Reeve (The Henchmen MC 11)

"And you need someone to patrol your house overnight to make sure nothing freezes to death on your doorstep," he guessed. "Lo's got some extra hands that can do it. It's done. Anything else?"

"I, ah, I think that's it for now," I said, feeling a bit of the weight off my chest. "I have to bring these things to Reeve. He needs to get cleaned up, and get some sleep."

"Go on, get your nursemaid on, sweetheart. I will be bouncing around if you need someone to talk to, okay?"

"Okay," I agreed, giving him a bit of a forced smile as I scurried back to Reeve's room.

I don't know what I had expected out of the room. But I was pretty sure I didn't anticipate militantly blank everything. There was not a single thing in the room that wasn't absolutely necessary. He didn't even have any loose change on his nightstand. Bare white walls, a simple blue comforter and sheets on his queen-sized bed, and a dresser.

There wasn't even a TV.

Interesting, in an intriguing way.

But I would have time to muse on that later.

I had a man to attend to.

"What do you think you are doing?" I asked as I stepped into the doorway to find him standing beside the shower, trying to get his shirt up. And failing.

"Feel filthy," he admitted. "I need to shower."

"Well, unless you plan on doing it fully clothed, I think you should sit down and let me deal with your cuts."

"Babe," he said, shaking his head at me a little. "Come on. Give me a hand."

Ugh.

My stupid body.

There was a flip-flop in my belly and a tightening in my core at the idea of giving him a hand in removing his clothes.

This was definitely not the time or place for being turned on.

"You can barely stand up on dry ground. You'll fall over in there."

"I got it, Rey. Trust me. I just need to wash this day off," he admitted, showing a hint of vulnerability thanks to his pain and exhaustion. "Just help me take off my shirt. After I clean off, I am all yours to rub unspeakably foul-smelling things all over, I promise."

"Okay," I agreed, digging around in my bag for scissors and going toward him. "There's no way you are going to want to lift your arm right now," I explained, pulling the material away from his stomach, and slicing upward. "You're probably going to want to be shirtless for a few days."

With that, I dropped his shirt, and he waited for me to leave to finish undressing, ever the gentlemen.

With him occupied, I went to search through his closet to locate a shirt to throw on, something that I could actually properly breathe in. Discarding the dress I decided needed to be burned, I slipped into his warm, worn, and therefore super soft old white tee that came halfway down my thighs.

I heard the water shut off, waited a few minutes, and made my way in, carrying with me a pair of loose pajama pants for him to slip into. I found him leaning back against the wall beside the shower, the towel draped low on his hips.

The room was small. Even just strolling in a few feet made me only an arm's length away from him.

I stopped dead in my tracks, the sight of him hitting me with impact, seeming to knock my air from my chest - and all the thoughts out of my head.

True, I had lifted his shirt before, and I had helped it off him just moments before. But that was different. I was looking for injuries and I was helping someone in need. I wasn't really seeing the man.

Now, well, I absolutely was.

And, damn, what a man too.

He was beautiful. Flawless, really. His perfect skin was stretched over stunning, chiseled muscles, the etches between them deep enough to sink a finger into across his chest and stomach and lower. The deep V that led down into the dip of the towel had my air feeling constricted in my chest, a heavy, unmistakable desire spreading through me. My breasts felt instantly heavier, my pulse pounding in my throat, wrists, and temples; my skin felt flushed and overly sensitive. There was a strong, pre-orgasm tightening deep in my core, begging to know the feel of him buried inside.

"Rey," Reeve's voice called, a little husky, but light, sweet almost, making my head snap up a bit guiltily.

I didn't have to see myself to know that my desire was all over my face. I felt the warmth in my cheeks, the heavy lids to my eyes, the way my air was coming out too quickly, too shallowly.

"I know, babe," he said, voice soft as his arm raised on his good side, reaching to cup my jaw, his thumb stroking out over my warm cheek. "Tonight was supposed to go a lot different." I drew in a slow, deep, shaky breath, closing the space between us, moving in, careful to avoid his bruises, resting my head against his chest, still warm from the shower. His chest expanded when he tried to take a deep breath, ending on a small, pained cough at the effort as his arm went around me, giving me a tight squeeze. "You okay?"