Page 58 of Tempting Wyatt
I moan softly when he helps me onto the ATV, and he glares as if my pain offends him personally.
“You’re hurting.”
It’s a statement of fact, not a question, so I say nothing. If I couldn’t smell the farm animals on me, I’d skip the shower, fall face down on the floor, and sleep on the plush rug.
“Ivy, look at me.”
Turning my head slowly, I meet his darkened gaze. “I’m fine. Hot shower will help.”
“Fine, my ass.” His brow dips inward. “Forget the shower. I’ll run you a bath. There should be Epsom salts in the cabin.”
Without another word, he cranks the ATV, and I hold on to him for dear life as we tear off toward my cabin. Every bump is an assault on my aching muscles.
Wyatt helps me inside, then disappears into the bathroom. I take the opportunity to collapse into a kitchen chair.
Every ligament and tendon in my body aches. The thought of getting undressed makes me want to weep.
With the sound of running water threatening to lull me to sleep, Wyatt reappears.
“Looks like you overdid it this week,” he says softly.
“Maybe just a little.” I don’t have the strength to argue.
I blink up at him as muscles I didn’t know I had pulse angrily beneath my skin.
“Let’s get you in the bath.”
His words rouse me from impending exhaustion. I regard him with wide eyes as he kneels down to remove my boots.
This view never gets old. This massive, powerful man, an indulgent display of tanned muscle, on his knees for me.
A new pulsing—one I didn’t expect to have the energy for—throbs between my thighs. The memory of our encounter in the barn breathes a fire of renewed energy into me.
A whimper escapes my lips. He mistakes it for pain as he pulls off my other boot.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Can you stand?”
I don’t even know at this point. But my knees are weak for reasons other than the ones he’s concerned about.
“I can try.”
He helps me up, and together, we remove my jeans and my shirt.
I try not to let it hurt my feelings when Wyatt averts his gaze.
“If you can remove the rest, I’ll help you to the tub.”
Swallowing thickly, I lower my underwear and step out of them before unclasping my bra and letting it fall to the floor. Goose bumps rise on every inch of my skin.
As exposed as I feel, there’s something else happening inside me. Something more than lust and desire warming my blood.
I can’t remember the last time someone took care of me.
I’ve gotten the flu a few times in my life. My mom was a leave-a-trash-can-by-the-bed-on-her-way-out-the-door kind of mom. And Malcolm would bail, saying he couldn’t risk getting sick and missing work.
My agent took me to the ER once when I had food poisoning, but other than that, I’ve always been on my own when I was under the weather.
Wyatt clears his throat and lifts me into his arms. Cradling my naked body, he carries me to the tub like I’m merely a doll.
