Page 57 of Fight For Us
“Yeah, my mom texted. All is well.” I ran a hand through my hair, releasing it from the hair tie. “I’ll go use the bathroom now.”
Leaning on the edge of the vanity, I gave myself a pep talk.Do not look at her body. It’s sleep time. That’s all.I splashed water on my face and ran a brush through my hair before retying it up. As I brushed my teeth, I thought about her lips and how fucking good she tasted. How she moaned when my tongue touched hers. Shit, now my cock was hard as a rock. I couldn’t go out there like that.
But after five minutes of willing my brain to think of other things, it was no use. This night was the definition of whiplash, and apparently even my dick was confused.
I opened the door, and thank God, she’d turned off the lights except for a small table lamp on the nightstand. “How’s the bed?”
“Scratchy and lumpy, but could be worse.” She pulled the comforter up to her chest and sighed.
I plopped on the bed and laid on top of the blankets. “You forgot to mention the musty smell.”
“I was trying to think of the positives.” She rolled to face me, but I knew if I looked at her gorgeous face in the dim light I’d lose any hope of calming my dick down. Instead, I tried to find shapes in the popcorn ceiling. “You didn’t change?”
“I usually sleep in my boxers,” I said. “I figured that would make you uncomfortable.” I focused extra hard on the ceiling and finally found a menacing looking face in the bumps.
“Oh.” She fidgeted beside me, moving her legs under the blanket. “You should get comfortable. Seriously, however you normally sleep is fine with me.” I huffed a laugh. “What? I’m serious! And get under the covers, you’re being a weirdo.”
“Fine, but turn off the light.”
She reached over and clicked the light off, blanketing the room in darkness, except for the occasional flashes of headlights from the interstate peeking through the curtains.
“Better?” she asked.
“Yup.” I pulled my shirt off and tossed it on the floor first, then hesitated.
“Do you normally sleep with your prosthesis on?”
“Depends,” I said. It had been years since anyone other than my family and doctors had seen me without my prosthesis. Not since right after the accident, but even then, I rarely left the house. It took years for me to gain a small fraction of my confidence back.
“Wes,” she said softly, settling her palm on my bicep. “I want you to be comfortable. Please.”
Fuck. She sounded so damn sweet and her hand on my arm was too distracting. “I normally take it off.”
“I thought so,” she said. “Do you need any help?”
Not with my leg.I smirked and shook my head. “I’ve got it.” I tried not to let those fuckwads words get into my head as I satup and pulled it off. Olivia tried to pretend she wasn’t watching me, but I could see her glance over every few seconds.
“Does it ever hurt?” Her soft voice broke through my thoughts.
“Sometimes. My hips and back hurt a lot after long hours at work but as far as my residual limb goes, I don’t have as much pain there anymore. It took a bunch of adjustments to my prosthesis to get the right fit.” I slipped my liner off and ran my hand over my scars, massaging the area gently. Sometimes I needed that reconnection after wearing my prosthesis for a long time. Finally, I slid my shorts down and added them to the pile on the floor.
“Better?”
“Much,” I said with a sigh.
“Wes? You said Dylan passed eight years ago?”
“I did,” I answered, wondering where she was going with the question.
She rolled onto her side and propped her arm under her pillow. “Wasn’t your accident eight years ago?”
“It was.” My throat dried up. After the night we’d had I didn’t think I could talk about the accident. Not fully. It was as if I could hear her thoughts. Sense the questions forming on the tip of her tongue. “Goodnight, Tiger.”
“Oh,” she said. “I’m keeping you up. Sorry.” Bright lights from trucks passing by the window flashed by. I closed my tired eyes against the glare and felt myself drifting. “Goodnight, Wes. Thank you.”
Chapter 24
Olivia
