Page 80 of Say it Ain’t So

“Fine,” I managed through gritted teeth.

“Let me help you.”

“Don’t need any help.”

“I know.” She dropped to one knee and gently took my hand from my leg. “I know you don’t. But I want to.”

I didn’t deserve this woman. Didn’t deserve her love. Her care.

My heavy eyelids closed, and she pressed her lips to my forehead.

“What do you need?”

“Sleep,” I muttered, only partially because I was tired as fuck. Sleeping was something I could do on my own. I didn’t need any help.

My chair started moving and my hands shot out as I grabbed for the wheels before dragging my eyes open.

“It’s okay,” she cooed from behind me. “Let’s get you settled in bed, okay?”

“I got it.” I pulled away from her, crashing into the wall in the process. After a little maneuvering, I was able to get down the hallway to my room.

It took a little more maneuvering—and possibly a little help from Joss—before I could get my chair over to my bed. I lifted out of it and wanted to cringe away when Joss ran to me and tucked herself under my arm.

“I got it,” I repeated, but she didn’t back away. Instead, she helped me onto the mattress before she pulled the covers back.

I sat there, watching as she unlaced my shoes and pulled them off my feet. But I couldn’t stand by when she reached for the hem of my shirt. I grabbed for it, knocking her hands away as I struggled to sit up and pull the damn thing over my head. I struggled. I fucking struggled. Before I could get it more than halfway up my chest without falling back into my pillows, Joss covered my hands with hers.

“Rylan. Please.”

Dropping onto my back, I turned my face away. She reached for my shirt and lifted, and her cold hands against my skin made me hate myself even more.

Here she was, hands freezing and likely in pain, trying to help me—a grown-ass man—get out of his fucking shirt.

“I’m sorry I’m so helpless,” I murmured as she moved my arm to get it out of my sleeve.

“You’re not helpless, Rylan.” She pulled my face back toward hers, but I couldn’t bring myself to look into her eyes. “You just need a little help.”

I squeezed my eyelids closed, feeling more than helpless—feeling worthless—as she freed my arm and moved on to the other. She paused when she pulled it over my head, and I took a peek, hoping she’d left me there so I could wallow in my pathetic-ness.

Instead, she was standing there, watching me from beside my bed. She lowered her face to mine, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. “Let me help you.”

She kissed my lips again, then my jaw, then my neck. Joss smoothed her hands along my chest, her touch so light it made the hairs on my body stand on end. And when her mouth followed the path of her hands, it had something else rising as well.

“Let me help you,” she murmured again as she fingered the waistband of my shorts.

“Joss…”

Could I blame my inability to speak on my pain meds? I wasn’t sure that was the case, but I sure as fuck was going to try. She tugged my shorts down my hips, taking my boxer briefs along as she went, being achingly gentle as she cleared my wounded leg.

“I can’t—” How pathetic was this? I couldn’t take my own goddamn pants off. How the hell was I supposed to pleasure my woman when I could barely lift my hips?

“Let me help,” she whispered again, pressing kisses to the skin beneath my brace near my knee.

“Fuck.” She skipped the braced area completely, jumping to the space near my hip, and I wanted to buck and strain to get to her, but I couldn’t even manage that.

Joss skimmed her hand up my other leg, causing every hair that hadn’t already risen to stand at fucking attention, before her slim fingers grazed the base of my cock.

“Joss…” Her name was nothing but a groan as it tore through my chest. She licked my tip, and I moaned again as she wrapped her fingers around me and stroked as she kissed the head of my dick.