Chapter 33
THE HAND IN THE DARK
BJ
Naked girlfriend is a great motivator. I manage, much to my surprise, to catch her panties before they hit the ground. They’re basic seamless ones in navy. I toss them on one of the many piles of clothes on the floor and navigate my way around them, following Winter into the bathroom.
She’s already turned the water on, and there’s one of those special folding chairs that I associate with the elderly set up just outside it. On the counter are the supplies I need for bathing. The wound has to be covered with a waterproof wrap and taped around my leg so it doesn’t get wet.
My erection is already at full mast. Taking care of my situation over the past week hasn’t been easy, or high on my priority list. But with Winter gloriously naked, her long dark hair hanging in a braid over her shoulder, looking like everything I need, my body is suddenly very aware and very excited.
The tug around the injury isn’t as bad as it was a few days ago.
The first time I woke up with morning wood, I thought my leg was going to burst into flames, the pain was so blindingly awful. But it’s better now. Manageable.
“First things first. Brush your teeth, and then we can get you naked to wash the stink off.” She passes me my toothbrush and squirts some paste on it, then does the same for herself.
Once my mouth no longer tastes like a sewer, we tackle clothing removal.
She holds my crutches while I balance on my good leg and remove my shirt, then she passes them back so I don’t have to put all my weight on that leg for long.
She tugs my joggers over my hips and kneels to carefully pull them down my legs.
I’m not wearing underwear. They’re too much work to get on and off, and they rub on the injury.
She pats my erection, which is pointing straight at her. “I’ll take care of you as soon as you’ve been washed.” She looks up when my pants are around my ankles. “Do you want to sit down so I can get them off, or lift one foot and then the other?”
Sitting down and standing up is its own challenge. I’m already upright, so I might as well manage. “I can lift.”
We tackle the bad leg first, which is the easier of the two. Then I use my crutches to help take my weight for the other leg. Winter applies one of the patches to the wound site, tapes it down, and moves the chair into the shower. Then she helps me into it.
She uses the removable showerhead to wet my hair and lathers it up with shampoo, massaging my scalp.
“This feels damn well fantastic.”
“As long as you’re going to your classes, we can do it every day. Consider it a reward for good behavior.”
I grunt.
“We’re working out a schedule,” she informs me.
“Laughlin will take you to your morning class on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and I can cover your Tuesday and Thursday afternoon class. When we’re done here, we’ll bring your schedule next door and make sure you’re covered for physical therapy as well.
Your friends want to help, so let them.”
She rinses my hair and washes it a second time before she lathers up a body pouf and starts at my neck, rubbing slow circles on my skin.
Suds drip down my chest and arms. She takes her time, going over the same spots more than once, lingering on the places that make me groan, kneading the muscles in my neck and back that are stiff and sore from so much lying around.
She’s right. The only way forward is to start moving and stop feeling sorry for myself.
Eventually she comes to stand in front of me, drops to her knees, and starts working her way up my shins. I shift forward in the chair, parting my legs, anticipation building as she gets closer to my straining erection.
And then her soft, warm fingers circle the shaft. She squeezes gently and starts to stroke. I groan and soak her in, naked and gorgeous.
“Tell me if you need more pressure,” she murmurs.
“This is perfect.” I bite my lip. “The only thing that would make it better is if I could kiss you.”
She rises, curves her free hand around the back of my neck, and leans down. I tip my head back, and her lips brush over mine. “I’ve missed you,” she whispers. “I’ve missed touching you, hearing you groan my name. I’ve missed us.”
“Me too. Thanks for forcing me to get my head out of my ass.” I cup the back of her neck, parting my lips to invite her in.
Our tongues tangle as she continues to stroke me, steady and even, thumb sweeping over the piercing, circling it before she drags back down.
I get lost in the sensation, in the feel of her tongue sliding against mine, in her soft, needy sounds.
The orgasm hits me hard, tension causing a deep ache in my thigh, but the pleasure overshadows the discomfort.
She pulls back, a smile on her kiss-swollen lips. “Feel better?”
“So much better.” I trace the contour of her lip with my thumb. “I want to take care of you now, though.”
“You don’t need to do that. I can take care of myself later.”
“I’m sure you can, and at some point, I’d be more than happy to watch you, but I haven’t made you come in two weeks.” The last time was the day I had the accident. And it was the best sex of my entire life.
Her brow arches. “You’d be happy to watch, huh?”
She steps out of reach, then sits on the shower floor and parts her thighs.
“Come on, Snowflake. I want to help.”
“I’m sure you do.” She drags her fingers down her throat and circles a nipple. After giving her breast a rough squeeze, she smirks. “But that’s a reward you’ll have to earn.”
“Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it.” Any other time I’d launch myself across the shower and bury my face between her thighs. But I haven’t done anything but hobble-groan my way to the kitchen and back the last few days. I’m sorely regretting that now.
“That’s good to hear.” Her fingers drift down her stomach and circle her navel. “I’m looking forward to sitting on your face in the near future.”
“If you grab my crutches, I’ll get back into bed and give you a beard ride.”
She laughs. “Your sheets need to be changed, but thanks for the offer.” Her fingers glide lower, circling her clit before she eases two inside. Her head falls back, and she moans softly.
“Fuck me.” I’m already hard again. Obviously, I’m feeling better.
“It’ll probably be a while before you’re ready for that.” She withdraws her fingers and circles her clit again, adding a third finger. “But I’m sure we can be creative.”
“You’re not playing fair, Snowflake.”
“I know.” She grins. “You give me what I want, and you get what you want, which is me sitting on your face later.”
I stop pleading my case and enjoy the view. She’s damn well magnificent, and she’s mine. I murmur words of encouragement, telling her how sexy she is, how much I love the way she sounds when she comes, that I can’t wait to have the taste of her on my tongue again.
Her soft whimpers turn into needy moans.
I know she’s about to come when her hips start to roll, and she bites her lip, head thrown back as the orgasm sweeps over her.
I come again a few strokes later and sag in the chair.
Winter leans against the tile wall, a grin spreading across her face. “That was fun.”
“You should bring those fingers over here.”
“Should I, now?”
“Little added motivation, just to tide me over until I earn the right to the real thing.”
She withdraws her fingers from between her legs and moves across the shower to stand in front of me. She drags her index finger along her bottom lip, then leans in to kiss me. “How’s this?”
I catch it gently between my teeth and suck softly. “Best motivation ever.”
The water is starting to cool, so Winter turns the shower off and helps pat me dry before she hands me my crutches.
She wanders around my room naked, grabbing me fresh clothes and helping me into my pants before she gets dressed too.
She also changes my sheets and picks up all the random clothes scattered on the floor, tossing them into a laundry basket.
“I bet you’re hungry now, huh?”
I arch a brow. “You offering a pussy-buffet appetizer?”
She laughs. “That can be dessert, if you’re not in a food coma after dinner.” She opens my bedroom door. “Come on, let’s go hang out with our friends.”
“Hey. Hold on.” I grab her hand and tug her closer.
“What’s up?” She settles a hand on my chest.
My stomach flips with nerves, but I need to do this. I stroke a finger from her temple to her chin. “I love you too. So fucking much. I didn’t get the chance to tell you before,” I explain. “I wanted to say it back, but I didn’t get the chance.”
She laces her fingers with mine, her voice a whisper. “I didn’t realize you remembered that part.”
“I thought I dreamed it at first.”
“I needed you to know how I felt, just in case.” Her eyes turn glassy. “I was scared it was the only time I’d get to tell you I love you.”
“I couldn’t go anywhere without making sure you knew I felt the same way.”
I stop being a mopey asshole and start going to class again.
Getting around on crutches gets easier the more I move.
The shittiest part is how damn itchy the injury becomes as it heals.
And there’s nothing I can do about it, because so much of it is internal.
Thankfully, Winter proves to be excellent at distracting me when it gets particularly intolerable.
It’s Tuesday morning, and Quinn has the pleasure of driving me to class. I’m sitting at the kitchen table, shoveling cereal into my face while he polishes off leftover pasta Bolognese.
“How are classes?” he asks conversationally.
“Eh. Okay. I’m still playing catch up, and I’ve fallen way behind in Advanced Research Methods. I don’t know if I can recover enough to get the grade I need, but we’ve already passed the deadline to drop courses.”
“Given the circumstances, I’m pretty sure they’d make an exception if you need to go down to part-time this semester.
” He sets his fork on the edge of his plate and laces his hands behind his head.
“Your focus needs to be on recovery, not stressing about your grades. It’s better to keep the classes you’re doing well in and drop the ones you’re struggling with. ”
I nod. “I’ll make an appointment with my advisor, see if there’s anything they can do.”
“You won’t know unless you ask, right?” He picks up his fork again, spins more noodles, and taps his temple. “How you doing otherwise?”
“Okay mostly. The doctor said I can move from crutches to a cane.”
Quinn arches a brow. “I can actually see you rocking a cane.”
I laugh. “Winter said the same thing.”
“That girl is something else. You two seem solid.”
“We are. She’s been great about keeping me on track. Doesn’t let me get away with shit.” I duck my head and hide a grin.
Quinn chuckles. “You fit.”
We’re quiet for a minute and then he asks, “You got a timeline for getting back on the ice?”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I don’t know. I guess once I’m past the cane stage? I’m not in a rush to get back out there, though.”
“Any particular reason why?”
“First Caroline snaps her tendon, and then Adele almost ends my life. I feel…cursed, maybe?”
He nods. “I get that. I mean, I’m named after my uncle who was beaten to death in front of my dad.
I get that they wanted to pay homage or whatever, and it was meant to be a good thing, but a heavy weight comes with it.
” He pokes at his pasta. “Accidents happen on the ice all the time. People get hurt. Caroline’s family was a huge part of that problem.
If she’d been allowed to have a life outside of figure skating, she might not have been so dependent on you. ”
“I feel like what happened with me and Adele is partly my fault because I set so many parameters around our relationship.”
“Have you talked to her yet?” Quinn asks.
I shake my head. “She’s left a couple of voicemails, but I haven’t listened to them.”
“You need closure on this, BJ. Otherwise you’re just spinning worst-case scenarios in your head. You don’t have to do it now, but when you feel like you can handle it, have that conversation so you can move on.”
I run my hands through my hair. “You’re right. I know you’re right. I’m just…scared, I guess.”
“We all play a part, BJ. It doesn’t help to hold on to blame. Make peace with it, learn from it, and move on. The only way is forward.”