Wow. –Liana
Liana
“This is not a big deal,” I muttered to myself for the fourth time.
I folded the towel perfectly, placed it on the closed toilet lid.
I was just helping him shower.
Because he broke his arm.
Not because I wanted to see him naked.
Not because I kept thinking about that low groan he made last night when I touched his stomach by accident.
Definitely not because I woke up this morning wondering how he looked with water dripping down his chest.
Nope.
Purely practical.
“Need help with something?” His voice from the doorframe nearly made me drop the shampoo bottle.
I turned.
And there he was.
His cast wrapped snug around his left forearm, white against all that tanned, hard muscle. His jeans hung low on his hips. He looked like he’d walked out of a survival movie and straight into my unresolved fantasies.
“I’m fine,” I said, trying to sound like a person whose insides weren’t melting.
“You sure?” he asked, grinning as he stepped in and shut the door behind him. “Because you look nervous.”
I rolled my eyes and turned back to the shower.
“Only because you’re standing there looking like you know it.”
“I do.”
Of course he did.
Elias
She tried to act normal.
Like this was no big deal.
Like helping me shower wasn’t short-circuiting every nerve in her body.
But her fingers trembled when she reached for the hem of my T-shirt.
“You can just lift your arms a little,” she said, voice thin.
I raised my good arm. The other stayed low.
She helped me peel it off.
Her breath hitched.
She didn’t look away.
Good.
Because I wanted her to see.
I wanted her to see what she did to me. how I was always a little too wound up around her, too on edge, too full of things I wanted and had to hold back.
Liana
I pulled his shirt over his head, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
I had never seen Elias like this. Not fully. Not in full light.
Not standing still, inches away from me, completely unguarded.
His chest was broad, every muscle taut and perfectly defined like he was carved out of heat and sin. His shoulders were solid, his arms strong, veins visible beneath damp skin. But it was his abs that made my knees falter. sharp ridges that tapered down to the most dangerous thing I’d ever seen on a human body.
His V-line.
The kind of thing I didn’t think actually existed outside of fitness ads.
The kind that drew your eyes down and refused to let them go.
And when he took off his jeans…
I saw it. And froze.
Because that—that was supposed to go inside me?
I knew it had. I remembered the stretch, the fullness, the sting.
But seeing it again… like this, so clear, so real… my brain short-circuited. My face turned into flames.
It looked… impossible.
I jerked my gaze back up, horrified to realize I’d been staring.
Elias’s brow lifted, a slow smirk threatening the corner of his mouth.
I wanted to die.
Or vanish.
Or maybe just scream into a towel.
“Still okay?” he asked, like he didn’t already know the answer.
I nodded stiffly.
And prayed he hadn’t noticed the moment I questioned basic human anatomy all over again.
Elias
I sat down on the small shower stool, letting the warm water run over my shoulders as she adjusted the sprayer to avoid the cast.
Then she started washing my hair.
And I nearly lost it.
Her fingers were gentle. Careful. She scratched lightly over my scalp, worked the shampoo through, then tilted my head back under the stream.
I bit my tongue.
Not because it hurt. Because it felt too good.
When she leaned in to rinse the suds from my forehead, her chest brushed my cheek, soft through the damp fabric of her top.
I exhaled hard.
She didn’t seem to notice.
She was too focused. Too sweet.
Too dangerous.
“Liana,” I said low.
She blinked. “Yeah?”
“You’re gonna kill me.”
She frowned. “What?”
“Touching me like that. Looking like that.” I looked up at her, my voice roughening. “I keep thinking about kissing you.”
She swallowed.
Didn’t say no.
Didn’t back away.
So I took a step forward. And kissed her.
Liana
His mouth crashed into mine. hot, urgent, barely in control.
His good hand tangled in my hair, his chest slick against mine, the cast lightly brushing my arm as he stood up. then backed me against the tile.
I gasped into him, hands bracing on his sides.
“I love you,” he murmured, breath ragged. “You didn’t give me the chance to say it back at the hospital.”
“I love you too” I whispered.
And that was it. He devoured me.
There was nothing gentle about the way his tongue slid into my mouth, nothing patient about the way he gripped my waist, pulled me tight to him, let me feel every hard, aching inch of him.
My knees buckled.
He held me up.
Then—
“Ah—fuck,” he hissed.
I froze. “Oh my god! Your arm—”
He chuckled against my lips. “I’m fine.”
“No you’re not,” I muttered, flushed and breathless. “You’re literally broken.”
“Then don’t move,” he said roughly. “work with me.”
His hips ground into mine, and I almost agreed.
Almost.
But then I remembered how hard it had been just to get him into a T-shirt this morning.
“If we start now,” I said, panting, “you’re going to break the other arm.”
He groaned. Pressed his forehead to mine. “You’re evil.”
“I’m looking out for you.” I whispered.
He pulled back just enough to smirk, water dripping off his lashes.
“This isn’t over,” he said.
I smiled, still pinned between him and the wall, my whole body humming.
“When you are better…”
“I’m counting on it.” he said.
