, running her fingers around the edges of the plastic, smoothing the medical tape along my skin with touches so light they’re almost not there.
My eyelids flutter at the sensation, and I have to take a deep breath before I can answer. “No. You’re very gentle.”
Her touch feels like heaven. I soak in even these tiny strokes.
“All right.” She steps back to examine her work, making sure the seal is tight. “That should keep the water out.”
She raises her eyes to my face, and our gazes lock. For a moment neither of us moves, neither of us breathes. The bathroom is warm and intimate, filled with steam, and I can see the exact moment her eyes drop to my mouth, can see the way her pupils dilate as she stares at my lips.
She wants to kiss me. I can see it written all over her face.
I lower my head slowly, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it against my ribs. Her eyes drift closed and she tilts her face up to mine, her lips parting slightly in invitation.
But just before I can close the distance, her eyes fly open and she jerks back, putting space between us like I’ve burned her.
“Sorry, I um—got distracted,” she says, confusion coloring her cheeks. “Let’s get you in the shower. The water’s hot.”
I pull off the towel and drop it on the rack. I’m already half hard just from having her this close, and there’s nowhere for her to look that isn’t me. Her face flames red.
Just another client, am I? I can’t help but smile as I step toward the glass enclosure and into the shower.
The water is hot, almost too hot, and steam billows around me as I step under the spray.
I close my eyes for a moment, letting the heat soak into my sore muscles, feeling the tension start to drain out of my shoulders.
When I open my eyes again, Mina is half turned away, her arms wrapped around herself. “Mina.”
“Yes?” She looks up at me with big, tentative eyes and then looks away again.
“I need your help. With my back. I can’t reach it properly, and the nurse usually helps.”
She nods, keeping her eyes fixed somewhere around my collarbones, determinedly not letting her gaze travel down my body.
She reaches in carefully for the loofah, but water splashes her arm anyway, soaking her sleeve. She squeezes shower gel onto it, the familiar scent of cedar and bergamot filling the steamy air.
“Turn around,” she instructs.
I do, presenting her with my back, and wait.
The first touch of the loofah against my shoulders makes my breath catch in my throat. Her other hand braces against my side to steady me.
“Is that all right?” she asks softly.
“Yes.” The word comes out rougher than I intended. “Just like that. Perfect.”
She scrubs in slow circles across my shoulders, between my shoulder blades, and each stroke releases another knot of tension and wave of pleasure. Mina’s hands on my skin after so many years of wanting her. Mina touching me.
A low sound escapes my throat before I can stop it, something between a groan and a sigh.
She pauses immediately. “Am I hurting you?”
“No.” I can barely form words around the tightness in my chest. “God, no. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”
She holds still for a moment, and I can feel her hesitation, can imagine her biting her lip the way she does.
Then she continues, the loofah moving down my spine with careful, tender strokes, working around my hips, then back up, tracing the muscles of my back.
The tattoos of her scratches in my flesh.
“How sweet it is when you touch me like this,” I say quietly, my voice hazy with pleasure. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted, Mina. You, touching me. Being here with me.”
“Cristiano, don’t.” There’s a tremor in her voice that wasn’t there before.
The loofah moves lower, tracing the small of my back with gentle pressure, and pleasure radiates outward from every point of contact.
“I never thought I’d have this,” I continue, because I can’t seem to stop the words from spilling out. “Sometimes I wake up, and I can’t believe it’s real. I’m afraid I’ll blink and you’ll both be gone.”
The loofah pauses against my spine.
I turn slowly to face her, and the water beats against my back, running down my body in rivulets. She’s still outside the spray, but she’s close enough that mist clings to her hair, making it curl slightly.
“You’re getting wet,” I tell her, even though she’s barely damp compared to what’s about to happen.
“I’m fine.” Her eyes are locked on my face, determinedly not looking down. Suds drip from the loofah as she stares at me.
“Why are you pretending? Why are you acting like this doesn’t mean anything to you?”
“Because it can’t.” Her voice is pleading. “We can’t—”
“Why not? Because you’re afraid? Because you think I’m going to hurt you? Or because you’re afraid of how much you want this?”
Her breathing is coming faster now, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” I challenge her. “Tell me you feel nothing when I touch you. Tell me this means nothing.”