Chapter 28
GEMMA
Asponge bath, Gemma?
Riggs has been in your home for all of ten hours—nine and a half of them spent being a total asshole—and you offer the man a sponge bath? Are you okay?
No.
The answer is no.
I am not okay.
Switching over to autopilot, I let myself fall back into the routine I kept with Dent. Toward the end, he needed my help with just about everything, but in the beginning, he was able to brush his own teeth and wipe himself down while I got his bed ready.
I hate this, Gemma. I hate that it’s you, stuck taking care of me …
In the beginning he said it every night, his speech slurred from the stroke. Slurred or not, I understood him just fine. Toward the end, he didn’t say anything. Just looked at me. Watched me while I moved around him. Listened while I talked to him like he was capable of talking back.
In the reflection of the windows, I can see Riggs behind me.
Watch while he strips off his T-shirt, so he can run a damp washcloth over his bare chest. Like he can feel me watching him, he flicks a quick look at the bathroom mirror.
Caught staring, I feel my face go up in flames.
Redoubling my efforts, I get back to work, fluffing his pillows like my life depends on it.
Your cat isn’t the only creeper here, Gemma.
Switching off the bathroom light, Riggs wheels himself toward me while I keep fluffing his pillows like a mad woman.
“It’s fine, Gem,” he says. “I got this. Go on up to?—”
“The VA is paying me to take care of you,” I remind him, my tone just haughty enough to disguise the fact that I’m suddenly so nervous I can barely breathe. “I’d appreciate it if you’d let me do my job.”
“Alright.” Making an odd noise in the back of his throat, I catch the shrug he gives me in my peripheral. “Where do you want me, nurse Gemma?”
Finally stopping, I drop my hands to my sides and turn to look at him.
He’s stripped bare to the waist, his broad, powerful chest and thick, muscular arms covered in tattoos I’ve never seen, a stark contrast to the wasted lower half of him.
Nearly five months in a wheelchair has taken its toll.
Even encased in a pair of jeans I can see how thin his legs are in comparison to the rest of him.
Because the thought fills me with fear and pity in equal measure, I push it aside.
Riggs is here to get better and it’s my job to help him. And thankfully, right now, he’s seems to be in the mood to let me.
Focusing on his face, I give him a bright smile. “Are we honeymooning, Riggs?”
“If that’s what you want to call me making a concerted effort to stop being an asshole, then yes.” He flashes me one of those devastating grins of his. The one that always made my knees wobble. “We’re honeymooning, Gem—although I can’t promise how long it’s gonna last.”
“I’ll take what I can get.” Letting out a relieved breath, I lower myself onto the edge of his bed. “I could use the vacation.” Pointing to the spot in front of me, I tip my chin. “Right here.”
Rolling into position, he stops his chair. “Now what?”
“Now, you let me help you into bed,” I tell him, sounding much more confident than I feel.
“To be honest, I’m curious as to how this is going to work,” he says, his tone more casual than concerned. “Unless you have a forklift in your pocket?—”
“I don’t need a forklift, Riggs.” Still going for glib, I lean over him to set the locks on his wheelchair. “I am a forklift.”
“Gem…” I feel the warm, minty breath of it on my neck and the floor suddenly starts to tilt. “I really think it would be best if you let me do this on my own.”
Moving back just enough to look him in the eye, I give him a frown. “You don’t think I can do it.”
The corner of his mouth twitches at my tone while his dark, bottomless gaze hooks itself into mine. “What I think is that as soon as I stand up, you’re going to see that I’ve had a hard-on since you said the word sponge bath.”
“Oh.” Heat flooding my face, I feel my mouth go dry. “I didn’t… I mean, I just assumed that?—”
“That I couldn’t get it up because I’m stuck in this wheelchair?” His tone is casual enough but there’s a weight to it. Something heavy that makes me sure there’s nothing casual about what he’s telling me.
“After I said yes to you staying here, I read up on your type of spinal injury,” I answer him honestly. “Everything that I read said sexual function was possible but not necessarily a given.”
“Oh…” His dark gaze drops to my mouth for a moment before it finds mine. “It’s a given.”
Letting out a long, slow breath, I do my best to regulate my response. “Well… it’s bound to happen.” Leaning heavily on my training, I fight the wave of heat that washes over me. “Random, physiological responses are completely normal, especially while your body adapts itself to your implant.”
“Random? Okay…” His lips twitch again. “If believing that makes you feel better.”
Deciding to wait it out in hopes that his reaction to my offer of a sponge bath goes away, I ease myself back to sit on the edge of his bed again. “Riggs—” I don’t know what I’m about to say but it’s bound to be stupid. Thankfully, he doesn’t give me the chance to embarrass myself.
“Are you fucking him?” He asks it almost begrudgingly. Like maybe he doesn’t want me to answer. It takes me a second to figure out who he’s talking about.
“Colt?” When I say my neighbor’s name, something dark and dangerous flickers across his face. “He’s my neighbor.”
“Exactly.” He makes that rough, ugly noise in the back of his throat. “That’s what would make fucking him so convenient.”
“And if I am?” I’m poking at a rabid animal right now. I know I am, but I can’t see to stop.
“If you were,” Riggs counters, his tone careful and even enough to tell me he’s not really feeling either of those things. “Then you aren’t anymore.”
“Because I’m not allowed to be happy?” I ask, recalling the late night conversation we had weeks ago in his hospital room.
He gives me another smirk, this one totally devoid of humor. “Not if what makes you happy is fucking Colt Montgomery.”
“Same ol’ Riggs,” I quip casually while I mentally scramble for cover. “Still trying to big brother me. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m old enough to have sex.”
“It was never about trying to big brother you, Gem,” he confesses quietly, his dark gaze unreadable and fixed on mine.
“It was just me, being a selfish, miserable prick because I couldn’t have you…
” His gaze drops my mouth again while he traces the tip of his tongue along the inside of his lower lip.
“And I know you’re old enough for a lot of things.
” Flicking his gaze up to meet mine, he gives me one of those crooked grins. “You never used to shut up about it.”
Swallowing hard against the ache building in the back of my throat, I shake my head. “Because you always insisted on treating me like a child.”
“Not always,” he reminds me quietly, the heat in his gaze flaring for a moment before he looks away. “And I wasn’t treating you like a child, Gem. I was treating you like a promise. One I broke just about every time I let myself anywhere near you.”
“One I never got a say in,” I tell him, letting old frustrations bubble to the surface. “You and Beck just decided I was untouchable without even asking me what I wanted.”
“I never said it was fair and I never said we were right.” He shrugs, letting me know that arguing about the past is as useless as it is frustrating. “I’m just telling you the why of it. I owe you that much.”
“You owe me a helluva lot more than that,” I tell him quietly. Giving him a flat smile, I decide I’ve heard enough confessions for the night. “How’s your hard-on?”
“Manageable.” Seemingly relived I’m closing the subject of the past and amused by my blunt question, Riggs chuckles. “Although, I can’t promise it’ll stay that way if you get any closer.”
“Well, we’re going to have to risk it,” I tell him, matter-of-factly.
“It’s nearly 2AM and we both need some sleep.
Your physical therapist will be here for your initial assessment at nine.
” Maneuvering myself in front of him again, I straddle one of his legs before crouching slightly.
“Put your hands on my shoulders,” I instruct him.
“Okay.” Sounding skeptical at best, Riggs lifts his hands to do as I say. “Now what?”
“Now, you let me work,” I tell him. “Relax. Don’t try to help.
” Keeping my back loose while engaging my thigh muscles, I reach behind him to lock my arms around his back.
“Count of three.” Riggs cheek pressed against mine, I temper my own response to the feel of his breath on my neck.
His huge, rough hands, shaped around my shoulders.
The rush of heat I feel when his grip tightens as I start to count.
“One… two… three…” Lifting slightly, I pivot, completing the transfer from chair to bed smoothly.
“See?” Still straddling his thigh, I unlock my arms before straightening myself in front of him.
Like in his chair, Riggs and I are nearly the same height. “I’m a forklift.”
“Wow…” Giving me a slightly mystified smile, Riggs loosens his grip on my shoulders to let his callused palms slide down the length of my bare arms. “Color me impressed. I was sure we were going to end up on the floor.”
“I have crazy lower leg strength, from hauling Dent around, all those years,” I inform him in a prideful tone, my hands moving for the front of his jeans. “Let’s get you undressed and?—”
“Raging, Gem,” he says, those rough hands of his giving my arms a squeeze before they all away completely. “It’s gone from manageable to raging because even if I can’t feel it, I know your pussy is hovering above my thigh and the thought of it is making me so hard it hurts.”
“Oh. I—” Taking a step back, I feel the back of my leg hit his wheelchair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to?—”
“I don’t remember saying I didn’t like it,” he tells me with one of those slightly amused smiles of his that tells me he’s very aware of my reaction to him. “I just thought I’d let you know what you’d be getting yourself into if you started fumbling with my zipper.”
I suddenly see myself on my knees in front of him, Riggs hands wrapped in my hair while he fucks my throat, his thick, rigid cock pumping, hard and fast, into the heat and suction of my mouth while he comes for me on a rough shout that sounds like my name.
Oh my god.
What is happening?
Thirty minutes ago, I was ready to kill him, and now…
Now I can’t stop thinking about what it would feel like to have him?—
Riggs gives me an amused lip twitch that tells me he’s all but reading my mind right now.
Turning, I fumble with his chair, trying to get it out of my way while I scramble back, to get away from the rush of dizzying heat that being so close to him floods through me.
Finally on the other side of it, I give him a slightly flustered smile.
“Please don’t try to get out of bed without my help,” I tell him, leaning heavily on nurse Gemma again because Riggs just very casually talked about my pussy and I think it’s permanently altered my brain chemistry.
“The urinal is right there,” I tell him, pointing at what looks like an elongated, slightly curved jug, sitting on the nightstand.
“I’m an early bird, no matter what time I go to bed, but if you wake up before me and need something, call me. ”
“I remember.” Riggs watches me from the side of the bed, his dark gaze tracking me while I make my way toward the open doorway to the kitchen. “Good night, Gem.”
“’Night, Riggs.” I flash him another quick smile, on my way out the door.