Chapter 3
"Babcock," he swallowed as he settled on the towel beside the tub again. "There are limits to a man's ability to remain a gentleman."
"When were you ever a gentleman?" She taunted, and slipped the cloth into his hand.
He took it and added more shower gel. "Every single day of my life until I met you," he said. Gingerly, he ran the cloth over her neck, then her upper chest. He avoided the angry bruise on her collarbone, and wondered if she genuinely meant to allow him to spread the lather over her breasts. He was a little afraid of how much he hoped she did.
"Gentlemen bore me," she said, and moved the hand of his that had been on her shoulder so that it rested lightly on her breast. What the hell, she figured. She craved his hands on her, and she wasn't going to deprive herself of something so readily available.
His mouth dropped open in genuine shock. They'd been teasing and almost—but this was the first irrefutable sign that maybe she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He squeezed experimentally, and she leaned her head against his chest, sighing out a "Just like that," as he exerted more pressure. He offered no complaint as the conditioner from her hair coated his skin. Covered with the cloth, he moved his other hand in slow circles over her left breast.
Her chest heaved as she sucked in a breath, and he transferred the cloth to his right hand, giving that breast the same attention. Touching her sudsy breast with his left hand, he let his fingers slide over her slick skin, palming the weight of her breast.
Niles asked himself, somewhat detachedly, what was keeping him from hyperventilating. Ever since he and Miss Babcock had eaten those cookies, he had gone back and forth between being certain that the attraction they'd shared had been chemically induced and wondering if maybe, just maybe, there were something more to it than that. And now he balanced on increasingly numb knees and rubbed her nipple between his fingers, at her own request.
She arched her back and moaned, her breath quickening. She rested her head against his shoulder, and he nuzzled her cheek with his chin. His stubble both tickled and aroused.
"I—" he began to say.
"Don't, just…" She interrupted him, not wanting doubts or even worse, declarations to draw them out of this haze that enveloped them.
He caressed her cheek with his lips, and she felt his tongue against her jaw, briefly. She wound her right arm around his neck, running her fingers through the hair at the base of his skull. He transferred the cloth and moved his right hand on her breast, working her nipple, and with the cloth in his left, burned a soapy trail down her belly, stopping between her legs. When she felt him there, she closed her eyes and tilted her hips and didn't even try to contain her whimper of desire.
He finally dropped the pretense of the washcloth, and when she felt his bare hand on her under the bath water, she moaned. He explored her folds, rubbing her deliberately until the tingle spread up her spine and she wanted to cry out.
How had this gone from Niles helping wash her hair to his fingers on her clit? And, oh, for the love of everything holy, inside her, she thought, as she spread her knees wider. She was not a woman who very often lost her ability to think clearly, even on the brink of orgasm. Her thoughts became fleeting in favor of the sensations he stirred in her. He touched her skillfully, as if he'd been tracing the contours of her body for years. The meds, she remembered gratefully. It must be the pain pills. No way could he have this effect on her otherwise. It was her last conscious thought as he twisted her nipple, pressed his thumb against her clit, and thrust two fingers up and forward. She inhaled roughly, deep breaths, and still felt that she couldn't get enough oxygen. She let her good arm fall at her side.
"Christ almighty," Niles exhaled, his own respiration nearly as disrupted as hers. He wrapped her in his arms, easing her back against the tub. He stretched for a hand towel from the rack and dabbed the conditioner off his chest and shoulder as they both caught their breath. The woman had one hell of an effect on him, and he hadn't even-
"You learn that at Oxford, too?" She took his hand and rested her cheek against it.
Her gesture surprised him by the intimacy of it, and he curled his fingers tenderly around her chin. "A gentleman never tells," he quipped.
"I thought we already established how I feel about gentlemen," she countered, and dropped a tiny kiss against his palm before shoving his hand away. If he hadn't been watching her so closely, he might not have even noticed. That, even more than what she had just let him do, made hope rise in his chest.
"The water's getting cold," she whined.
"Let's get you out of here and back to bed, kiddo," he said warmly, and turned on the water. Efficiently, he rinsed the conditioner from her hair and the soap bubbles from her body. He put the showerhead down and released the plug so that the remaining water could drain, then stood and grasped Babcock's hips once again to help her stand. Overbalanced by the heavy cast, she lost her footing and fell into his arms, and he caught her easily.
Making eye contact for the first time since Niles had begun to help her bathe, CC grinned at him, an expression as roguish as it was playful. "This isn't nearly as awkward as I thought it would be," she observed, bringing her thumb to rest lightly on his bottom lip.
He nipped at the digit. "So you've spent a lot of time thinking about it, I take it."
"Not as much as you have, I'm sure," she retorted regally, looking down her nose at him.
He closed the distance between them, crossing the barrier created by the edge of the tub. She pressed her lips to his, and the kiss was unhurried. He held her steady with a hand on her waist, and let the other drift down to cup her bottom possessively.
CC felt his tongue against her lips, and swayed a bit. As the kiss deepened, it became clear to her that she was disgracefully close to being unable to remain on her feet. She pulled back from him and said waspishly, "I'm freezing."
"That has not been my experience," he laughed. Spraying the last few bubbles clinging to her legs, he shut off the water and picked up her thick towel. "Hold onto me," he said, and rubbed the towel over her body.
"Bossy," she grumbled, and squeezed his shoulder as he helped her step out of the bathtub.
Niles wrapped an extra towel around her dripping hair, squeezing the excess water out. He picked up the comb on the counter and ran it through her tangles, then unwrapped the plastic protecting her cast. It was the work of a minute, but she was already unsteady on her feet.
"What do you want to wear?" He asked, his arm around her lower back for support as they walked back out into the bedroom.
"Don't care, just want to lie down." The drowsiness of opiates combined with a hot bath, a massage, and an unexpected orgasm was more than even CC Babcock could resist, and she was fading fast.
Niles heaved a sigh. "I'll find you something."
"Don't wanna wear what I had on earlier, and I'll kill you if you cut up any more of my clothes," she threatened.
He waggled his eyebrows. "Topless it is, then." He rummaged through the first drawer of the bureau to find a pair of panties and silk sleep pants. He helped her into them and patted her knee.
She wiggled her toes and said, "Get me a tank top, at least. I can just leave the strap down."
"Oh, all right," he grimaced, and found one in the second drawer. "You're going to have to step into it."
"Obviously," she responded with disdain, grabbing his arm as she stood up. She shimmied the top over her hips and Niles held the right strap for her so she could slip it over her uninjured arm.
He resisted pressing his lips to the skin exposed by the other dangling strap, but it was a near thing. "Let me get your neck brace," he said.
"Hate that damn thing," she murmured as she sank back down on the edge of the bed.
Niles scooped up the brace and climbed behind her on the mattress so he could secure it.
"Now may I finally lie down, Nurse Ratched?"
"Yes, you may, worst patient ever," he said, and piled up the pillows she needed to support the weight of her cast. He pulled the sheet and blanket over her, ensuring her warmth in spite of her scanty sleepwear. He made his way towards the bathroom so he could gather his clothing and leave her to rest.
Her eyes already shut, she said softly, "You don't have to go."
His heart began to pound. "Tell you what," he began. "Let me, ah, take a quick shower and I'll be back in a flash."
"Can use mine. But prob'ly not much hot water left," she said, trailing off into a near-doze.
"Not a problem," he said wryly, and with one last lingering glance at her, he stepped into the bathroom.
As he closed the door, he could have sworn he heard her low, drowsy laugh.
THE END