Chapter 43

He dropped the kit off in the bathroom before returning to the bedroom to ferret out towels and Rob’s ‘lazy clothes’—a soft grey T-shirt so worn it felt more silk than cotton, and baggy pyjama bottoms that were so long even on Rob that the sight of his bare feet poking out from the ends always made Eli feel tender and warm. And tenderness was called for, when Eli had overstepped the mark enough to leave blood.

“Rob, baby,” he whispered, bending over the bed and kissing Rob’s hair. The pet name—so usually for Eli, not for Rob—slipped free, and maybe it was the unusualness of that which roused the sleeping dragon. “C’mon, babe,” Eli murmured when a blurry grey eye cracked open. “Bath time.”

“Bath?” Rob croaked. His voice was hoarse and raspy.

Eli kissed his ear, a spark of arousal stirring in his crotch even as the need to tend to Rob’s back tempered any true interest.

“Mhmm. Your shoulder’s split open, baby, I need to look after it.”