He's staling. Why? Amy watched him aligning the towels and washcloths on the counter in the bathroom. He had already quickly cleaned the shower- to make sure it was perfect for her, of course. And he had lined up the Star Wars shampoo and conditioner. He had straightened the shower curtain three times. He turned then, and moved toward the shower, turning the knobs. He felt the water warm with his hand, testing the temperature. Amy watched him nod hesitantly. He had hugged her in the bedroom, but since they had entered the bathroom, he had become distracted and aloof. If she didn't know better, she would think that he was shy, or perhaps, he was nervous about seeing her naked.
Considering how naked she'd been about an hour ago, she didn't think that could be it. Maybe he had been repulsed? Stop that. He doesn't find you repulsive. For crying out loud, he was about to have sex with you. It must be something else, she reasoned. None of that mattered anyway. What mattered was getting her hair washed and getting ready for the day. She had a lot to do. And at some point, she and Sheldon needed to talk because she would need to contact her mother if he was uncomfortable with her remaining here in his apartment for the long haul. Biting her lip, she considered this and she hoped they had moved beyond that.
"Sheldon?" she asked, trying to force him to look at her, as he was still delaying her actual shower. "Can I start my shower now?"
Sheldon stopped what he was doing, whatever he was doing. He forced himself to lift his chin from the floor and to meet her eyes. She has such beautiful eyes, green and gold. "Of course. The temperature should be sufficient. If it needs to be adjusted, please just notify me." He looked over her and realized she was still clothed in his pajama top. "Do you need assistance removing your clothing?" She shook her head, and demurely looked down, her hands grasping the edge of her shirt. She tried to grip the edge with her wrist, but she winced.
He noticed her discomfort and stepped closer. "I'll help you," he said, his voice dropping nearly to a whisper.
He reached out and began to unbutton the shirt. His fingers slipped over the buttons quickly and efficiently, and in no time at all, a thin line of her skin became exposed to his eyes. He glanced at all that cream and rose and began to push the top away from her shoulders. "Turn," he whispered again, feeling his cheeks warm. Automatically acquiescing, Amy turned, showing her still-covered back to him. His hands had shifted and sat atop of her slightly bared shoulders. He gently moved the shirt down her arms, exposing more and more of her back to him. When she pulled her arms from the shirt, he set it aside quickly, but returned his hands to her warm skin, his eyes settling on the curve of her backside. He let his fingers drift slowly down the curve of her spine and back up, moving her hair to the side. His other hand went to the top of her panties. Slipping his hand under the band, he heard her quiet intake of breath. He lowered his lips to her neck and pressed a light kiss there, at the nape of her neck. A moan escaped her lips and she leaned back against his hand, his fingers traveling lightly over her backside. He shook his head and pulled himself away from her. He was already breaking his professional code. Her alluring backside had distracted him from his purpose: nursing her.
He quickly pulled her panties down and helped her step out of them. "Come," he stated, gesturing toward the shower stall. His voice sounded alien to him, the need so apparent in his timbre. He kept his eyes at her feet, trying to control his body's reactions. "The water is running, and we don't want it to get cold." He guided her into the stall, holding her steady with her good hand as she stepped over the tub and into the spray.
What is he doing to me? She was practically a puddle of mush. His hands, God his hands: wherever he touched a fire ignited and spread on her skin. She was so unsteady, he needed to help her into the shower. The water was hot, and the pressure was intense upon her sensitive skin. Moaning slightly, she stepped fully under the spray, awkwardly holding her casted wrist away from the water. Sheldon had wrapped it pretty solidly in saran-wrap and tape, but the last thing she wanted was a sodden air-cast. "Washcloth?" she asked, using her good hand to wet her hair. She closed her eyes, enjoying the pressure of the water.
Sheldon was just staring at her, arousal clear on his face as he watched the droplets of water travel down her curves. He gulped in air like a choking man. She was talking to him! What did she say? "Hmm?" he asked her. Dense. Coherent sentences are a thing, Cooper. Control yourself.
"Washcloth?" she said again.
"Right. Washcloth." he muttered. He reached for the washcloth, and soaping it up, he moved toward the spray of water. "I'll do it," he said. Taking the cloth, he began to run it over her skin, watching the suds build-up. She mewled as his hand passed over her breasts. He continued to gently wash her skin with the cloth, moving over her body thoroughly. Her body felt like it was electrified. She was tingling all over. She was lost in a sea of sensation. She heard Sheldon's breathing- definitely more labored than usual, and then felt him pull his hand- and the cloth- away from her body. He turned his eyes away from her.
"Here," he began, "You'll want to, um, wash your private parts." He handed her the cloth, making sure to keep his gaze steadily on the wall. He was overwhelmed and outrageously aroused. He was so hard, there was no way Amy hadn't noticed. He felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. He had to stop looking at her, and worse, touching her, or things might get too messy for him to handle. He turned away, hoping to distract himself, but he could see the silhouette of her curves behind the thin shower curtain depicting the periodic table in the mirror. He gulped again and turned to face the door instead.
"Sheldon? Can you help me wash my hair?" Turning back to her, she watched him contorting his face. "Are you ok?" She asked him. His eye twitched as he nodded.
"Turn and face the wall so I can get to your hair easier." She turned sideways in the stall, facing the tile. He poured some shampoo into his hand and stretched his hand out, gently rubbed the shampoo over her scalp and through her wet tresses. The feel of his hands in her hair was somehow more sexually potent than she expected, and her legs felt a little unsteady. She placed her good hand on the tile for support, and her back arched toward his hands. She felt like a cat, stretching for a scratch. He was using the water to rinse the shampoo and her heart rate spiked as his hands drifted across her back. He repeated the process with the conditioner, and by the time he was done, she was a quivering mess. She looked at him over her shoulder and gave him her best come-hither glance.
He immediately stepped back, as though hit with a bat. "Don't look at me like that, you Vixen." She blushed becomingly and it was all he could do not to grab hold of her and drag her wet body against his. He distracted himself by reaching up and turning the knobs. He stared at the wall until the water stopped dripping from the faucet. In another feeble attempt at controlling his urges, he turned and reached for a towel. Returning his gaze to her, he seemed at a loss for further words. He pushed the curtain open further, and trying desperately not to look over her naked body, he started to gently try her. When she was sufficiently dry, he wrapped the towel around her. She braced it against her with her injured hand, and he helped her out of the shower. Holding her steady, he looked down at her, his blue eyes looking deeply into her green ones. Neither spoke, so intense was the gaze and meaningful the moment: as if a promise stood in the air around them. Finally, speaking very quietly, Sheldon broke their silent communion.
"Let's get you dressed."
