said as casually as I could. Her soft laugh didn't help the situation at all.
Those gentle hands moved to the hem of my shirt, and lifted. Cool air hit my stomach and I felt goose bumps trail across my skin. She adjusted my shirt until I could pull my good arm through it, then she lifted it over my head. I felt a few tugs on the sling protecting my other arm. Once it was free, she gently maneuvered my arm so she could remove the shirt completely.
My good hand absently scratched through the scruff on my face. I needed to shave soon or it would take me even longer than it already did. I could feel the patches that were more scraggly than others. There was no way to make it even and I'd forced Mom to stop doing it for me. Getting used to the feel of it without seeing it would take a while.
Why do you even care?
I closed my eyes, feeling extremely exposed without my shirt. I couldn't see her, but I didn't want her to see me . Not when my emotions were hanging by a thread. Was she looking at my scars? At the mangled skin of my upper arm and my left side? Was she frowning or grossed out?
I shouldn't care. She was my nurse and I shouldn't care. I should have been a man about it and faced it head on. I. Shouldn't. Care.
But I did.
"Now, let's remove your shorts."
I couldn't stop the words from leaving my mouth, and no matter how childish it sounded, I needed to know. "How disgusted are you? On a scale of one to ten."
She sighed and moved my arm aside so she could reach the waist of my shorts. "That's not a very good joke, Merrick."
"I'm not joking, Grace."
She stopped moving, but stayed close to me. I could feel her quick breaths on the skin of my chest. It was doing things to me that I hadn't felt in a long time.
I must be coming down with something. A fever maybe?
"There is no need for a scale because I'm not disgusted. You're scarred, Merrick, not ruined."
"They're the same thing."
"They aren't," she snapped.
I dropped my head, hoping my eyes were close to meeting hers or at least her face. "Then why does it feel like they are?"
Her small hand touched my cheek, the warmth from her fingers making me ache for more. She cupped my scarred jaw before running her fingers back, behind the damaged skin of my ear. I couldn't breathe. I didn't want to. Not if it meant the moment would be over. Her gentle fingers followed the scarring up to my eye and over my brow. Her touch felt intimate, but more compassionate than anything else.
She hummed softly as her fingertips drifted back down to the scruff on my jaw. "It feels like they're the same because you haven't healed yet. Feels like your life is over because you've lost so much, and it hurts to even breathe." Her hand cupped my cheek again, and I wondered if this was her idea of being professional, because I'd double the pay if it was.
"Grace..." I breathed.
"Being scarred by something so horrible isn't the same as being ruined. You can only ruin yourself, Merrick, and that kind of destruction doesn't leave any visible scars."
I wanted to say something, anything that would make her see me as something other than a damaged man, but I couldn't think of anything. Maybe it was because she didn't really see me that way at all.
"Shorts," she said and helped me lift off the chair so she could remove them. My boxer briefs were left alone, and I felt her move my chair forward until I'm sure I was only a small distance from the shower door.
"I'm going to cover your lap with a towel and remove your underwear, then I'm going to cover your cast and leg."
I nodded, flinching when the towel landed over the semi erection I still had going on. Think of something gross, Merrick.
I pictured everything I could that would possibly gross me out, but Grace would have to leave the house for that to work effectively. She still smelled good and her hands were still on me. I swear I'd been partially aroused for the last week, and it was starting to get to me. Her tiny hands yanked on my
Those gentle hands moved to the hem of my shirt, and lifted. Cool air hit my stomach and I felt goose bumps trail across my skin. She adjusted my shirt until I could pull my good arm through it, then she lifted it over my head. I felt a few tugs on the sling protecting my other arm. Once it was free, she gently maneuvered my arm so she could remove the shirt completely.
My good hand absently scratched through the scruff on my face. I needed to shave soon or it would take me even longer than it already did. I could feel the patches that were more scraggly than others. There was no way to make it even and I'd forced Mom to stop doing it for me. Getting used to the feel of it without seeing it would take a while.
Why do you even care?
I closed my eyes, feeling extremely exposed without my shirt. I couldn't see her, but I didn't want her to see me . Not when my emotions were hanging by a thread. Was she looking at my scars? At the mangled skin of my upper arm and my left side? Was she frowning or grossed out?
I shouldn't care. She was my nurse and I shouldn't care. I should have been a man about it and faced it head on. I. Shouldn't. Care.
But I did.
"Now, let's remove your shorts."
I couldn't stop the words from leaving my mouth, and no matter how childish it sounded, I needed to know. "How disgusted are you? On a scale of one to ten."
She sighed and moved my arm aside so she could reach the waist of my shorts. "That's not a very good joke, Merrick."
"I'm not joking, Grace."
She stopped moving, but stayed close to me. I could feel her quick breaths on the skin of my chest. It was doing things to me that I hadn't felt in a long time.
I must be coming down with something. A fever maybe?
"There is no need for a scale because I'm not disgusted. You're scarred, Merrick, not ruined."
"They're the same thing."
"They aren't," she snapped.
I dropped my head, hoping my eyes were close to meeting hers or at least her face. "Then why does it feel like they are?"
Her small hand touched my cheek, the warmth from her fingers making me ache for more. She cupped my scarred jaw before running her fingers back, behind the damaged skin of my ear. I couldn't breathe. I didn't want to. Not if it meant the moment would be over. Her gentle fingers followed the scarring up to my eye and over my brow. Her touch felt intimate, but more compassionate than anything else.
She hummed softly as her fingertips drifted back down to the scruff on my jaw. "It feels like they're the same because you haven't healed yet. Feels like your life is over because you've lost so much, and it hurts to even breathe." Her hand cupped my cheek again, and I wondered if this was her idea of being professional, because I'd double the pay if it was.
"Grace..." I breathed.
"Being scarred by something so horrible isn't the same as being ruined. You can only ruin yourself, Merrick, and that kind of destruction doesn't leave any visible scars."
I wanted to say something, anything that would make her see me as something other than a damaged man, but I couldn't think of anything. Maybe it was because she didn't really see me that way at all.
"Shorts," she said and helped me lift off the chair so she could remove them. My boxer briefs were left alone, and I felt her move my chair forward until I'm sure I was only a small distance from the shower door.
"I'm going to cover your lap with a towel and remove your underwear, then I'm going to cover your cast and leg."
I nodded, flinching when the towel landed over the semi erection I still had going on. Think of something gross, Merrick.
I pictured everything I could that would possibly gross me out, but Grace would have to leave the house for that to work effectively. She still smelled good and her hands were still on me. I swear I'd been partially aroused for the last week, and it was starting to get to me. Her tiny hands yanked on my
Similar Books
