Page 24 of Honey Heat
“Your sister?” Ethan asked quietly.
Lucio nodded, setting the glass of water and pills on the coffee table. “Kayla. That was taken about a month before the accident.”
“She was beautiful.” Ethan’s eyes were soft with compassion. “You look happy together.”
“We were.” Lucio sat on the edge of the couch, careful not to jostle his mate. “She was smart. Funny. Could kick my ass at video games and never let me forget it.”
Ethan smiled. “She sounds amazing.”
“She would have liked you.” A lump formed in Lucio’s throat. He would’ve given anything to introduce his mate to Kayla. While their parents weren’t the best, his sister had been. After she died, his dad tried to put the blame on Lucio’s shoulders, saying he should’ve kept a better eye on her.
“Hungry?” He cleared his throat, needing to change the subject before he started crying on the fucking couch.
“Starving,” Ethan replied. “Clinic food gets old fast.”
Heading to the kitchen, Lucio rummaged through his refrigerator, grateful he’d gone shopping recently. “How does pasta sound? I make a decent marinara.”
“Sounds amazing.” Ethan had joined him, his backpack right back in his arms. “I should probably get out of these scrubs. I feel ridiculous. I don’t even know why Dr. Martinez let me leave in it.”
Neither did Lucio, but damn if Ethan didn’t look good with his ass hanging out of the back. “Need help?”
A blush crept up Ethan’s neck. “I think I can manage. Unless you’re offering to undress me?”
“Don’t tempt me, hermoso.” Lucio’s voice dropped lower. He would love nothing more than to strip his mate naked, but Ethan was hungry, so food would come first.
Ethan’s blush deepened, and he ducked his head. “Right. I’ll just... go change then.” He turned suddenly, nearly colliding with the wall.
Lucio winced as Ethan gently smacked the wall, as if silently scolding it for being there, then hurried away.
Lucio watched him go, admiring the way his mate moved, his gaze zeroed in on the sway of his osito’s hips. Once Ethan disappeared into the bathroom, Lucio went to the kitchen to prepare dinner.
As he started gathering ingredients, he heard a thump from the bathroom, followed by a muffled curse.
“Ethan?” Lucio called, already moving down the hallway. “You okay?”
“Fine! Just—” Another thump. “Damn it.”
Lucio knocked on the door. “Need some help?”
A pause then a resigned sigh. “Yes. Please.”
Opening the door, Lucio found Ethan standing in his boxers, scrubs discarded on the floor, trying unsuccessfully to pull a T-shirt over his head with his bandaged hands. The sight of his mate’s bare torso, lean and toned despite the fading bruises, made Lucio’s mouth go dry.
“Having trouble?” he asked, keeping his voice light as he stepped closer.
“These stupid bandages,” Ethan muttered, frustration evident in his voice. “I can’t grip anything properly.”
“Let me.” Lucio took the shirt from him and carefully guided it over Ethan’s head, then he helped thread Ethan’s arms through the sleeves. His fingers brushed against warm skin, and he felt Ethan shiver at the contact. “There we go.”
“Thanks.” Ethan looked up at him, their faces now inches apart in the small bathroom. “This is embarrassing.”
“Nothing to be embarrassed about,” Lucio assured him, reaching for the sweatpants on the counter. “Everyone needs help sometimes.”
He knelt down, holding the pants open so Ethan could step into them. His mate placed his hands on Lucio’s shoulders for balance, and Lucio tried not to think about how intimate this position was—him on his knees, helping Ethan dress.
Slowly, he pulled the sweatpants up, his knuckles grazing the soft skin of Ethan’s thighs. He heard his mate’s breath catch, felt the slight tremble in his fingers where they gripped Lucio’s shoulders.
“There,” Lucio said, standing up once the pants were in place. “All dressed.”
