I place her gently on a ledge of the tub and grab her a towel to cover herself with. It’s less for her modesty and more for me to keep my breathing regular. I turn the water on warm and walk out to grab her herbal remedies and the salve for her wounds. When I get back to the door, I hear a clatter, and, trying to push it open; I find it locked.
“Ali?” I call out to her.
“I can bathe myself, Alpha Wade.”
“I’m sure you are capable of a normal bath all on your own. This is a medical wound cleaning.” I say, trying to convince her of the innocence of the act. I may be achingly hard, but that doesn’t mean I can’t control myself. Maybe.
“I will be fine.”
“Ali, I promise not to do anything.” There is silence, and I hear her groan in pain. I place my hand on the door, trying to listen for her.
