Chapter 12 #2
My ass brushed across his bathing suit trunks, and I was far too aware of how skimpy my bikini was. He stilled for a second, then used his fingers to massage my scalp.
“There’s a lot of blood. Didn’t the hospital give you a shower?”
“Don’t think the ICU is exactly staffed for extra hands for that kind of thing.” A sigh streamed out of me as he dialed up the heat.
“I’ll try not to hurt you. Just hang on with the bar there.”
“Okay.”
I bit back a moan as he soaked my hair then turned off the water. He shifted behind me, then tipped me against his thighs. “Head back.”
His voice was little more than a rumble behind me in the sudden quiet. The sounds of water around us and the gentle rocking of the boat on the waves mixed with his magical fingers had me near boneless.
It had been a long time since anyone other than me had done this.
Perfunctory sex with my ex definitely hadn’t included this kind of intimacy. I’m not sure Marcus had ever even showered with me. Even in the hot and heavy days at the start of our relationship.
Then again, the hot and heavy had been more mild and halfhearted, to be honest. I should have known then that we weren’t anything sustainable. I’d convinced myself that mediocre sex wasn’t a deal breaker.
Stupid.
“You okay?”
“Mm-hmm.”
He turned the water back on and the suds slipped down my back and around my hips. There was little more than our breaths and the beating of water along the floor, but it didn’t stop the buzz under my skin. And dear God, did I hope the bikini didn’t show how hard my nipples were.
His large hand spread across my bare belly to settle me against him more firmly so he could use both hands. The urge to groan was trapped in my chest like a baby bird. His fingers were gentle, but firm as he worked the suds out until my hair squeaked.
“I think I was a little heavy handed on the soap.” He handed me the conditioner. “How about you show me on this one.”
“I can do it.”
“No, just hold on. I don’t need you to fall with all the soapy lather around us.”
I sighed, but flipped the top on the conditioner and poured a good amount into his palm. “Just stay away from the scalp and we’re good. Or I’ll be an oil slick by tomorrow.”
He huffed out a laugh, and I felt his breath on my neck.
I closed my eyes and shifted, and the spear of pain canceled out any lusty thoughts.
“Hey, easy.” His arm slid around me to grip my hip. “You good?”
“Yeah, just moved wrong.”
“Don’t hold it in. Breathe through it, instead.”
I took a few long breaths and the pain subsided by the time he was sudsing my shoulders. The familiar scent of tangerine and musk of my bodywash filled the small space.
I took the sudser cloth from him. “You can uh, just do the water.”
“You got it.”
I quickly washed everywhere I could with the bikini on.
I was slick and the soap was all around our feet.
The industrial wrap on my thigh reminded me of the bandage post tattoo.
The doctor told me I could only wear it the first day and then to try to give it as much oxygen as possible so I wouldn’t get an infection.
But at least for this shower I could just let the water all over me.
I straightened on my good leg and brushed along the front of his trunks. He tried to back up, but it was too late. There was no denying the close quarters was affecting him. I couldn’t blame him. Any woman rubbing up all over him in little more than a closet was asking a lot from him.
Then I lost my footing, and he grabbed me close. Back to chest, thigh to thigh. His big hand brushed my breast, but firmed along my hip. “Easy.”
“Sorry.”
“All good. We’ll get the hang of it.”
God, I hoped I could start showering alone soon. This was going to kill me each time.
“Can you stand up straight. I’ll rinse you all off.”
“Yes.”
I tipped my had back and enjoyed the warm water that slowly went cool. Finally, he shut off the water. Then a fluffy towel wrapped around me. He bundled me up and lifted me up.
I gripped his shoulders and looked up at him.
His face was stony and blank.
Here, I was half fantasizing, and he was probably annoyed that I was a klutz. So dumb.
He swung me through the door and out to the skinny hallway. “Why don’t you rest for a bit. I’ll cook something for us.” He set me down on the bed and left me without another word.
Yep, I definitely annoyed him.
I flopped back on the large mattress. It took up most of the room and smelled like him. Warm dark liquor and the ocean. The bed was framed with shelves. Books in dozens of genres were stuffed on the shelves. Some barely had a break in the spine, others looked like they’d been read dozens of times.
I rolled onto my side, drawing the big towel around me. The typical Lord of the Rings and Terry Pratchett books were lined up, but there were a surprising number of classics in there as well as some pulpy fiction books that made me smile.
The rocking of the boat must have dragged me under because the next time I woke it was to the scent of bacon. I shivered since my towel was still damp and my hair was a mess.
I hobbled over to the suitcase and drew a sundress I’d never seen over my bikini. It was easier than trying to get into shorts.
My pain meds had long since faded and there was nothing but stars above me through the skylight. It was so dark that the porthole showed a glint of moonlight on the water.
I opened the door to find Locke there with a tray.
He was still shirtless, but his hair looked wet. Maybe he’d taken a solo shower while I’d been down. “What time is it?”
“Past eight. Figured you were hungry and needed meds.”
“You didn’t have to bring it down to me.”
“Probably easier on your leg.”
“Right.”
I backed away from the door and in the skinny space between the bed and the wall.
“Did you sleep okay?”
“Didn’t even remember doing it. The water is better than any sound machine I’ve ever had.”
He huffed out a low laugh. “Why I love it.” He set the tray on the bed. “Hope you’re not a vegetarian.” He glanced down at the BLT. “I didn’t even think to ask.”
“Smells amazing. Definitely not a vegetarian. No worries there.” I tugged at the dress. “Thanks for the dress. Easier than fighting with shorts.”
“What I figured. I picked up a few with some supplies. Sorry if I got the size wrong.”
“Nah, all good. I like them loose like this.”
He glanced at my shoulder where the dress had fallen down. I quickly fixed it before sitting down. “Did you eat?”
“Yeah. I’ll leave you to it.”
“You don’t need to go.”
“I’ll be back for your tray.”
I sagged against the headboard as he escaped. “That went great.”
I shook my head and picked up one of the triangles and crunched through the fresh toasted bread and veggies. He’d added some sort of kick to the mayo and my tongue zinged with pleasure. A can of soda sat on the tray along with a bowl of grapes and handful of chips with a pickle spear.
Better than any lunch or dinner my mother generally made me.
I grazed my way through the food, knocked back my meds, and took one of the graphic novels off one of the shelves. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best idea. The dark and gritty story of The Crow followed me into dreams.
And it didn’t let me go.