Page 9 of Take Me Slowly, Part 1 (Aurora Hollow duet #1)

LEAH

I should have listened to my instincts and not opened the door. Having to lever myself off the couch and make my way over was difficult enough. Every step, slow and painful.

Then to see him standing there, just when I thought my day couldn't get any worse.

Fucking great.

He looked me up and down, his brows dipped low. "You look like shit."

"Thanks." I started to close the door, but his hand shot out and pushed it open.

"What happened to you?" He followed me when I took a couple of faltering steps back.

"Nothing, I'm perfectly fine." I wasn't fine. Far from it, but I didn't need him in my business.

"Bullshit." He closed the door behind him. "Your feet are swollen. Your legs too. Fuck." He rubbed a hand over the back of his head.

"Yeah, well." I lifted my hands and dropped them to my sides. "I'm fine, okay? You can go now." I turned away so he couldn't see me wince, and headed back to the couch.

"Leah," he said to my back. He followed me over, watching as I lowered myself down carefully.

If I didn't know better, I'd think he was worried. For the life of me, I couldn't think why. In spite of the look he gave me at the market that suggested he wanted me, he'd given me no reason to think he gave a shit about me one way or another.

"What do you need?" He sat down beside me, on the edge of the couch. "What is this?" He waved in the direction of my legs and feet.

"It's nothing you need to worry about," I said. "Please, just…go."

I leaned back gingerly, trying to keep the discomfort from my face but knowing I failed miserably.

"I'm not leaving you like this," he said. Much gentler than I would have expected of him, he knelt in front of me and picked up one of my feet. "Is this from standing up so long yesterday?" His hands were warm as he started to gently massage the ball of my foot and down to my toes.

I wanted to pull away, but it felt good. Too good. Instead, I sat back and let him work.

"Yes," I said finally. "I always get a flare-up after standing for too long."

He glanced up at me. "Someone would have brought a chair if you asked. Don't tell me: you didn't want to be a bother."

"Would you have asked?" I narrowed my eyes at him.

He hesitated for only a moment before admitting, "No, but I don't get swollen feet." He worked his way up to my ankle before lowering my foot and starting on the other one.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

"I didn't realise we were having an existential conversation." He carefully massaged each toe, one by one.

I snorted-laughed. "I mean here in my house," I said. "You were the one who knocked on the door, remember?"

"I was hoping to catch you in the shower," he said. "In case you were the kind of girl to answer the door naked."

"You're full of shit," I said. Was he actually worried about me?

"I figured you'd have an insult or two saved up. Wouldn't want to waste them," he said. "So, what have you got?"

"Nothing off the top of my head." I half-closed my eyes. My feet actually felt a little better, even if they were still swollen. "I'll think of something."

"Lie back," he told me.

My eyes snapped open. "I'm not going to?—"

Connor smirked. "Your legs are swollen. I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure elevating them would help."

"Right." My hands to either side of me, I swivelled around to lift my legs and place them on the length of the couch.

"Good girl," he said softly.

I didn't expect the jolt of heat at his words, or the careful way he started to massage my legs, his hands gentle but thorough. Or the knowing smile he gave me as he went on working. Prick.

"What is this?" he asked. "Your knees are swollen too."

"Early rheumatoid arthritis," I whispered, not wanting to speak the name of the monster out loud. "It comes and goes."

"They say the same about me." He smirked.

"I'm sure you're just as painful." I smirked back.

"No doubt." He rubbed my knees for a few minutes before rising to his feet and heading deeper into the cottage.

"What are you doing?" I sat up straighter.

"Running you a bath." He disappeared into the bathroom, quickly followed by the sound of water.

"Connor," I called out after him. I would have gotten up, but right now my legs didn't want to behave. They'd happily stay here on the couch and let him rub them forever. Traitors. My clit was thinking along the same lines.

I closed my eyes for a moment until he spoke.

"The bath is almost full. Do you need help getting naked?"

Did he have to make that sound so enticing?

"I can do it," I said. After a moment, and with a ton of reluctance, I added, "But I can't get into the bath."

He stopped halfway back to me, looking confused and uncertain for the first time since I'd met him. "You can't?"

"Not… Not like this." I gestured towards my still swollen legs. He was right, the water would help, but supporting myself on one leg and then the other with a bath as high as the one the cottage had? It would hurt like hell.

"I'll help you in," he said as though nothing was simpler.

"You don't have to do that," I argued weakly.

"And miss the opportunity to see you naked?" He managed a cocky grin. "Not a chance."

I rolled my eyes at him. "I'm sure you have better things to do."

"Not really." He stepped over and offered both of his hands. His expression became serious. "Look, you need help. I know you think I'm a massive douchebag."

"You said it, not me." I gripped his hands and let him ease me to my feet.

"I deserved that," he said. "But that's not how we are around here. If someone needs help, we give help."

"Even if that someone is an outsider?" I asked.

He regarded me for a moment. "Seems like you're sticking around." Without warning, he leaned down and scooped me up into his arms.

I let out a short squeal, but didn't try to stop him from carrying me into the bathroom before carefully lowering me back to my feet.

"Take your clothes off," he said.

Part of me wanted to tell him to fuck all the way off, but the steam rising from the bath, and the tower of bubbles on top of the water were enticing.

"Turn your back," I said.

He gave me a disbelieving look, then slowly turned around to face the wall.

Satisfied he wasn't looking, I stripped down to my underwear, placing my clothes beside the sink. Very much aware I was dressed in only a matching set of dark purple panties and bra, both with sheer lace. My nipples both responded to the rush of cooler air, and his presence.

"Okay, if you can help me into the water," I said with further reluctance. I liked to be independent. Flare-ups fucked with that. On top of that, I was practically allergic to asking for help. I couldn't think of many things I hated more.

He turned around slowly and ran his gaze up and down my body.

"Beg," he said.

I blinked at him. "What did you say?"

"I said if you want help into the bath, be a good girl and beg," he said.

"Please," I said, trying to ignore the increased throbbing between my thighs.

"Please what?" He cocked his head, and raised one eyebrow.

"Please, Connor," I said. "Can you please help me into the bath?"

"Good girl," he soothed. His eyes on mine, he took my arms and placed them around his neck before scooping me up and lowering me into the water.

I let out a long sigh as the warm water engulfed me, soothing my aches and warming me from the outside in.

"I shouldn't have put in so many bubbles," he said.

"It looks perfect to me." They covered me so completely, I sat up and unhooked my bra. Sliding it off my arms, I tossed it out onto the black and white tiles on the bathroom floor. Looking right at him, I pushed my panties down and leaned to grab them before tossing them aside too.

"I like making you wet," he said. He closed the lid of the toilet and sat on it to watch me.

"Only wet with bathwater," I said. We both knew that wasn't true. Between his care and praise, my body craved more.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked. "Apart from it being ‘the Aurora Hollow way’." I used air quotes. "You could have asked Whitney, Fiona or Holly to help me. Or you could have walked away and forgot all about me."

"Would you have preferred that?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"You don't even like me," I pointed out. "You've made it clear you can't stand me and are counting down the days until I leave town." I frowned. "This isn't where you hold me under the water until I stop breathing, is it?"

On a good day I wouldn't be able to fight him off. On a bad day, I stood no chance.

"I'm an asshole, not a murderer," he said with a short laugh. "My sister likes you, so I suppose you're okay. Besides, this way I guess you owe me one."

"Owe you one what?" After him paying for drinks the other night, I was starting to build up some kind of debt to him. At least, that was how it felt.

He shrugged one shoulder. "A favour? A good deed? I don't know. Something'll come up."

"I'm sure it will," I said with a glance to his groin.

"I like that's where your mind went," he said with a shit-eating grin. "I guess I should call you good girl a few more times."

"And what should I call you?" I said without thinking.

The sides of his mouth drew up in a slow smile. "How about sir?"

I let my head drop back and laughed. "Keep dreaming." His ego was big enough.

"Sounds like a challenge to me," he said in a low voice. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. "You see, I figured out a little something."

My pulse ratcheted up until it was racing almost painfully through my body.

"What's that?" I asked.

"I figured out that you're mine, Leah Kent. You asked me why I'm here. That's your answer. You wanted to know why I'd take care of you like this, that's why. I know you're going to fight it, because that's the kind of woman you are. And I know one other thing."

I gave him a questioning look, but no words managed to work their way out of my mouth.

"I know you're going to need help getting out of that bath." He looked very pleased with himself.

Shit, he was right and I was naked under the bubbles. No wonder he looked so smug.

"I'll find a way," I said. "I feel better now after the massage and hot water." Not enough to make the flare-up die down completely, but some.

"I'm staying until I know you got out without falling and knocking yourself out on the side of the bath," he said, unmoved. "Whitney would kill me if I even thought about leaving you alone."

"We wouldn't want your sister to kill you," I said with an edge of sarcasm.

"No, we wouldn't," he agreed. "Now, are you going to let me help you out?" He stretched out his arm.