4. Warmth in my tummy.

Lost in my thoughts, I was about to take a step forward when he unexpectedly halted me with a gentle yet firm request, "Stella, I can manage from here. Just stand outside, please." His words, though polite, carried a subtle undercurrent that hinted at a desire for privacy.

Blushing, I instinctively took a step back, the memory of our brief and somewhat awkward moment lingering in my mind. The unexpected proximity and the vulnerability of the situation left me feeling both flustered and intrigued, uncertain about how this new chapter of caretaking would unfold.

As Mr. Lockwood took a shower, I found myself standing on the other side of his shower, the cascade of thoughts from our earlier encounter running through my mind like a river of uncertainties.

The sound of running water heightened the sense of intimacy in the air, and I couldn't help but feel a subtle tension building within the confined space.

I can't believe I was about to see his dick on the first day, although thinking about it wasn't so bad after all.

The sound of the shower coming to a stop echoed through the hallway minutes later, and Mr. Lockwood's voice called out, "Stella, could you please bring me a robe?"

Hurrying inside, I was met with the unexpected sight of Mr. Lockwood standing there, completely naked and drenched in water. His hair was tousled, droplets of water glistening on his skin.

Momentarily captivated, my gaze lingered on his dripping chest, but just as my eyes were about to venture lower, he interrupted, "Stella, the robe, please."

Blushing, I snapped out of my momentary trance, hastily fetching the robe and handing it to him. The unexpected exposure left me flustered, a mix of embarrassment and a lingering awareness of the undeniable allure of the situation.

Assisting Mr. Lockwood back to his bed, he gestured towards the closet. "Could you pick out something casual for me to wear?"

Nodding, I went into the closet, choosing an ensemble that blended comfort and style. When I presented the selected attire, Mr. Lockwood took a moment to inspect it before offering a subtle smile.

"I think this would go well on you." I suggested.

"You have quite the taste, Stella. Thank you." The unexpected compliment added a touch of warmth to the atmosphere, momentarily dispelling the earlier awkwardness.

"Could you-" I stopped him before he could finish.

"Of course." As I helped Mr. Lockwood put on his clothes, the proximity between us seemed to intensify. My hands brushed against his skin, and a peculiar sensation enveloped me, making my senses hazy.

The close contact, the touch between his legs as I assisted him, sparked an unexpected awareness that lingered in my tummy.

Trying to maintain composure, I focused on the task at hand, but still a subtle warmth spreading through me as the air in the room seemed charged with a newfound tension between us.

It was unclear whether this tension was a figment of my imagination or a tangible undercurrent that had emerged from our recent encounter.

As I tried to divert my eyes from crossing his, there was an undeniable awareness lingering in the room.

The simple act of helping him dress had become a strangely intimate encounter, leaving me momentarily captivated by the magnetic pull of the situation.

Putting on Mr. Lockwood underwear, underneath his robe making me unable to see a thing.....sadly, then I placed on a comfortable joggers. Taking the time my hand stretched towards his wet hair, desperate to want to run my hands in it.

"What are you doing?" Mr. Lockwood questioned, looking up at me.

"Y-your hair, i-its wet, I simply wanted to dry it." I murmured as he watched me intently.

"Very well." He said, as I used his towel to dry his hair.

As I gently dried Mr. Lockwood's hair, the sensation was surprisingly soothing. The strands were soft beneath my fingertips, and the rhythmic motion of the towel felt like a gentle caress.

"Thank you, Stella," Mr. Lockwood said, a hint of appreciation in his voice. "By the time you're finished, I'll be sure to have gotten my groove back."

I smiled, nodding at his comment. However, beneath the surface, I couldn't help but sense a dual meaning in his words.

It was as if he was alluding to more than just the physical recovery from his recent challenges, and a subtle curiosity lingered in the air as I continued with the care routine.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Lockwood?" I inquired, eager to ensure I had covered all his needs.

He smiled appreciatively. "That's all for the moment, Stella. You can take a break until I call on you."

Curious about how he would reach out to me, I asked, "How will you reach out to me?"

"There's a small intercom on your bedside table," he explained. "You can always reach out to me, and I'll do the same. It's our direct line of communication."

Nodding in acknowledgment, I exited Mr. Lockwood's room, a breath escaping my lips that I hadn't realized I was holding.

The quiet hallway offered a moment of reprieve, and I couldn't shake the lingering feeling of what had just happened in those intimate moments of care.

What have I gotten myself into.