“I’m going to help you into the tub first.”

“I can get in without help.”

She props a fist on her hip. “You couldn’t get your feet up on the couch last night without help.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. Well, go ahead and get in, then.” She takes a step back and motions for me to have at it.

“With my boxers on?”

“Yes, Bishop. With your boxers on. You’re not going to burn candles and sip wine while reading your favorite trashy book. You’re going to sit in a warm bath for fifteen minutes, and then we’re going to assess the damage and see how stiff you are.”

“Fuck. Fine.” I brace my hands on the edge of the tub and turn my body, thinking it’ll be easier to get my good leg over first, and then I can lift the injured one in.

In theory it’s a fantastic idea. In practice it’s a terrible idea. I manage to get my good leg up and over, but the pain is excruciating. I scream and grab Stevie because she’s the closest, most stable thing I can hold on to. The water in the tub is warm, but it’s got nothing on the fire in my goddamn groin.

“Fucking Christ, it feels like my balls are trying to detach from my body,” I groan.

“Would you like some help getting into the tub now?” The “I told you so” is clear in her tone.

“I need a minute.” I take several semishallow breaths, waiting for the sick feeling and ball burning to cease.

It isn’t until I’m no longer blinded by pain that I realize I’m full-on hugging Stevie and that her arms are trapped at her sides. My cheek is also pressed against her boob. I was right about it being a soft place to rest my head.

“Sorry.” I release her.

“Maybe next time you’ll stow the alpha ‘I can do it on my own’ bullshit and save yourself some unnecessary pain.”

She makes me lift my arm and drapes it over her shoulder. She’s incredibly small compared to me. She tucks one arm under my knee and gently grips the back of my calf with the other. “On the count of three,” she orders. I tense up when she hits three. She gets my leg about six inches off the floor, which is when I scream bloody murder again and grab on to her with both hands.

“Okay. That’s not going to work. The angle is too awkward.” She taps her lip and holds her finger up. “I have an idea.”

She ducks out from under my arm and hooks her fingers in the waistband of her yoga pants.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Calm down. Some bathing suits have less coverage than my underwear. Besides, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

She kicks off her yoga pants, leaving her in a T-shirt and panties. They’re plain cotton boy shorts, which should be a good thing, but apparently my body doesn’t care that it’s not a satin or lace thong. All it cares about is the proximity of almost-naked pussy.

Rook’s sister is standing in my bathroom in her underwear. If I had a sister who looked like Stevie and I knew that she was standing in one of my teammate’s bathrooms half-naked, I would probably kick the shit out of the guy. Thankfully, I have a brother.

I try to keep my eyes averted, sort of, but I catch her reflection in the vanity mirror.

She has fantastic legs. Athletic. Strong. And her ass. Goddamn. She definitely does a lot of squats, based on how round and firm it looks. The ache in my groin turns into that stabbing pain again because I’m getting hard. I think about my grandmother in a bathing suit to counteract the effect of Stevie being partly undressed.

She steps into the tub, and I force myself to keep my eyes down, bringing up the image of that hot chick in the tub who turns into a rotting old lady in The Shining. That helps a bit. At least until Stevie moves into my personal space and starts touching me again. I mutter a string of profanity, especially when I feel her boob pressed against my arm for a few seconds. I have no choice but to latch on to her shoulder as we lift my leg over the edge of the tub. I’m sweating, I’m angry, and I hate my dick.

“I need you to stop touching me!” It’s stupid because I’m still holding on to her, not the other way around.

“Why are you yelling at me?” she shouts back.

“Because you’re half-undressed in my tub, and I’m a guy, and apparently my dick is a fucking sadist. It honestly feels like my balls are on fire right now. A semi has never been this painful.”

“Well, close your damn eyes and think about dead things.”

“It doesn’t matter if I close them. The image of you in panties is burned into the back of my lids, probably for the rest of my fucking life. It’s all I can see.”

“You’d think you’d never seen a set of bare legs before.” She helps me lower myself into the tub and steps out.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a pair up close,” I grumble.

“Such a surprise, with your warm, fuzzy personality.”

I try not to look as she aggressively yanks a towel free from the bar and swipes it down her toned, wet legs. They look smooth and soft. Also, I used that towel yesterday. So she’s sort of wiping my junk on her legs. It quite literally feels like my balls are filled with acid instead of semen, which I’d like to now unload all over her bare thighs.

She nabs her yoga pants from the floor and heads for the door.