Sloth (Sinful Secrets 1)

I head for the dresser drawers and thumb through his clothes until I find the ones I ordered just the other day. A pair of new jeans—32-32, rather than his previous 36-32s—and a soft, cream Irish Aran sweater. Wool socks, check. Ugg moccasins that look like bedroom slippers but have real soles, check.

I grab my own clothes, push a chair under the room’s doorknob, and slip into my leggings and my own green sweater.

Kellan whistles.

“I might need a shower.”

“Nope!” I drop his clothes at the foot of the bed, and he thumbs through the pile. “Going commando I see.”

“Whoops. Forgot your underwear.”

He laughs. “I’m wearing them, Cleo baby. Pulled them on before I got up on the bed. For Arethea. Keep her blood pressure down.”

I roll my eyes and toss the jeans at him. “Get dressed then. Get.”

His face goes serious and smooth, his eyebrows arching. When he speaks, his voice is soft. “Where am I going?”

“Not home yet. Which, duh. But... somewhere. I already got approval for us.”

I let down the rail and tug his arm. He tugs back on me, pulling me atop his lap. “You need help dressing?” I tease him. He doesn’t—anymore—but honestly, it’s kind of sexy. Kellan has the perfect legs, all sinewy and still remarkably muscular, probably from the obsessive working out he’s been doing in the last week.

“To protect my heart,” he always says.

I always wink and tell him, “I don’t need protection.” And then I try to forget what he really means by that.

He kisses my jaw, my throat... I push at him. “C’moooon.” I throw my arms around his shoulders. “This is gonna be amazing. For at least half of us. The other half that’s holding us up right now gets the rubber chicken for dinner.” I reach onto the bed side table and grab the actual rubber chicken I ordered a few days ago, as a representative of our favorite horrible hospital meal. Kellan squeezes its head, making it cluck.

“Okay.” He drops it on the bed and sets me on the floor, then slides off the mattress. I touch his chest, parting the robe so I can see his lean, hard body. I stroke a finger down his ribcage, just over the broken ones, which are pretty close to being healed now. “I kinda want to dress you. Say yes?”

He smiles smugly, tugging on my tight sweater. “Wear this next shower, and yeah, you’ve got a deal.”

“Kay.”

I tug his boxer-briefs down, and Kellan’s cock twitches. I pull them back up. “Okay... boxer-briefs, check.”

Kellan chuckles as I pool the jeans at his feet, then stroke my palm up his calf. “Right foot first,” I tell him, smiling sweetly. It’s really weird, I know, but being down here at his feet, coaxing him into clothes, reminds me of how far he’s come and makes me happy.

He complies, resting his hands lightly on my shoulders as he steps in. “I don’t know these jeans.”

“They’re very funny. Great to have at parties. Nickname Blue.” I run my fingers up his left thigh. “Left foot now.”

When he’s standing in the jeans, I pull them slowly up his thighs... With one hand gripping them on each side of his hips, I tug a little harder over his boxer-briefs. I catch his now-hard dick in the zipper area on purpose and then reach into the jeans. “Pshh. I’m so uncoordinated.”

I fondle his balls, and Kellan hisses. “Damn, babe. You sure you want to leave the room?”

I push his dick down into the pants, then zip and button, giving his bulge a final pat before I grab the sweater. “Yep, I’m sure. And so do you.”

I only rake my fingertips over his ribs a few times before pulling the sweater onto him. When I’m finished, I present the moccasins and Kellan smirks at them. “I’m wearing these puppies outside?”

“They’ve got real soles.”

“If you say so.” He turns a slow circle, looking down at himself. “Not bad threads. Right sizing too.”

“I know you inside out.” I wiggle my brows. Then I push the gray beanie onto his head.

“You’re gonna need this, baldie.”

“You know you like this smooth head rubbing on you. When my hair grows back, you’ll want it shaved.”