AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, peeps. Sorry I was a little slow with the update this time. I've missed you! Muah! *blows kisses*

TWITTER: @lovethedinklage

*****

SHERRY:

"Hmm?" I reply. My eyes snap up to meet his and based on the naughty glint I see, I know I've been caught looking.

"Sherry, Sherry, Sherry..." Harry begins in a low voice.

I can feel my face redden as the sound of my name rolling off his tongue in that British accent is almost enough to bring me to orgasm, signifying that my momentary dominance has come to an abrupt end.

Harry concludes with a smirk, "My how the tables have turned."

*****

SHERRY

"You wish." I deadpan, adding an eyeroll for emphasis.

"Well? What are waiting for? Lather me up, baby." His eyes lock into mine as he runs his left hand casually down his chest. "All of this," Harry gestures to his upper body, "is even more impressive when it's wet and slippery."

I hate him so fucking much right now. This motherfucking motherfucker. A subject change would be good here.

"I thought you had to wear a back brace?" Thank you, Jesus, for giving me something to say.

"They took it off before I left the hospital. It itched like crazy. Besides, it would have blocked your lovely view of my abs."

"You're an asshole."

"Good to know you enjoy dirty talk. I'll remember that."

Doing my best to ignore him, I take a washcloth, dip it in the tub with the soapy water, and wring it out thoroughly.

"Face first while the water's cleanest," I bring the warm, somewhat soapy cloth to his face and wipe his skin with a firm but gentle hand. Next I dip a second cloth into the rinsing tub and use it to rinse away the soap, patting his face dry with a towel. Harry's eyes are closed the whole time I'm washing his face, and he's smiling. His eyelashes are incredible. I think I hate him.

"I love the smell of fabric softener," Harry inhales. "It always smells so fresh." What a goober.

I continue to check him out while his eyes are closed. Next I focus on his lips, which kind of curl up when he talks because he enunciates everything so clearly. His cuteness is causing me chest pains.

"Arm up," I nudge him to lift his left arm so I can tuck a towel beneath his torso to keep the bed from getting wet. Now that I'm done washing his face, I can no longer ogle him without his knowledge, so I'm a tad disappointed.

I continue with the bath in a similar manner using the two water tubs. Place a towel beneath the area to be bathed, lather him up with the soapy water and soapy cloth, rinse him with the clear water and clear cloth, and then towel dry each area. Left arm, right arm, torso.

Bathing his torso and abs becomes a battle of the wills. Harry's feeble attempts to slay me with smoldering glances and sexy talk are easily thwarted because of his extreme ticklishness and broken arm. He pouts a bit when he realizes he can't win and I don't hesitate to rub it in. I'm thankful for the joking because otherwise the sexual tension when I scrub his happy trail would be unbearable.

Harry tells me which drawer to find fresh t-shirts in, and while he's applying an exorbitant amount of deodorant, I choose a heather grey one. It has a pocket with a heart on it that says "lover." It makes me smile.

"How much deodorant do you need?" I shake my head.

"I always worry about deodorant. It's invisible, right? So I feel like I need to keep applying more and more since I can't actually see that it's getting on my skin. Even now, I don't see anything. Do you?" Harry raises his arms over his head and looks back and forth between his armpits and then at me.

"Look at my pits, Sherry. You know you want to." He winks, and I help him put on his fresh t-shirt.

"You're a freak," I tell him as I walk out of the room with one of the water tubs.

I replace the water in the tubs with fresh, warm water before I start on his bottom half. He's wearing boxers, so there's no worries about me seeing anything I shouldn't. Harry's a little upset that I need to move his catheter tube out of the way for the time being, but I distract him with a flirt and a tickle, and somehow manage to get it done.

Harry babbles on about some of his homework assignments while I wash his legs, but I only hear half of what he says because this boy's legs are fucking magnificent. I imagine him healed and walking around the house wearing boxer briefs or athletic shorts. Then I imagine him on his knees between my legs as he guides his cock into me for the first time. I am breaking in my new Saturday panties with a hefty dose of the WP.

"Almost done," I say, lifting his ankles one at a time so I can slip a towel beneath his feet. "You have nice feet for a guy. Most guys have toes like trees."

"Really?" He says, surprised. "Don't even think of touching my toes inappropriately," he almost snorts at his own joke.

I'm wiping between his toes with a washcloth, thinking. "Why don't they call these toe pits? Here in between your toes? Armpits get a name, and technically only a portion of the arm is part of the pit itself. The rest of the pit is on your torso." I'm washing, rinsing, and drying, apparently saying all of this aloud.

I look up at Harry. "Why are you just sitting there grinning like that? Don't you have an opinion? The toes are getting gypped, Harry. This is an outrageous injustice!"

"You're kind of a dork." Harry smirks.

"Hey, dorks are all the rage these days. Bill Gates. Steve Jobs. Sheldon Cooper."

"I know. I think this realization only deepens my current level of infatuation."

He is too adorable for me to deal with. I take the bathing tubs to the bathroom for a cleaning, and then I deliver the dirty towels to the laundry room.

Returning to Harry's room, I pull my phone from my pocket and take a seat in the chair by his bedside.

"I'm gonna have to get going, it's late," I say, checking the time.

"Already?" He whines, but I can tell he's a little tired.

"Well, it was late when I got here. I have to catch up on schoolwork tomorrow. We need to look at yours too. Monday?"

"Umm...I already did mine. I told you during my bath," he smirks. "Perhaps you were distracted?"

"Whatever," I blow it off. "Where's your stuff? I can drop it off with your professors on Monday."

"You were distracted by my sexy toes, weren't you?" He teases.

"Shut up, I was not," I protest, looking around the room and seeing Harry's pile of schoolwork on the dresser.

"Everything that goes back is in the green folder. Anything that could be submitted electronically, I already sent in."

"I'm impressed." I tell him, shoving the folder into my oversized purse.

"That purse is ridiculous." Harry comments.

"I need it so I can smuggle snacks into the movie theater. Once I snuck in twelve-inch subs for me and a friend!"

"You couldn't survive for two hours without twelve inches?" He smiles with pride at his double entendre.

"You'll appreciate it when we see a movie together and I whip out the badass snacks," I retort from the doorway. "I'll see you Monday?"

"Oh no," Harry shakes his head. "This isn't gonna work for me."

"What?"

"I require a proper goodnight. And in my imagined scenario, you are not standing in the doorway while this goodnight is occurring."

"I'll need you to run that scenario by me for approval while I'm still at a safe distance," I wink.

"Absolutely not," he deadpans. "Bring that Saturday ass over here."

How he kept a straight face while patting the mattress next to him was beyond me, but it was hot as hell.

I walk over to him and defy him by sitting on the chair instead of the bed as requested. Not that I want to defy him on purpose, but something about him makes me feel shy sometimes. Who am I and what happened to my normal self?

"Thanks for the shampoo and bath, Sherry. And the yogurt," he smiles. He reaches for my hand and gives a couple tugs until I move to the mattress as originally requested.

"Well, I'm sorry you had a crappy day," I tell him. I haven't known him very long, but he seems to be such a kind and genuine spirit. I feel compelled to take care of him. I want to take care of him. My secret sappiness knows no bounds.

"Soooo...," Harry raises his eyebrows, "9 ½ Weeks on Monday? That was the deal."

"You're sure you caught up on all your schoolwork?" I feel his arm slide around my waist, and I bring my feet up on the bed next to his.

"Yes, I did it when you were gone. That way when you're here, we can do other fun stuff instead, yeah?" he says, causing my temperature to rise.

Harry pulls my body to him with his good arm. "Other, funner, better stuff," he whispers as he leans in and presses his lips to mine in a soft kiss.

His lips are going to lead me to an early demise where I'm surrounded by hellfire, no doubt, but that's a chance I'm willing to take. He pulls back, kisses my nose, then my cheek. He sits and looks at me a moment, his eyes flickering over my features. I feel his hand slip under the back of my shirt, his fingertips graze my back and I want more of him.

"You like that?" He asks, rubbing his hand from the small of my back, up to just below my bra, and then back down again. He knows I like it. He just wants me to say it. But I don't.

Instead, I rest my hand idly on his stomach and then slowly find my way beneath his t-shirt. I watch my hand at work because I'm no longer strong enough to look him in the eye without jumping on top of him and riding him like a pony, but I figure that might not be a good idea considering his condition.

"Sherry," I hear him say my name as my hand explores his stomach.

I know he's watching me as I reply with a tad of sarcasm, "Yes, dear?"

He's quiet, and when I decide to look up at him, his eyes are intense as his tongue moistens his bottom lip.

"You're beautiful," falls out of my mouth against my will. Leave it to me to ruin a good moment.

Surprised, Harry laughs as his face turns pink, not knowing what to say – but the humor's gone quickly as he pulls me to him, kissing me harder now, with urgency. My hand strokes his neck as he devours my lips between his own.

It confuses him for a moment when I pull back, "Your hair," I breathe out, reaching up and pulling the elastic out and flinging it across the room.

He smirks, pulling me to him in a tight embrace, biting my lip, then licking away the delicious pain. My hands run through his hair, tugging with impatience as his tongue parts my eager lips and fills my mouth. He is perfect.

I moan as I press my body up against his side, unashamed.

Harry kisses my lips softly, my cheek, my jawline, my neck. I whimper as he sucks and nips at my skin, knowing it's going to leave a mark. With his hungry lips now beneath my ear, his right hand is doing a damn good job of sliding beneath the front of my shirt despite his broken arm.

Harry continues to nuzzle my neck, his hand taking ownership of my stomach in soft, massage-like strokes. Self-conscious, I cover his hand with my own in a casual attempt at distraction as I murmur his name in soft protest.

"Don't hide from me, baby," Harry gazes at me with those green eyes as his hand rubs above my belly button area, and then upward, cupping my left breast firmly. He maintains eye contact as he proceeds to rub my nipple into a hardened state through the cup of my thin bra. My face is heated and I know should look away, but am unable in my intense state of arousal.

A weird noise snaps me from my sexy haze as I scramble to my feet by Harry's bedside, making a desperate attempt to straighten my t-shirt and appear innocent, when I am far from it.

"Well, well, well. Playing doctor now, are we?" She said, her toe tapping on the hardwoods.

It was Paige.