To erase Justin’s scowl, Faith washed his face with undue vigor, disregarding his string of oaths. As she began washing his chest, his interest became pointed and disquieting, and she became self-conscious.
“Faith, you missed a spot.” Even his voice had gained strength since he began to recover.
She had no doubt that he took pleasure in fanning the embers of her discomfort. “Where”
He pointed obscurely, somewhere below his belly. “There.”
“Your vocabulary seems to have taken wing, your wits along with it. I indicate your lack because I am uncomfortable, Faith, and would like to be washed more thoroughly. More zealously.”
Lord, his words shivered her in the most incredible places.
He raised a brow. “Surely the procedure is not abhorrent to you. Because, my dear, you look as if you have taken a disgust of your work. And with the lavish wages my brother is paying you.”
Faith shut her mouth and inhaled deeply. She dipped the cloth in hot water and lathered it. Perhaps if it was thick with suds and she washed his ... parts ... with speed....
She re-washed his chest, garnering the courage to work her way toward that dreaded triangle of mystery.
“Surely mine is not the first man's body you have seen?”
How could a voice she’d prayed to hear while he was in a coma infuriate her so? “Certainly not.” Of course she’d never seen another man's body. Justin's body was quite different from little Andy's.
Hands shaking, determined to finish the task, Faith arrived at that dratted location. Making certain a thick layer of suds covered him well, she did a most thorough wash, scrubbing around and under certain appendages the likes of which she yearned to examine at her leisure.
Did she? Faith lowered her chin to hide her color and scrubbed harder.
“Bloody hell!” Justin nearly doubled over cupping himself.
They were softer than she expected. “Did I hurt them?”
“I wanted to be washed not castrated.”