Page 92 of Daddy's Bodyguard

She kisses my forehead though and works on packing up for me. Injured or not, seeing her bend over in that skirt as it drags up her thighs gives me a very healthy, doctor approved reaction.

“What a view.”

She stands, looks around, then swats me playfully. “You’re going to be impossible to live with.”

“So much for going slow.”

Her eyes flick to me and then away as she blushes. Oh yeah, I remember that whole conversation. I remember her telling me she loves me. I remember her holding my hand, her not wanting to leave at the end of visiting hours. I remember her arguing with a nurse outside my room before coming back in, flipping her hair, and sitting on my bed, asking me what I wanted to watch.

Just like I remember inviting her to lay down with me and her being afraid she’d hurt me.

“One bed at your place, right?” I push.

“And a whole lot of stairs.” She grumbles. “The elevator had better be working or-”

“Take it easy, Tiger.” I rub her hand. “We can handle it. I’m not helpless and neither are you.”

It does take work to get to her place. Moving from the wheelchair to the car isn’t easy. Sofia yells at the wheelchair since it doesn’t want to fold, then does the same thing when we arrive at her place.

It’s immaculate as expected, but I see that her shoes are now in a messy line instead of perfectly against the baseboard. She points out where the rooms are, and I nod, just watching her move around.

“Um, Kingston is going to get a bag from your place and bring it over. I bought some sweats and stuff that should be your size if Daisy’s right about it. Do you want anything?”

“You, on my lap,” I reply, not holding back my dirty grin.

She rolls her eyes and watches me move to the couch. I sigh as I sit down. I love not being in the hospital. I love not having nurses and doctors up my ass. A long recovery, probably, but being here is more than worth it.

Sofia sits next to me and turns my head to face her, kissing me softly. I kiss her back, running my hand over her cheek and into her hair. She pecks me a few more times and then leans against my shoulder.

The first few days are slow. Everything is exhausting. Moving from lying down to standing is a painful workout. So I do it more when Sofia isn’t around. I look forward to Daisy coming every other day to check on me and help me with physical therapy. I love Sofia to death, but I can’t stand when she treats me with kid gloves. She won’t allow me to push through the pain.

But Daisy can’t come over today, so I’m stuck with being handled like a five-year-old. I suffer through the ten-minute walk through the apartment where she insists on holding my hand all the way. Finally we’re done, and I plop down on the couch, sweat running down my face like I had just gone for a 5k sprint.

“I think I’m ready for that bath now,” I mumble, placing my feet on the coffee table. It takes me an instant to realize Sofia hasn’t answered me at all. I twist in my seat to find her sitting at the breakfast counter typing on her laptop. “Cupcake?”

“The remote is right next to you,” she says, her eyes still glued to the screen. “If not, it might have fallen between the cushions.”

“I’d like to shower.”

She freezes, swallows, then shuts her laptop. “I can call Daisy or-”

“Is there a reason you’d prefer she washes me?”

“Because we’re not ready to shower together when you’re still in pain.” She blushes but sucks her bottom lip.

“Is that why I went to my last doctor appointment with Daisy too? Did you need to take care of yourself?” I tease.

She points at me. “You’re going to regret that. Because I’m going to tell you no. No sex for six weeks. Minimum. That’s what the doctor said.”

“Don’t remind me,” I huff.

She gets me into the shower still wearing her underwear; sexy cotton panties and a bikini top. One fucking pull on a string, and she’d be topless. It’s tempting as hell. I wash as much of myself as I can, namely my semi-hard cock, abdomen, and most of my chest, then all I can do is watch Sofia washing the rest of me.

She slowly rubs my shoulders, along my neck and sides, my arms. I lean down, pressing my forehead to hers. She breathes a deep sigh and hesitates before kissing me. I tease her with my tongue, and she groans. “Don’t.”

“I’m walking. You promised.”

She hesitates again, holding my hips, then stands on her toes to kiss me harder. Her tongue strokes into my mouth, and I feel her moan as I answer her. We make out in the shower, her soapy hands on my hips, her tongue turning me to jelly. That little whimper she gives makes me hard.

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