I knew he was desperate to shower because of the overpowering stench of blood on his body. I followed him into the bathroom.
He turned to look at me with a frown. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ll help you wash up!” I exclaimed, reaching out to help him remove his jacket.
Just as my fingers reached his belt buckle, Ashton grabbed my hands and said in a ragged voice, “That’s enough. I’ll do the rest by myself. Go to sleep first!”
It was my turn to frown at him now. “You can’t get wet because of your injuries. How are you supposed to shower or even bathe? Your only option now is to wipe yourself with a washcloth, but I don’t think you’ll be able to do that yourself.”
Ashton demurred. “It’s alright. Don’t make such a huge fuss about it. I’ll wipe myself down.”
However, I insisted stubbornly, “I’ll wipe you down!”
His eyes grew darker. Gazing at me with an unreadable expression, he said, “Mess with the bull and you get the horns. Are you sure about this?”
This man was going to be the death of me!
“If you try and wipe yourself down, your injuries might get worse,” I said sulkily, changing the topic.
Ashton smirked devilishly. Taking my hand, he helped me unbuckle his belt, before guiding my hand to unzip his pants, his eyes growing even darker with lust.
I wasn’t completely stupid. Knowing where this was going, I hastily retracted my hand and hissed, “You wipe yourself down, then. I’m going to sleep first.”
Before I even exited the bathroom, Ashton had pulled me back, hugging me from behind. Afraid that I might aggravate his injury, I froze and tried not to move around as much.
I could feel his eyes boring into the back of my head. “Can we do it now?”
My face turned red with embarrassment. “Your wound might reopen.”
“It’s just a small injury. What’s the worst that could happen?”
The temperature in the bathroom was high to begin with. His voice sounded a little rough, but he continued to press, “Can we?”
I looked down and shut my eyes, refusing to answer him. He took my silence as consent.
After a hot, passionate round of love-making, I felt as though my body was about to fall apart like a rag doll. As I wiped myself clean, I noted that Ashton’s wound had bled through the white bandages again. His abdomen looked like a crime scene.
I frowned and gazed at him, feeling a little angry. “Look, you’re bleeding again! I told you that was going to happen. Your wound has opened up again!”
Ashton seemed to find this very funny. After putting on his bathrobe, he said, “It’s alright. Just get Jared to come over and take a look at it again. Don’t worry about it.”
I shot a glare at him, at a loss for words. I made my way out of the bathroom and made a call to Jared.
The call went through almost immediately. Hastily, I said, “Dr. Crest, Ashton’s wound has reopened again. He seems to be bleeding quite badly. Can you please come and take a look at him?”
Jared froze for a second and demanded in confusion, “Why would his wound reopen suddenly?”
I didn’t know what to reply him. I couldn’t tell him that we just made love in the bathroom, could I? Rather helplessly, I muttered, “Anyway, he’s bleeding quite a lot. Come over and take a look, won’t you? Please do me a favor.”
As I hung up the phone, Ashton looked mischievously at me with his arms crossed over his chest. With a faint smile, he said, “Are you going to tell him that my wound reopened because of unspeakable physical exertions?”
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