Page 173 of Dissolving Prejudice

“My ass hurts from sitting so much.”

I snorted at the irony. “Poor you.”

“You love it when yours hurts,” he teased, and I chuckled.

“True.”

“I’m hot,” he whined and pulled at his shirt collar to fan himself.

“Stop complaining all the time. It makes you sound old.”

“I’m nearly twenty-five.”

“Which is young.” I flicked his temple.

“Hey.” He winced, rubbing the spot I hit him. “I’m hurt, remember?”

“You’re going to be if you continue whining.” I gripped the wheelchair’s handles harder, my teeth clashing together as I held back from hitting him again.

What could I say? I lacked the caregiver bone in my body.

“Is that a threat?” the asshole dared to provoke me.

“No. But if you keep complaining, I’ll make sure to hire a nurse to bathe you instead of me.”

Camilo glared at me over his shoulder. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Why? Worried about someone else scrubbing your dick too hard?”

The corners of his mouth turned up into a cocky grin. “As if your jealous ass would allow it.”

He has a point.

“True. And between you and me, washing your monstrous cock is more of a privilege than a task,” I joked when he sent his head back with a grunt.

Using his healthy hand, he rubbed his crotch. “I’m horny as fuckkk.”

“Well, you’ll have to wait because the doctor said—”

“That I can’t have sex for a few more weeks,” he hissed, his eyes rolling. “This is hell.”

While I shared his sexual frustration, as I missed sitting on his face more than I could put into words, I also didn’t want him to be depressed. After all, one of the most important parts of recovery was staying positive.

“Look how pretty those flowers are,” I said, pointing over at the roses we just passed by.

Camilo glanced at the bush, a bored expression on his face. “Sure.”

“How about you grow some when we get back home?”

“Roses need sun,” he said.

“So?”

“So we don’t have much sun in my shitty place.” He flopped his hands over his lap.

Little grump.

“So… we’ll move. I’ve already got my eye on a beautiful property.”