Chapter 306: A Slippery Slope to Love

Fraser obediently opened his mouth, his sharp Adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow, but his deep, drowning gaze never left her face.

Summer couldn’t stand it anymore and glared at him. “Can’t you just eat properly?”

Fraser’s lips curled into a smirk. “Aren’t I cooperating nicely?”

“Why do you keep staring at me?”

Feeding him was making her heart race like a drumbeat in a fast-paced song. If he kept looking at her like this, Summer felt she could melt right into his eyes.

Fraser’s voice was low. “Because, my wife, you’re beautiful.”

Men really knew how to sweet-talk, Summer wouldn’t admit that it made her heart bloom with joy. She pursed her lips, trying to hide her smile, and commanded, “Close your eyes, or I won’t feed you.”

“Heh.” Fraser laughed, his whole chest vibrating with it, his tone indulgent. “You really are bossy!” Eventually, Summer managed to finish feeding him the meal.

Fraser’s phone rang, and he listened to the call while handling some business on his tablet. Summer ate her own meal beside him, keeping an eye on when his IV bags were about to run out; both were nearly empty.

Summer went to the door to call the doctor. Peter entered the room and professionally removed the needle from Fraser’s hand. Perhaps because Summer was there, Peter could finally act like a proper doctor, instructing his patient.

“Mr. Graham, you need to have IV therapy on schedule for a week. Watch your diet during this period—no spicy foods or seafood, and avoid strenuous activities and getting wet to prevent reinfection. I’ve also prepared some medications, placed on the table, to be taken three times a day with meals.”

Summer took careful note. After the doctor left, Summer watched him take all his medications.

Fraser casually got up from the bed, standing tall in front of Summer, and whispered in her ear, “So considerate, why not continue and help me bathe?”

At that, Summer’s ears turned red, her voice trembling. “You should… you should… yourself.”

Fraser raised his eyebrows, justifying, “I can’t bathe myself.”

Seeing Summer glance at his shoulder…

Fraser’s lips curved up slightly, his voice a tad plaintive. “The doctor said I shouldn’t get it wet or it could get infected, and then this arm would be useless. But I’m a man; I should be independent and not trouble others. Guess I’m just a man no one cares about.”

Summer couldn’t stand to listen anymore.

In the bathroom, Summer stood in front of Fraser, her height only reaching his shoulders, making her seem petite. She tiptoed, carefully avoiding his wound, and pulled his black shirt over his head. When she looked up, she crashed into Fraser’s narrow, mischievous eyes. Summer could clearly see his dark lashes, jet black like ink. And in the depths of his pupils, she could see her own reflection.

Summer’s heart skipped a beat, her ears burning. She quickly removed his shirt and stepped back, the man’s exposed muscular chest suddenly right in front of her. His shoulder was wrapped in white bandages, his defined chest and flat abdomen underlined by black trousers, presenting a vulnerable yet abstinent beauty that was striking.

Summer’s breathing quickened involuntarily, and she took a step back. Even though they had been intimate several times, even had a child, why was she still as shy as if she had never seen him before? Perhaps it had been too long since they’d been close…

“Okay.”

Fraser watched her flustered state with amusement, pinching her earlobe. Yep, it was definitely hot.

Fraser’s smile grew wider, his voice enticing, “There’s still the pants.”

Summer was flabbergasted. “Pants? Your arm is injured, not your leg!”

Fraser feigned a headache. “But taking off pants requires hands.”

“You still have one good hand to do it yourself.”

“Fine, I know I’m a hassle. Since my wife doesn’t care about me… I’ll do it myself. If it hurts the wound… well, nothing can be done.”

Summer bit her lip. “I’ll do it, I’ll help you! Okay?”

Saying so, Summer reached out, her fingers slowly touching the waistband of his pants. She closed her eyes. And yanked them down—a burst of his raw, masculine scent hit her. Summer’s throat was dry, her cheeks flushed like the dawn. Her hands shook, and she quickly turned around, pretending to be composed.

“You handle the rest of your pants yourself.”