Page 36 of Bad Pucking Roommate

I cast him a droll look. “I’m a hockey player.”

“Fair enough.” He chuckles softly. “If his headache gets worse he can have some Tylenol, and if he has trouble sleeping you can give him Melatonin but no other sleep aids of any kind. Normally, a grade two concussion wouldn’t leave him with any memory loss, but since thisisn’t his first, I wouldn’t be surprised if his memory is spotty the first day. If that continues I want you to notify me.”

I nod my head, never taking my eyes off Justus.Has he always been this attractive, or have I never taken the time to really study him until now?

“Why don’t you get changed while he rests,” the doctor suggests, “then I’ll help you get him to your car.”

The locker room is empty by the time I get there, thank God, and I take the world’s fastest shower and slip back into the training room before the guys in interviews come back to grab their gear. With the doctor’s help, the two of us get Justus into my car, and he seems to rest the entire fifteen-minute drive to my house.

Getting him inside by myself is a little trickier, but I manage, guiding him to my room and depositing him on the bed while I run him a bath. As the tub fills, I take off the shirt and shorts he wore under his uniform, trying to jostle him as little as possible as I remove the sweaty garments. He does his best to help, shifting his weight to give me more room to work, though the effort clearly wears on him. It makes my chest ache. A man as young as strong as Justus shouldn’t be exhausted by the act of getting undressed.

Once his clothes are off and in my hamper, I help him stand. “Where are we going?” he asks.

“You need a bath.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a sweaty fucker who stinks too bad to go straight to bed.”

He tries to laugh and ends up grimacing, which makes me feel like an ass.I wish I could punch Carson again.

Once he’s in the tub, Justus slouches down, resting his head on the towel draped over the edge. For several minutes, I sit on the floor,watching him breathe through his obvious discomfort. He squints even though his eyes are shut, so I dim the lights, reclaiming my seat as he finally opens them and blinks me into focus.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Making sure you don’t drown.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Probably not, but the doc said this isn’t your first head injury, so I’m supposed to be extra vigilant. Can you wash, or do you need my help?” I ask softly.

“I can do it.”

Keeping his head propped on the edge of the tub, Justus uses the washcloth I give him to clean his body, lifting first one arm, then the other, and slowly dragging the soapy fabric over it. As he moves to his brawny chest, water cascades over the taut, fair skin, highlighting the swell of muscle underneath. Despite the protective urges I’m feeling as I look at this capable man in obvious discomfort, I have a sudden impulse to lick the trickling drops. I settle for licking my lips instead since this isn’t the time to give in to my libido.

When he’s finished, Justus reaches for his hair but seems to have trouble lifting both arms over his head at once. Knocking his hands away, I opt to wash it for him, rubbing a small drop of shampoo in my palms before gently massaging his scalp. It’s not the first time I’ve had my fingers in his shaggy locks, but it is the first time my dick isn’t in his mouth while I do so, which means there’s nothing to distract me from noticing how soft the strands are. Or how his eyelids flutter slightly when my fingers graze his temple as I wash out the suds.

“Did that hurt?” I guide his head back to the edge of the tub, so it’s supported while he soaks.

“No. Did that?” His eyes fall to where my puffy red knuckles are resting on the fiberglass rim.

“Not really.”

“What happened?”

I run my finger over the scrapes with a heavy sigh. “What do you remember about the game?”

He grimaces slightly, and I have another urge to punch Carson.Again. “We were winning?”

“We were. Wedid.”I nod solemnly. “But we didn’t just have them by a few points. We were up five to one when you started to break away from Carson, and when he couldn’t stop you, he checked you into the boards.”

Justus nods like he’s following along, though I’m not sure he actually remembers any of this.

“It was a blind hit,” I continue, “and you had no way to defend yourself. You went down hard and didn’t move. Scared the shit out of me.” His eyes dart to my hand, which I now realize is clenched so tightly my red knuckles look almost white. “I sort of lost it and went after him.”

“Is it okay?” He runs his finger over the cuts that are just now starting to scab.

“It’s fine. I’m more worried about your head.” I have a desperate urge to shift the lock of hair hanging over his forehead, and it’s a bigger struggle than it should be not to touch it. I’m not sure if that’s because I like how his hair feels in my fingers, or because I want him to know I’m here. Not just as his teammate but as…something. Either way, I know better than to give in to the impulse, but I don’t like it. The only consolation I have is the satisfaction that I’m the one who gets to take care of him instead of some doctor he barely knows.

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