After he drinks, he hands the glass back to me.
"Now get up," I say, setting the glass down. "I'm going to help you shower and change. It'll help you feel better. Then we can go outside and eat breakfast. It's a beautiful day."
Adrian looks at me, one eyebrow raised, and a slow smile spreads across his face.
"Oh, I like this bossy side," he says, his voice low and teasing.
I cross my arms, fighting the smile threatening to break free.
"I'm serious, Adi. It'll be good for you."
"I know," he says, throwing the blankets off himself with his good hand.
I help him stand, and he towers over me.
"I usually prefer to do the undressing," he says, looking me up and down, "but I'll let you handle it today."
Heat flushes through me, and I roll my eyes, grabbing his good hand.
"Oh, come on."
I lead him into the massive en-suite bathroom, the marble floors cool beneath my feet. I always found this bathroom ridiculouslytoo big. White marble is everywhere, complete with a deep soaking tub and a walk-in shower with glass doors and multiple showerheads.
I turn on the hot water, letting it run on my hand until it turns warm. I wipe my hand on my robe, then turn back to Adrian.
"I'll help keep your mind off the pain," I say, untying the belt of my robe.
I let it fall, the fabric pooling at my feet, and I strip naked.
Adrian's eyes darken, his gaze dragging down my body.
"Fuck," he breathes.
I step toward him, my fingers finding the velcro strip keeping his sling in place. I undo it carefully and take it off, doing my best to avoid him moving so much. I run my fingers over his hard pecs, losing myself for a moment at the way his skin feels beneath my fingertips.
"You're supposed to be helping me feel better, not torturing me," he says, his voice dark.
"I am," I say, moving to his sweatpants. I hook my fingers into the waistband and pull them down slowly.
His cock is already half-hard, pressing against his boxers.
"Leni," he warns.
I smile, pulling his boxers down next. His cock springs free, thick and ready, and I can't help the satisfaction rising in my chest.
"Careful," I say, guiding him toward the shower. "You're injured."
"I don't feel too injured right now," he says with a slight smile.
I grab one of the plastic sheets and press it against his shoulder, smoothing it down until it seals. I repeat the process with his bicep, making sure the edges are tight.
"There," I say. "Does that feel alright?"
"Yeah," he nods, looking down at it. "Thank you, Nurse Elena."
I laugh, stepping into the shower first, the hot water hitting my skin. Adrian follows, stepping in carefully, and I position him so the spray doesn't hit his left side, keeping his shoulder and arm perfectly dry.
I reach for the soap, lathering it in my hands, and press my palms against his chest. His skin is hot, slick with water, and I move slowly, washing him carefully. My fingers trace the hard lines of his muscles, the ripples of his stomach, the tattoo going across his ribs.