Page 20 of Playing With The Mountain Man

“I was going to say warmer, but that fits too.”

“Definitely warmer. Your shower is a dream,” I complimented.

“I wouldn’t know,” he replied as he set the bottle down, picked up the glasses, and strode toward me, handing me one.

“You wouldn’t?”

“I’ve never used the main bath. I do know the one in my bathroom has the most amazing massage jets. They were definitely worth the investment,” he explained. “Cheers,” he toasted, clinking his wine glass against mine.

The wine was perfect. Cool and crisp, and now I’d warmed up, I could appreciate it.

When Cody reached for my hand, I took it without hesitation. He led me across the room to the couch before gesturing for me to sit. I sank into the buttery soft leather before he sat beside me.

“How’s your knee?” he asked.

“Sore,” I admitted, “but I’ll live. My pride probably hurts more than anything else.”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about. Anyone could’ve slipped out there.”

“Maybe. But I was the one to do it. How’s your shoulder?” I asked, and his whole body went rigid at my words.

“My shoulder?”

“I saw the look on your face, Cody. Did I hurt you?” I asked, feeling guilty. If he had been hurt trying to stop me from falling face-first in the mud, I’d feel even worse.

“It’ll be fine.” He brushed off my concern.

“Is it really, or are you just being stubborn?” I challenged.

In an attempt to prove he really was fine, he rolled his arm trying to work the kink out of his shoulder. But I saw the way his face twisted in agony at the movement.

Without a word, I set my wine down and limped over to the kitchen.

“What are you looking for?” he called out.

I didn’t answer. Instead, I yanked open his freezer, looking for something that could help. An ice pack, a bag of peas, anything that would work. After a few minutes of digging behind the frozen meals and pizzas, I came up trumps with two ice packs. I wrapped them in a dish towel and hobbled back to the living area.

“Take your shirt off,” I instructed.

Cody eyed me like I’d lost my mind.

“You heard me. Take it off,” I repeated.

He pulled it over his head in that sexy way guys make look effortless. At least it would’ve been sexy if I hadn’t heard the hiss of pain as he dropped it on the floor beside him.

“Happy now?” he retorted smugly.

Fucking ecstatic. But I couldn't say that. In fact, at that moment, I couldn’t really say anything at all. The words were caught in my throat as I blatantly ogled him. The man was a work of art. A very fine work of art. He was all tanned muscle. The tattoo across his pec had me wanting to take a closer look. And those abs. They were fucking sinful. For someone who devoured bacon and pancakes like it was his last meal, they were something else.

“Turn around,” I choked out, my tongue thick and my mouth dry. My panties, on the other hand, were fucking ruined.

“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed, twisting so his back was to me.

Fuck my life. His back was just as good as his front.

I lifted the ice pack and pressed it against his skin. He jerked away from me.

“Oh, stop being a baby and tell me where it needs to be,” I called him out.