She shivered more and placed her hands over mine. “Don’t.”
“It’s dirty, Stella. The bath is going to be nice and warm.” I moved my hands up the slightest bit, lifting the skirt up her thighs. “It’s okay. Here, just guide my hands.”
I kept my grip on the nightie at her upper thigh until she pulled. I lifted it higher, almost to the apex of her thighs when she pushed against me and I stopped.
“I’m not going to prey on you, Stella. I just want to help.” I knew my words sounded hollow to her after everything I’d done, but I held her gaze and tried to make her believe them.
She hesitated, then pulled more. I raised the shift higher and stood, drawing it from her arms and tossing it in the floor. An ugly bruise—purple edged with yellow and green—covered a large part of her forearm.
“What happened there?”
“A woman. She hit me.” Stella blinked down at the injury. “Before we ran.”
I made a mental note to find out who it was and punish the bitch accordingly. “I’m going to lift you and take you to the bath.”
I bent over slowly, treating her like I would a skittish horse that was too afraid to be treated. I slid my hands under her knees and across her upper back.
She made a noise and bit her lip. “It hurts.”
“I know.” I carried her to the bath and lowered her into the tub.
Her face twisted in a mix of relief and pain as the water rushed up to meet her. Once she was in, I turned off the water and stripped off my wet shirt, tossing it out the door in the same heap with her dress.
She glanced up, taking in my chest and stomach before she closed her eyes and leaned her head back.
I sat on the edge of the tub, my gaze tracing the curves of her body beneath the water. I’d tried not to look when she was on the bed, but my cock was hard all the same. Because I was a bastard.
The water trembled as she shivered, the heat not seeping into her fast enough. Her hair floated around her shoulders, the red strands delicate against her pale skin and the white of the tub.
She shifted and groaned, but her teeth no longer chattered, and some color was returning to the parts of her skin that weren’t chapped.
“You can’t stay in here long. Hot water isn’t the best for the blisters.”
“Just let me sit for a little while longer.” Her eyes didn’t open, and her voice had a distant quality, relaxed and sleepy.
I went to the vanity and dug around in the cabinets, finding towels, shampoo, wash cloths, and soaps. I grabbed a bar, smelled it, tossed it, and then picked another. This one was more on point, sweet without being overpowering.
I sat on the edge of the tub again and dipped the cloth in the water before using the soap to lather it up. Stella’s head lolled to the side as her breathing smoothed into a steady rhythm. Something warmed inside me at the thought that she felt safe enough to fall asleep in my presence. That, or she’d simply been pushed beyond exhausted.
I put my arm down in the tub and gingerly lifted her leg. The blisters were clean from the water, but still an angry red, with deflated skin around the wounds. They would hurt for a while. Good news was I had something in the first aid kit for it. Bad news was I didn’t think Stella would willingly let me drug her. Not that it mattered. I would do it either way to help her through this mess.
I soaped up her foot and she woke, sucking in a pained breath.
“I’m done. I’m done.” I moved up her calf and massaged as I cleaned.
She moaned.
“This okay?”
“Yes. Don’t stop.” Her throaty whisper had my cock straining against my pants, but I ignored it.
I continued working my fingers into her muscles, and her mouth opened. She was panting as I got to her thigh and massaged out the knots there. When I neared her pussy, I forced myself to stop and place her leg back on the bottom of the tub. Then I lifted the other one and did the same.
By the time I was done, she watched me with half lidded eyes. I had the impulse to jump in the tub with her and sink between her thighs. Instead, I dutifully soaped the washcloth again and worked up another good lather. I gently scrubbed her face, her delicate neck, graceful shoulders, and arms. The bruise seemed even uglier now that the rest of her was clean.
I soaped her chest and ran the washcloth along her pert breasts, the nipples hard and begging for attention. I swiped lower, cleaning her before putting a hand behind her back and leaning her forward. I rested her upper chest on my palm as I washed her back. She was like dough in my hands, soft and pliable. Vulnerable.