True Art

Chapter Twenty-five

REMINGTON'S POV

I could do this. I could help Matthew have a shower. It was no big deal. How hard could it be? Very fucking hard. My neck felt hot at my own thoughts. Christ, I was turning into a horny teenager.

“If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to go now. I feel yucky after being in the hospital.” He looked over at me, all shyness.

“Of course, that’s fine. Come on.” I led him by the elbow back into my converted study. It was the only place that I thought would work, where he’d have some privacy and not have to climb the stairs. There was a small shower in the downstairs washroom, so that would work. But maybe he’d prefer a bath?

“Matthew, I can help you upstairs if you’d prefer to take a bath?”

He looked up, rummaging in his bag for clothes. “Um, I think a shower would be easier. The doctors said I could get the surgery wounds wet but not submerge them in water. So, a shower is best.”

I nodded and reached for the large stack of towels I’d left for him on the bookcase. “Okay then. I have a small stool that might make things easier. I’ll bring that.”

I slipped out of the room and grabbed the stool from where it sat in the main hallway, and I quickly left it in the shower, so Matthew could sit if that was easier. When I returned and walked back into the study, I stopped abruptly, my breath catching in my throat.

Holy shit.

Matthew was standing with only his PJ bottoms on, the smooth creamy skin of his body on display.

“Can you give me a hand with this? It took me ages to put them on last night.” He looked at me, a little flustered.

“Don’t be worrying about it. I’m here to look after you, remember? Just ask for my help.” I knelt down, tucking my fingers inside the waistband on his PJ bottoms and tugging them down over his hips, sliding down his smooth thighs. God, he was stunning. Slowly, I peeled them off, then made him sit on the edge of the bed so I could carefully pull them off completely.

Matthew was left dressed only in his boxers, and I handed him the crutches, avoiding overtly staring. Which was difficult, since not only did I feel compelled to stare, but I was fighting the urge to lick him. Lord almighty, I was losing my mind.

“This way.” I swallowed hard and tried to look ahead.

He hobbled after me down the hallway to the small washroom, and I switched on the fan and the small heater I’d had installed. It was always cold in that room, never getting sun and the stone walls of the cottage letting in a draft.

I placed the towel on the small corner unit and switched on the shower.

“Do you like your shower hot or on the cooler side?”

“Hot. Like, burning hot.” Matthew stood, wavering a little on one foot, and he seemed even younger, innocent almost. Though I knew he was far from it.

“Okay. I’ll turn it up. You can adjust the temperature here if you need.”

When I turned back to him, he’d slid off his boxers and was standing completely naked before me.

“I... uh... Let’s get you washed.” I reached my hand out, and he took it, leaning the crutches against the wall and allowing me to guide him towards the shower. The steam had built up fast from the piping hot water in the cold room, and I gripped his arm tightly as he stepped into the shower.

“You can use that stool to sit on or rest against. Let me know if you need any help with, uh, anything.” God, I sounded so awkward. It was killing me. This was going to be the death of me. I’d turned from a calm and controlled businessman into a nervous fool.

“I’m good. I think I’ll be okay. Can I use your shower gel and shampoo?”

“Of course. Help yourself to whatever you want while you’re here.”

“Whatever I want?” Matthew stared at me, as though that question meant something else entirely.

I’m a sensible man, but right then, all sense went out the window. Between the earlier remark about wishing I’d teach him a lesson and now that question, my quota for willpower was well and truly used up. “Anything, anything at all. I’d give you whatever you want, Matthew. I’d make it my mission.”

The water streamed down his body, coursing in veins of liquid across his collarbone and down his chest, dripping from his nipples and gliding along his abs, smooth valleys of wet skin and muscle that seemed to call out to be kissed and explored.

“What if I want you?” he whispered, his voice husky.

“I’ll give you anything you want. Including me.”

Wet hands pulled me forward until I was standing under the shower, fully dressed. The hot water felt scorching against my scalp as it pelted down, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t focus on anything other than Matthew, his naked body sending me into a lustful daze. I stepped closer, pressing him against the cold shower tiles, and as he shivered, I knew I’d never resist this man. I didn’t want to.

My mouth landed on his, the sensation driving me insane, hot and wet and sparking with energy. My clothes felt heavy against my skin, soaking into me, as I pressed against Matthew’s lithe body, silky and smooth in my arms. He slid his arms around my neck, biting at my lips and thrusting his tongue into my mouth in a dance of desire and aggression.

“You should know I’m not perfect. I’m a little broken,” I mumbled, before sucking his bottom lip between my teeth. I gripped his waist and dug my fingers into the firm wet flesh, sliding down a little until my hands cupped his pert ass cheeks.

“I can put all the pieces back together, if you let me,” he whispered back, and he kissed me hard, passionate and heat-filled.

Matthew’s whisper zinged in my brain, like a pinball machine setting all my nerve endings alight. I had lost everything that I once loved, so why would this be any different?

I pulled back, water dripping from my face and causing me to blink away droplets as Matthew gazed up at me with eyes that looked surprised, if not a little sad. “I better get out and let you wash. We can talk later about this.”

“Oh. Okay.”

That was all he said as I stepped out of the shower, sopping wet and physically hurting as my erection ached. “Call me when you need help getting out. I’m going to dry off.”

I peeled off my socks and splodged my way through the house and upstairs. Standing in my bedroom in front of the long freestanding mirror, I stared at my reflection. What the hell was I doing? I had no idea anymore. I couldn’t even think straight, and I clearly couldn’t even help Matthew to take a shower without following him in.

Maybe there could be something good between us, but I really needed to slow things down. I couldn’t keep allowing myself and my impulses to run away like this. It was so unlike me, and it was starting to unnerve me.

I’d spent nearly a decade keeping my heart wrapped up in bubble wrap, sealed away like an antique that might crumble as soon as it was taken out. I wanted to be with him, to let myself run away with this fantasy, but I knew better. Things ended. People got hurt. And I’d had my fair share of hurt and pain. Hell, I’d had more than I deserved. I needed to slow things down with Matthew, for both our sakes.

By the time I padded downstairs, dry and changed into fresh clothes, I heard the shower turn off.

“Remi?”

The sound of Matthew’s voice, filtering through the hall was haunting; a ghostly reminder of how empty this house had been, and how alive it felt with him here.

“On my way,” I called out to him. I’d have to try to keep a better distance between us until I figured out exactly what it was that we were doing. But I knew deep down that was going to be a lot more difficult than it sounded.

How could I hold back from him when he made everything feel better?