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“You can barely move, so how do you expect to shower?”

Why am I fighting with him about this? I sound like a perv wanting to see him naked, not that it was the first time. But I don’t think he realizes that.

“We—well, I’m… honestly, I’m not sure. But I’m a grown adult; I’ve showered on my own plenty of times. I–I don’t need you.”

My head tilts to the side, waiting for him to come to his senses.

“I don’t,” he pouts.

“Fine, then take off your shirt, show me you can.”

Noah narrows his eyes, pain flicking between them as he uses his right hand to grab the bottom of his shirt. He lifts it midway before he huffs, realizing he can’t get the wife beater off without taking the sling off. I watch as he tries a few more times before he finally gives up.

“I can do it,” Noah mumbles.

“I know you can,” I find myself saying. Stepping forward, Noah eyes me as I reach forward. Opening the top drawer, I grab the pair of scissors and grab the bottom of his shirt.

“Well, if I knew you were going to just cut it… I could’ve done that.”

I don’t bother saying anything. He could’ve done this, and I’m sure if he put his mind to it, he could shower. But some sick part of me wants to touch him.

I cut up his shirt and then I peel it off him as gently as I can. He grimaces in pain when I move it off his left shoulder.

“I need to check your sutures,” I warned him. Noah bit down on his lip, my eyes trailing every inch of his face. He doesn’t protest, so I take that as my cue to carry on. Slowly, I pull the medical tape down and remove the gauze from his shoulder.

“No sign of infections, which is good.” I tell him quietly. Moving around to his back, I gently remove the tape on the back side and pull the gauze down. Tossing it into the trash, I look over the exit wound. Lightly probing the surrounding area, Noah hisses out in pain.

“I’m sorry. There’s no infection. After your shower, I’ll get you another round of meds.”

“No more pain meds,” Noah rushes out.

“You’re going to need it. But I was talking about antibiotics.”

“You have those?” Noah asks, peering over his shoulder at me.

“Mhm,” I hum. “Let me know if the pain gets any worse. You should be okay.”

“Should be?” He jerks forward, forgetting about his arm for a second. He cries out, grabbing hold of the counter.

“You need to be careful,” my voice came out harsher than I intended. “Come on, let’s get you in the shower.”

Noah takes a deep breath, nodding his head in agreement. I back away and take a few steps over to the shower. Reaching over, I turn the sprayer on before returning to Noah’s side. Looping a finger in his waistband, neither of us comments when his breath hitches. I pull his boxers down to his feet.

“Can I… Can I, uh, lean on your shoulder?”

I glance up, only for my gaze to land on his dick. Logically I should have known where my head was, but something about being around Noah makes me think with the last two brain cells.

“Reed.” Noah whines. I cough it up to him being in pain and not the fact I’m watching his cock pulse right in front of me.

“Uh, yeah, yeah. Use my shoulder,” I barely manage to get the words out. My eyes travel down his leg as he places his right hand on my shoulder. Pulling the boxers over his feet, I toss them towards the door.

Doing my best to not stare at his dick, I climb to my feet and grab his right hand. Slowly I pull him towards the shower. Reaching over, I move the sprayer so it’s hitting the wall. Noah grabs my shoulder and steps over the lip into the shower.

I stretch my arm out to grab the sprayer and run the warm water on his skin. Noah groans, a small smile spreading across his lips. Once he’s wet, I hang the sprayer back up and grab the loofah. Pouring some body wash onto it, I begin lathering his right shoulder, working my way to his back. Noah’s muscles are stiff at first, but the more I move the loofah around his body, the more he relaxes.

I shouldn’t be doing this, but trying to convince myself that I didn’t want him was tearing me apart.

It was like seeing him like this—tired, hurting—I felt everything inside me shift. It was dangerous to have these feelings for him. But the aching pull I had to him was unbearable. Every ounce of me knew I needed to stop having these feelings, to shove everything down where it belonged. But my heart couldn’t let me. My chest aches when I think about leaving him. The idea of him going to Florida like he wants makes me feel like I’m going insane. I want to tie him to the bed and force him to stay here.