Chapter 5 #2
My whole body shook with Stefan's laughter. “It's not great,” he answered with a huge smile on his face.
I smacked his shoulder playfully. “Be nice, or I'll take my hand away.”
He laughed again and walked us through the bathroom door, past the tub, and into the enormous shower. After he set me down, he ordered, “Arms up.” My arms shot up, and his hands grasped the hem of my T-shirt.
And lifted.
Stefan carefully pulled it up and over my arms, paying particular attention to the hand with the IV in it. He tossed the shirt onto the bathroom floor and knelt in front of me. His fingers curled around the waistband of—
Wait.
I stared down at what I had on. “Where did those come from?” I asked, confused. Because I was wearing a pair of panties. Really great ones, too. White lacy ones.
“They were in your luggage. Giselle and Eve packed them.”
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't remember Stefan putting them on me. But he must have.
He pulled them down my legs as I asked, “Are there any more left?”
Stefan threw the panties on top of the T-shirt on the floor. He gazed up at me. “There are. Don't worry, you won't have to steal another pair of my shorts,” he said with a half-grin on his handsome face.
“The suitcase was too heavy. And then I was too tired to walk the mile back to search through it after my bath.”
Stefan shut his eyes and sighed, letting his head droop forward. Then he stood and hugged me. “I should have been here to help you. I'm sorry, Francesca.”
I held onto him, sniffing his delicious cedary scent. “It's okay,” I lied. Because it wasn't okay. At least now he knew it.
“No, it isn't,” he mumbled, his hands rubbing my back. It felt good to be in his arms again. “Sit down and I'll turn on the water,” he instructed, and yanked a small chair over that I hadn't noticed.
“Is this wood?” My fingers touched the chair while Stefan turned around and started the shower. “It might get wrecked in the water. I can stand up—” I started saying, but he glared at me over his shoulder.
“Sit the fuck down, Francesca. Before I spank your ass. You're not standing.”
Warm water spurted out of the huge showerhead above us. But I was still thinking about what he'd just said to me. My lower belly instantly clenched at the thought of him—spanking me.
What was wrong with me? Maybe I still had a fever or something.
“Give me your arm,” he urged. There was a nice, soapy shower sponge in his hand. So, I gladly did what he asked.
And it felt wonderful. He gently scrubbed every inch of me before starting on my hair. Which was a complete and utter rat's nest. He even stepped out at one point and grabbed a hairbrush to get the conditioner through.
“One more rinse,” he said, and helped me stand. “Are you okay on your own?” he asked in a cautious tone.
I nodded and said, “I'm fine.” I thought he was going to leave me in the shower—but then he knelt down.
“Spread for me,” he ordered, one hand between my thighs.
“Stefan, I—” I protested, but he insisted.
“Open your legs.” His tone and demeanor told me he meant business.
So—once again, I did what he asked.
And he soaped me up and rinsed me clean.
Then he soaped me up again.
And it felt—good.
Really, really, really good. The way the soft shower sponge rubbed over my sensitive spots was—nice.
“Do you like that, Francesca?” Stefan peered up at me as he rinsed the soap from between my legs.
I bit my lip and nodded. “Yes.”
He smiled and stood. “I'll get you a towel,” he said, and turned off the water. He'd kept his boxer briefs on the entire time. Although right now, the front of them bulged out a lot more than it had before. And that gave me an odd sense of satisfaction.
He walked back into the shower with two towels. First, he wrapped one around my body. Then he wrapped one around my head.
“Come.” He grabbed my hand. “I'll dry your hair.”
That sounded—fantastic.
I loved my hair, but—oh, my gosh, it took forever to dry.
“It's fine. I can do it myself,” I told him, but still hoped he'd do it for me.
Stefan frowned before going back into the shower for the chair.
“Sit,” he said once he set the chair down close to the vanity. I gladly obeyed him and thought this might be the one and only time anyone ever did this for me. He had no idea how long it took for my hair to dry. He was going to regret offering to do this for me.
“I'll be right back. I need to change first,” he said and pulled a dry towel off the rack on his way out.
The mirror caught my eye—and I stared at the pale, sickly looking woman looking back at me.
Yikes.
It was a miracle Stefan hadn't run screaming.
I ran my tongue over my teeth and cringed.
“Yuck.” I stood and searched through the drawers for a toothbrush.
There were plenty of new ones in the drawer by the sink.
It didn't take me long to pull one out of its box and use it after I flossed.
My mouth finally felt fresh and clean again—but I still used mouthwash just in case.
“Better?” Stefan's voice caught me off guard, and I jumped slightly.
“My breath won't kill you now.”
He let out a laugh and walked up to me. “Let's test it out, shall we?” His hands landed on my shoulders and gently turned me around. My legs felt fine, but the way he was looking at me definitely made my knees wobble. His eyes focused on my mouth—and then he leaned in and kissed me.
All on their own, my hands traveled up his chest and behind his neck, holding him to me. I'd missed his kisses. And after he'd stormed off the other day, I wasn't sure he'd ever kiss me again.
“Still alive,” he mumbled against my mouth with a small smile. “Looks like the killer breath is gone.”
Unfortunately, he'd put clothes on. A brown button-down and dark brown pants. I wasn't sure I'd ever get used to seeing Stefan in such nice clothes. The only thing I saw him in before was a hospital gown and then his one set of clothes at my apartment.
“Sit, and I'll dry your hair.”
I bit my lip and looked at him. “Are you sure?” I questioned him, but sat down, anyway. There was no way I was giving up an offer like this. Even if he only got it partially dry, that would be a huge bonus for me. And my arms. “I haven't had a haircut in a while. It takes forever to dry.”
In the mirror, I saw him smile as he pulled a hairdryer out of a drawer. “I'll take that risk.”
I laughed and shook my head. “Fine, but you might regret it later.”
His eyebrows rose, and our eyes met in the mirror. “I regret very little in my life.” Somehow, his gaze held mine as something deeper exchanged between us in that moment.
“Turn,” he said, moving my head as he took the towel off. And then he started drying my hair.
A minute later, he shut it off. “Shit. Hang on,” he said and headed back into the shower. He picked up the hairbrush he'd left in there and came back out to brush my still very wet hair.
The one thing that really amazed me was how gentle he was. Especially for a man who likely never had long hair before. I couldn't see Stefan with long hair. He was definitely a clean-cut, short hair kind of guy. Maybe he'd had practice on his niece’s hair. Daniella had a beautiful mane.
A good ten minutes later—Stefan turned the hairdryer off and set it on the counter. Our eyes met in the mirror, and he said, “I'm afraid it might overheat.”
We both laughed, and I shrugged. “I warned you.”
His eyes danced. “That you did, Francesca. That you did.” He started walking away and said, “Stay here. I'll get you something to wear.”
Now, I can't say I was ungrateful for all the pampering. Because I loved it more than I wanted to admit. But I was certain I could now walk on my own. So, a few seconds later, I followed him out of the bathroom, into the bedroom, and directly to the closet. He must've stuck the suitcases in here.
But when I saw him reach up into the closet and grab a hanger down, I gasped. There was an entire row of women's clothing that hadn't been there earlier.
“Did I not tell you to stay sitting?” He turned around with a gorgeous gold nightie in his hand.
I sighed and rolled my eyes. “I'm not an invalid. I can walk,” I said, but kept my eyes on the nightgown. It was beautiful.
“We really need to work on your listening skills, Francesca.” For some reason, the tone of his voice combined with his words created some kind of powerful, sexual ache between my legs. And I didn't quite understand why he had this kind of effect on me. Or what it meant.
“Maybe we need to work on your listening skills,” I shot back at him.
He let out a low laugh and removed the nightie from the hanger. “That mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble.” Stefan returned the hanger to its spot and stepped toward me. His hand quickly undid my towel, and I let it fall to the floor. He arranged the nightie over my head.
It felt luscious as it floated down my skin. I touched it carefully with my fingers. “I've never felt anything so soft.”
Stefan's hands landed on my arms. He let them glide down to my hands. “It's not remotely as soft as you.” He held my hands in his, and we looked each other in the eye for a long moment.
I bit my lip and smiled at him. “Giselle and Eve have great taste.”
That devilish smirk was back. “As do Nick and Carlo.”
I smiled at his insinuation. Because I guess that was true, too. Nick and Carlo definitely had great taste in women.
Stefan turned around and opened one of the drawers beside us. He pulled out a pair of white panties. They looked expensive to me. Not like the cheap cotton ones I bought on sale. “Is that your favorite color?” I gazed into the drawer, seeing many more white panties in there.
“I'll have to see them on first.” He chuckled and knelt in front of me.
This man was too much. I could surely put my own panties on. Even so, I stepped into them as he pulled them up my legs. He lifted the bottom of my nightie as he went. Then he held the hem in his hands as he observed my underwear.
“Yes,” he said, and then shocked me by leaning forward and kissing me—right there. “I believe this is my favorite color now.”
The heat from his mouth made something pulse directly beneath his lips. He gazed up at me and grinned before standing. “All right. Let's go finish your hair.” He bent like he was going to pick me up again.
But I stepped back. “I can walk on my own.” I moved backward and held my hands up to him. “Seriously. I'm okay.”
Stefan's eyes narrowed as he set his hands on his hips. “Francesca,” he said in warning, but I swiveled around and took off, hurrying to the bed.
Of course, Stefan followed me. I snapped the IV connector back to my hand and sat down. “See? I'm fine.” I gave him a wide smile.
“Oh, we are definitely going to work on your listening skills, Francesca.” Stefan walked to the side of the bed. “Your hair isn't dry yet.” His eyes looked at my half-dry hair.
I sighed. “It takes forever. I'll let it air dry for a while. So, I don't break your hairdryer.”
He pursed his lips and swallowed. “Definitely need to work on your listening skills,” he mumbled before drawing the covers over me. “But for now, you need to rest.” He bent and kissed me. “What would you like? More water? Juice?”
I thought about it for a moment. “Um, an ice pop? That really seemed to hit the spot.”
He laughed and kissed me again. “Done.”
After he left, I lay back and closed my eyes—and smiled to myself. A good shower could always make you feel better. I'd witnessed it many times at the hospital. And right now, I totally felt rejuvenated. Clean hair.
Clean body.
Clean teeth.
And a gorgeous, lush bed to sink into and relax. The IV would do its job while I lay here in the lap of luxury.