Chapter 253

Serena's POV

I was about to leave his bedroom when I heard Lucas's voice behind me. "Serena." The way he said my name sent an involuntary shiver down my spine.

I stood frozen, biting my lower lip, deliberately keeping my back to him. The evening shadows were growing longer, casting strange shapes across the hardwood floor beneath my feet. I could hear the soft hum of the air conditioning and the distant sound of traffic below.

"Wait a moment," he said, his voice carrying that familiar commanding tone that always made my heart skip a beat. "I need your help with something."

"Put some clothes on first," I reminded him, trying to keep my voice steady. The memory of walking in on him fresh from the shower was still burning in my mind.

"It's not like you're at a disadvantage here," he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

I sighed inwardly. He was wrong - I was definitely at a disadvantage. Every moment spent alone with him tested my resolve in ways I wasn't ready to acknowledge.

After what felt like an eternity, he spoke again. "Alright, I'm decent."

I turned around slowly, steeling myself for whatever "decent" meant in Lucas Harrington's vocabulary. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, wearing a white robe that hung loosely on his broad shoulders. While he wasn't exactly exposed, the casual way the fabric draped across his body left little to imagination. The fading sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows cast a golden glow across his features, softening his usually sharp expression.

"What kind of help?" I asked, proud that my voice remained steady despite the way my pulse had quickened.

"My thigh," he explained, gesturing to his leg. "The wound from the accident hasn't completely healed. I think it might be slightly infected. Would you mind helping me apply some medication? It's in an awkward spot."

I frowned, concern momentarily overriding my discomfort. "The accident? You mean from when I..." My voice trailed off as the memories of that rainy night came flooding back - the screeching tires, the crash, and Lucas appearing out of nowhere to pull me from the wreckage.

"Yes, from when you had your accident," he confirmed softly. "It's been bothering me lately."

"This long and it still hasn't healed?" I moved closer, medical concern winning over my personal reservations. I noticed the first aid kit already laid out on the bedside table, making me wonder if he had planned this entire scenario. Knowing Lucas, he probably had.

"That's why it needs attention," he explained, shifting slightly on the bed. "I haven't been taking proper care of it."

I approached the bed where he sat, noticing how the expensive sheets were perfectly arranged despite his recent shower. Everything in his room spoke of precise organization, from the aligned books on the shelves to the perfectly positioned furniture - everything except for the man himself, who seemed deliberately disheveled in his loose robe.

When he adjusted his position and pulled the robe up to reveal the injury, I nearly lost my professional demeanor. The wound was high up on his inner thigh, and I could tell he wasn't wearing anything underneath the robe. I forced myself to focus on the task at hand, reaching for the antiseptic and healing cream.

Kneeling beside the bed, I began to clean the wound. He was right - it showed signs of infection, the skin around it slightly inflamed. "You should have taken better care of this," I chided softly, trying to ignore how intimate this position felt.

"It's not exactly easy to reach," he replied, his voice slightly strained. "And I've been... distracted lately."

Something in his tone made me look up, only to find his intense gray eyes fixed on my face. I quickly looked back down at my task, feeling heat rise to my cheeks.

"This might sting," I warned, applying the antiseptic. I heard his sharp intake of breath and felt his muscles tense under my fingers.

"Does it hurt?" I asked, though I knew it must.

"No," he lied, making me roll my eyes at his typical stubbornness.

I gentled my touch, carefully applying the medication. Without thinking, I leaned closer and blew softly on the wound to ease the sting, something I used to do for Stella when she got scrapes and bruises.

The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted. The air grew thick with tension, and I became acutely aware of how close I was to him, how my breath against his skin had made his muscles tense in a way that had nothing to do with pain. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by our slightly uneven breathing.

Through the soft fabric of his bathrobe, I caught a glimpse of his cock. My cheeks instantly flushed with warmth as I quickly stood up, trying to maintain my composure. "All done," I said, focusing on keeping my voice steady. "Be careful not to get it wet, and try not to let anything rub against it when you walk."

"Mm," Lucas responded, his voice thick with something he was clearly trying to suppress.

I busied myself with the first aid kit, pretending not to notice the strain in his voice or the tension hanging in the air. As I reorganized the bottles and bandages, I deliberately changed the subject. "How's Jace doing?"

Business talk always helped dissipate these intimate moments.

Lucas provided a detailed explanation, his professional demeanor returning. "After being transferred to the specialized medical facility abroad, my uncle's condition has stabilized. While he's out of immediate danger, he remains unconscious. The medical team analyzed the blood clot in his brain and recommended conservative treatment for now, hoping it might dissolve naturally. The risks of surgical intervention to remove it are too high to attempt without careful consideration."

"So unless the clot is removed or dissolves on its own, Jace won't wake up?" I pressed, concerned.

"That's the current understanding," he confirmed with a slight nod.

"And he's alone there?" My voice carried my worry.

Lucas shifted his weight, the movement causing his bathrobe to rustle softly. "The situation is relatively stable for now, and my presence wouldn't change much. My grandfather is staying with him, though. Being retired, he has the time to remain there for a while."

I nodded slowly. There wasn't much anyone could do except hope for Jace's recovery. The helplessness of the situation weighed heavily on both of us.

After organizing the medical supplies, I grabbed my crutch and made my way to his bathroom to wash my hands, which were sticky from the ointment I'd applied to his wound. As I stepped inside, I froze at the sight of black underwear lying on the counter. I inwardly cursed my choice-there were plenty of other bathrooms in the house, yet I'd chosen this one.

What caught my attention even more was that the garment appeared damp. Before I could process this observation, Lucas appeared behind me, swiftly grabbing the underwear and disposing of it in the nearby bin with practiced efficiency.

I caught his gaze in the mirror, noting his slightly labored breathing and the fresh blush creeping up his neck. The bathroom suddenly felt much smaller than it was.

Under my questioning look, he turned away, his voice rough. "It happens to every grown man. Not just me."

I kept my eyes down and focused on washing my hands, offering no response. He left quickly, the door closing softly behind him.

As I methodically cleaned each finger, my mind wandered to places it shouldn't. The warm water didn't help cool the heat rising in my cheeks as I recalled the intimate moment of tending to his injury, the way his muscles had tensed under my touch, the controlled breaths he'd taken...

After drying my hands, I emerged from the bathroom to find the bedroom empty. Movement from the adjacent dressing room caught my attention-a shadow moving behind the frosted glass doors.

I made my way there unhurriedly, my crutch making soft sounds against the hardwood floor. As I entered, I found Lucas in the process of dressing, wearing only black boxer briefs similar to the ones from earlier. The sight of his broad shoulders and defined back muscles made my breath catch.

He caught sight of me in the full-length mirror, surprise flickering across his features. "I'll be out in a moment," he said, his voice carrying a hint of roughness.

"Can you manage?" I asked, noting how he favored his injured side.

"Yes."

"Without aggravating the wound?"

"I'll be careful..." His Adam's apple bobbed visibly as he swallowed, and I watched as his fingers tightened on the shirt he held. The dressing room, despite its size, felt intimate and close.