Another small, needy whimper escaped me as my walls tightened around his fingers, clearly desperate for that as well.

“But not yet,” he said. “Right now, I want to feel you tremble under my touch, to hear you moan my name.”

As if on cue, a low moan escaped me as his fingers and palm worked me just right at the same moment.

Listening to my response, Dav continued that exact movement and pace until I was trembling as hard as he wanted, until my moans were filling the air around us, until he was pushing me right to that edge.

“That’s it,” he said. “Just like that. Come for me,” he demanded. “I want to hear you cry out my name.”

Another stroke of his fingers had me pushed over that edge, free falling into the orgasm that had me crying out, choking out his name as I struggled to find my breath while I crashed over and over again.

It took all of, I don’t know, two-point-five seconds after the post-orgasm fog evaporated for me to realize how epically I had just fucked things up by allowing that to happen.

“And there she goes,” Dav said, voice tighter than usual.

I wanted to ask what that meant, what had put so much defeat in his voice. That desire was exactly why I wasn’t going to let myself ask, though.

His fingers slid out of me, and he waited for my gaze to find his before he stepped back to slip his fingers into his mouth, tasting me.

The low rumbling sound he made then damn near had me begging him to take me right then and there, all my pain be damned.

But his fingers slid out of his mouth, and he moved away from me, leaving me to yank my panties the rest of the way up with my one good hand.

I wanted to drape my arm across myself again, to create a physical boundary because of the confusion I felt surrounding my emotions right then.

But I couldn’t let Davide know he’d gotten to me.

I let my arms hang by my sides as he came back to me, his gaze on mine, his hands holding a fresh roll of elastic bandages.

“Arms up, love,” he said, and my heart swooped and soared at that word, at the gentle way he’d said it.

But I couldn’t have that.

So I broke those wings mid-flight, and lifted my arms in such a way to get them out of the way and hide my chest as he wrapped me up tightly, a sensation that made the pain worse for a while, but as soon as he was done, helped it ease to a tolerable ache.

The shirt came next, and I was thankful for another layer of protection against both our desires.

My gaze lowered as he reached to zip up the oversized sweatshirt, and I could still see the thick, hard outline of him beneath his pants.

I was surprised how strong the urge was to reach out, to stroke the length of him, to slip under the waistband of his pants to feel his velvety skin and the thickness of him in my palm.

But that was exactly why I stepped back as soon as my zipper was in place.

“Do you have that other brace?” I asked, proud of how unaffected my voice sounded when I was anything but that.

“Sure,” he said, and I felt his gaze on my profile for a long moment before he moved out of the room to fetch it.

Alone, I moved in front of the mirror, looking at the punching bag of a face I was sporting.

“Get it together,” I whispered.

Because whether I liked it or not, for the time being, I really needed to be here. I needed the help he was eager to give.

And I needed to not let anything like that happen again.

He came back with the new brace, slipping it carefully on as I tried not to curse too much as he jostled my aching wrist.

“Go on and sit on the couch,” he said. “I have to get the brush and detangling solution. And toss the sheets in the dryer. I’ll probably still beat your slow ass out there,” he teased.