Page 85 of His Choice

In theory, he was right. I tried to focus on that since there was no way I was in any condition to pull my T-shirt over my head, let alone walk myself into the shower.

“I’ll wash myself,” I warned.

“You’ll do what you’re able to do, and you’ll let me do the rest.” His tone made it clear he wasn’t willing to debate. He could be stubborn like me.

“This is embarrassing,” I complained.

He gently removed my arm from the sling, but it was still enough to make me wince in pain. “Brute!”

“Shh,” he soothed. The fact that he didn’t return a snarky remark made me realize he was genuinely worried about hurting me. “I’m doing my best, Mikey.”

Aaron glanced at my face, and his expression said so much. Trust me. Let me take care of you. Don’t be angry with me.

“You’re a good friend, Aaron,” I whispered.

He nodded. “The best.”

I laughed. “Arrogant, though.”

Aaron smiled. “Don’t be like that, pookie.”

He didn’t ask permission as he began removing clothes. Then again, I guess I had already conceded. Aaron unbuttoned my beat-up jeans, undid the zipper, then lowered the pants to my ankles. It would have been erotic if it weren’t for the circumstances.

I lifted my good foot so he could remove the sneaker and sock, then slide the jeans over my ankle. I grimaced as he repeated the process with my lame foot.

“Hurts,” I stated.

To my surprise, he placed a couple of gentle kisses on the calf of my injured leg. “Sorry, Mikey.”

His action was causing my dick to swell a bit. I cursed silently, trying to think of every awful thing imaginable. I focused on Daryl mocking me, and it seemed to stem the blood flow. I wasn’t flaccid, but at least I didn’t have a full-on erection.

Aaron slid down my briefs as if he was unveiling a precious statue.

“Why are you going so slow?” I barked.

He looked up, a strange expression on his face. “I… I’m trying to be gentle.”

“My balls aren’t injured,” I reminded him. Then I felt guilty. “I didn’t mean to be a jerk. I’m just in a hurry to get this over with.”

Aaron nodded but still had that weird look I hadn’t ever seen before. It was like he wanted to tell me something but hesitated. Dude, with your face in front of my sack, maybe pick a better time to chat.

He finally got the underwear off my legs and tossed it to the corner of the room.

“Okay, the hard part,” he cautioned once he was standing again. “Try to bend forward and extend your arms. I’ll pull the T-shirt off you.”

Aaron was right. The movement was painful, but I imagined it was far better than having tried to lift my arms over my head. Despite my bashfulness, I was glad the clothes were off and I could avoid irritating my wounds further.

He walked over to the shower and turned on the hot water.

“Just help me walk over and I’ll take it from there,” I ordered.

Aaron ignored me, removing his T-shirt instead. Then he reached for the button on his jeans. “You’re not going to be able to wash your hair. And believe me, it needs to be cleaned.”

“Wha…what are you doing?” I stammered as he kicked off his loafers, then removed his socks.

“How am I supposed to wash your hair while standing outside the shower?” he reasoned, shoving down his jeans. I had seen him this close to naked when he was in the dressing room, but I had been so busy trying to avert my eyes, I wouldn’t have been able to recall the image. Now, as he stood before me in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, I marveled at how amazing his build was. Unlike Cliff, he wasn’t bordering on bodybuilder muscles. Aaron was lean but oh so toned. Every part of him was sculpted and beautiful. Even his body hair was pretty—not too dense, light-colored, and practically glistening under the overhead bathroom light.

“Um, you’re going to get naked?” I asked.