Page 162 of A Forgotten Promise

I nod. “Yeah, I guess.” I fidget.

“Are you sure you don’t need the doctor?”

I chuckle. “Chill. I’ll call the nurse to help me.”

“Anything I can do?”

I sigh. “No. I need to go to the toilet. I hate that stupid bedpan, but they don’t want me to walk alone at night yet.”

“I’ll help you.”

The authority in his voice startles me. On impulse, I want to refuse just to make a point… Not sure what point exactly, but I really need to pee.

Also, having him here isn’t as weird as I feared. It actually is comforting.

“Okay.” I nod reluctantly.

I pull the heart monitor clip from my finger and shift to one side, so I can apply my weight on my healthy arm to sit.

I grunt. “Give me a moment.”

He practically vibrates with pent-up energy beside me as I attempt to push off the mattress again.

“Fuck it,” he growls, and scoops me up bridal-style. Carefully.

“You’re not a patient man, I take it.”

It was meant to be a reprimand, to assert my independence, but it comes out like a tease. Maybe because being in his arms distracts me, and not in the unwanted way.

His scent envelopes me with the same familiarity his presence does. It’s confusing, but I decide not to fight it.

I’ll be living with him—in his house—so I may as well lean into all the complicated emotions. Running away from them won’t help me sort things out.

“I’m learning,” he grumbles.

He puts me down gently by the toilet in a small hospital bathroom, but doesn’t move.

“Are you going to watch me?”

“Yes.”

He doesn’t even flinch, just leans in the doorway looking like a god of sin. My pussy clenches with appreciation. Really?

Sighing, I sit down and pee, hoping the gown is covering me enough to retain some modesty.

“Have you watched me in the bathroom before?”

“Yes.” A playful smirk ghosts his worry-stricken face, and God, I want to see more of it.

“Do you have some strange peeing kink?”

The question wipes out his grin, and I regret bringing awkwardness into this.

But when I look up, his gaze meets mine, full of heat and something else I can’t decipher.

“I have a you kink,” he drawls, and I swear his words have a direct line to my core.

I’m in the most un-sexy position, and yet I feel like a goddess under his dangerous scrutiny. I might not remember being his wife, but my body hums with… Is it recognition? Or is it just chemistry?

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