Page 66 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bargain

I’ve had enough dreams about this woman that I’ve woken with it hard and in my hand to last a lifetime, and in the tub, she kept looking at me in thatwaythat she always did in those fantasies.

This is reality.

And reality is always stark and cold.

Not warm and inviting, the way Camille’s arms would be.

I dry off my torso and wait for her to turn around again before I slide the soaked underwear off, letting them remain in the tub. Because there’s no way inhellI’m bending over to grab them.

It can wait ‘til tomorrow…

Wrapping the towel around my waist, I hold my breath for a moment, trying to ready myself for the inevitable jolt that will come with climbing over the edge.

Just do it.

I grit my teeth and swing one leg over, then the other, to stand on the bathmat she kneeled on. Keeping watch over me for so long. Ensuring I would take her advice, even when I never wanted her to see me like this.

Her stubbornness helped me today—something I’m sure she won’t ever acknowledge since she can’t seem to see that it isn’t a fault. Not by a longshot.

She finally turns to face me and leans against the counter, examining me with a keen, practiced eye that I’m sure sees everything I want to hide. “How are you feeling?”

I offer her a half smile that I hope does a good job of hiding my continued discomfort. “Better.”

“Pain level?”

“Six.”

Her eyes widen slightly. “Still?”

“But considering I was definitely at a tenplus, I’d have to say your little home remedy worked.” I move toward her cautiously. “This isbearable.”

Each step might send a little spark of agony up through my spine, but it’s not like I haven’t lived in constant pain for twenty years, anyway.

This is more of my normal end-of-the-day level.

One I’m used to and canmanage.

Her mouth twists, her lips pressed together in a way that screams she isn’t happy about the current situation. “What do you normally do when you’re like this?”

I lift one shoulder and let it fall as nonchalantly as I can. “Climb into bed. Getting horizontal and keeping the pressure off helps.”

“Then that’s what you should do.”

I nod. “That’s the plan.”

She watches me carefully for signs that I might be downplaying how bad it is, but I’ve been honest with her since I finally gave up trying to hide it. “I have a suggestion.”

My eyes drift over the sink. “I hope it’s not related to the bottles of pills that are in that cabinet.”

Camille shakes her head, shifting on her bare feet awkwardly. “No. Another pretty basic home remedy.”

“Okay…”

Why is she being so weird about this?

“If you’ll let me—”—she glances down at her hands, resting on her belly, and then back up at me—“if you’ll let me massage you, I could get more tension out of the muscle.”

Fuck.

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