Page 9 of Filthy and the Beast

“I’m walking down the hallway. And now I’m walking into this open door with the steam rolling out of it,” he narrates loudly, rounding his way into the bathroom. His gaze immediately falls on me, contorted and growling, and he freezes.

His eyes fly across my old, battered body. Shock is the only emotion I recognize before Damian throws his eyes toward the ceiling and holds a hand out to block the view.

“And averting my eyes. Averting my eyes from the naked man.”

Horrified by every second, I suck in a deep breath. “Towel,” I grunt.

Damian fumbles around. “Right. Towel! A little modesty for your sledgehammer, right?” He winces, regretting that last part, but I can’t think clearly enough to respond.

“Here we go!” Damian throws me a hand towel. Just as quickly, he turns and cranks off the shower. “Cover up your bathing suit area, yeah? Reggie taught me how to help you stand, and…” His eyes drift down, closer to me. “Whoa. You really got yourself in a pickle.”

I drop the towel over my dick. Plenty of men have seen me naked in the gym showers, but somehow, Damian's gaze feels loaded.

It’s not that he’s gay. Or at least I assume he is. Reggie’s gay. Doesn’t bother me one bit. Except for Nat, I’ve never spent much time with gay people, but I’m not such an insecure prick I have a problem with a gay guy seeing me bare.

It’s just… something about Damian.

“Wow. Your face is really twisted up.” Squatting, Damian extends an elbow. He’s wearing an over-sized t-shirt, like a sleeping dress. Whatever they’re called.

Pajamas.

I squint. “When I try to stand,” I manage through gritted teeth, “my back spasms.”

Rolling his eyes, Damian continues to squat, elbow at my face. “No surprise there. I told you I’d scrub your back, but I guess you had to do it yourself. At least this is a walk-in shower, but you could have hit your head. Should have told me it was bath time.”

None of his business. Why does he care? I’ve hit my head so many fucking times.

I take a deep breath and grab his elbow. “Steady,” I tell him.

As I use his weight, Damian’s slim muscles tense. My back spasms, but stabilized, I don’t immediately fall down. Instead, I groan through the pain and keep pushing as Damian rises with me.

“Good, good, good,” he encourages. “Breathe. Straighten your back. Nice and easy.”

My foot slips on the wet tile. I lurch forward. As Damian catches me, the towel falls to the ground, leaving my dick dangling.

“Fuck!”

“I got you.” Damian's sweet as pie, although his voice strains. His shoulder presses against my chest and his arm around my waist, barely keeping me steady.

As he hoists me, my dick touches his leg.

Fuck.

I feel weird.

“Can you take a step forward?” My bulky chest muffles his gentle voice. “Get out of the shower?”

I grunt as I do, and my dick brushes his hip.

“Sorry,” I manage.

“Enzo!” He laughs, still holding me. “You’re not supposed to acknowledge it. That makes everything awkward.”

My cheeks flame. I’m wet and wracked with pain, and now he’s got me flustered, too? What the fuck?

His body feels slight against mine, but surprisingly strong, too. He’s warm and soft all over. His breath is steady with the rise and fall of his chest, and his hair brushes against my face, tickling me.

Smells like the woods after a rain. Sweet rain.

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