Chapter 56: Gentle Woman

Her fingertips, slightly cold despite her milky-white rubber gloves, gently pressed against his leg. The chill spread through his skin and bloodstream; however, areas marked by wounds or injuries felt warmer. When Cheyenne's hand covered these areas, Iker felt unexpectedly comfortable, wishing she could remain there longer. This unexpected feeling was devoid of sexual desire—a surprise even to himself.

He’d previously allowed others to massage his legs, but their touch always brought embarrassment. With Cheyenne, however, it felt different. When she became serious, she transformed. Her face was dignified and serious; her almond eyes fixed on his legs.

Iker pulled the hem of his robe tighter, concealing all but his hairy black calves. Cheyenne saw his legs for the first time, and a look of disgust flickered across her face. "Master Iker," she said, "you have so much leg hair, even though your face is smooth and handsome." She added, as an afterthought, "Come to think of it, Kelvin's leg hair isn't exactly sparse either."

Layne coughed, embarrassed. "Ahem Cheyenne, focus on treating Master Iker," he stammered, his face flushed. Cheyenne, however, continued her muttered aside: "This is just a fact. And I heard that people with lots of body hair have strong sexual desires!"

Both men heard her clearly. Layne choked on his water, coughing violently before excusing himself. "I I'll go drink some water first," he said, heading for the door. "Cheyenne! I'll deal with you later."

Iker, deeply embarrassed, stared at Cheyenne, his handsome face masking a hint of shyness in his eyes.

"Miss Lawrence seems very experienced!" he remarked sarcastically.

Cheyenne merely lifted her head, gave him a disdainful glance, and chuckled softly. "Not many," she replied, "I can count them on one hand."

"You!" he exclaimed, his lips pressed into a thin line. He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped.

"Alright, what's so surprising? Could it be that Master Iker is still a virgin?" she asked, leaning forward, her hands on his wheelchair. Her breath, fragrant as orchids, brushed his earlobes, causing a tingling sensation. Her clear, smiling eyes held a mischievous glint. "Miss Lawrence, please behave yourself!" he said.

"You're boring," she muttered, withdrawing her gaze. She squatted again, gently holding his calf. She observed the raised veins, remarking, "Very ugly," and noted the scabbed-over wounds on his knees. Her fingers trailed upwards, pausing at his knees, applying slight pressure. "Does it hurt?"

Iker squinted, gritting his teeth. "It doesn't hurt," he said, trying to endure the pain.

Cheyenne frowned. "Can't he feel any pain at all? It seems the bone tissue has been necrotic for many days." Her hand moved lower, pressing harder. "What about this?"

He shook his head, growing impatient. "Can you do it or not? I've told you I don't feel any pain!" he almost shouted.

Iker had been disabled for three years. Initially, he'd sought treatment, but the results were always the same—no feeling in his legs. Eventually, he refused further examinations. Despite his anger, Cheyenne remained calm, even smiling gently. "Master Iker," she said softly, her lips rosy, "I was going easy on you. Whether I can do it or not, you should try it first!"

Cheyenne pressed her thumb firmly onto the wound.

"Ah!" Iker groaned, a deep, magnetic sound in the quiet room. The pain was brief, but vivid. He looked surprised. "My my leg!"

"Do you feel the pain?" she asked, beads of sweat on her forehead, a blush rising on her cheeks.

"Don't you think you overreacted? You barely used any force," he said sarcastically.

"Are you women the type who can't even open a mineral water bottle cap when you're gentle, but when you're angry, you can crack open a person's skull?" he sneered.

Cheyenne chuckled. "Well, I'm one of those who can't open a mineral water bottle," she admitted, rubbing her sore hands. "If your leg can still feel pain, it means the bone tissue hasn't completely necrotized. You just haven't found a good doctor for proper treatment," she explained.

Iker scoffed. His father had arranged consultations with renowned doctors worldwide. But she was young, and sometimes spoke without thinking.

"Treatment is possible, but challenging," she continued, standing up. Dizzy from squatting, she stumbled forward, falling into darkness.

"Be careful!" Iker warned.

Cheyenne fell into his lap. He couldn't avoid it. He held her, surprised by the soft feeling of her body against his. His hands instinctively rested on her waist, feeling the smoothness and warmth of her skin. He discreetly pinched it. Were all women's waists this slender?

Cheyenne's face flushed crimson at his proximity. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to," she whispered.

He felt a pang of regret as she left, but feigned indifference. "It's okay. Just be more careful next time," he said.

"What are you guys doing?" A furious voice boomed from the doorway. Cheyenne stiffened, turning to face the newcomer.