Page 49 of After All

When the chair was finally clean enough, she yelled, “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

He started down the hall, but she brushed past him on her way to the kitchen again. “I’m on my own after all?” he asked.

“Just getting the plastic wrap.”

“The what?” he asked, turning back.

“We have to wrap your dressings so they don’t get wet.” She bent and retrieved the roll from his bottom drawer.

He took in the sight of her perfect ass in those fitted leggings and again cursed this idea that she wanted to make him feel special. He had some very specific, very special suggestions for her.

But when she straightened and gave him a soft smile and said, “I do really like being here to help you,” his heart warmed and he felt some of his own stubbornness fade. This was a side of Peyton he knew was there—the soft, caring, sweet side—and that he really did want to see more of.

But he knew her. And he knew that about half of this sweet, big-eyed, I’m-all-about-you stuff was bullshit. But only half of it. And the half that was real, made him very, very happy.

“I’ll meet you in there?” he asked.

“Right behind you.”

In the bathroom, he found the chair in the tub and the showerhead was hanging from a long tube. “What’s this?”

“It’s a detachable showerhead,” she said, giving him a look.

“Well, yeah, but I don’t have a detachable showerhead.”

She rolled her eyes. “You do now.”

“You got me a new showerhead?”

“Well you can’t get fully under the spray.” She gave him a nudge. “Sit down.”

“Did you install it?” he asked, sliding onto the chair.

“I did.”

“You know how to do that?”

“Well, fortunately, they had pictures on the box,” she said dryly.

So, she’d thought of, bought and installed the showerhead. Scott wasn’t sure why he felt so stunned by that.

Maybe because he’d installed a new showerhead for her about a year ago.

“Prop your leg on the toilet.”

He did, and she quickly wrapped plastic around his dressings, seemingly completely ignoring the fact that his cock wasright there. And pretty happy to see her.

Then she picked up the showerhead and pointed it at his other leg. The towel got wet quickly, molding to everything underneath, but again Peyton seemed oblivious. She soaped his leg, then rinsed it, soaped an arm, then the other, then his back.

He groaned as her hands slid over his shoulders and neck. In part because he was trying to drive her nuts, part because it really did feel amazing.

“Stop it.”

“Can’t.” He let his head fall forward.

Her hands rubbed up and down his neck again, kneading and eliciting another moan. She shampooed his hair, rinsed and then handed him the soap.

“What’s this?”

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