Chapter 25
25
brYCE
Someone filled my eyes and mouth with sand.
Or buried me alive in it, more like.
I’m unsure how I wound up in the bathroom again or how I didn’t notice myself puking all over my shirt. From the smell of myself, it’s no wonder Daisy’s asking if I want to have a bath.
“I’ll shower,” I manage to say, surprised I can get my crusted lips to form words.
“You can barely stay awake sitting on the floor. I won’t stay in here if you don’t want me to, but at least let me help you run a bath and actually sit in it.”
Taking these clothes off is all I want. I smell putrid, and the longer she sees me like this, the easier it’s going to be to scare her off. Somehow, I’ve managed not to do it already, and if this is what takes me down, I’ll never recover from it.
“I’ll be naked,” I blurt out.
Humour lines her eyes as she reaches around me to flush the toilet and releases her hold on my hair. I want to ask her to wrap it in her hands again. Her touch soothes me. Doesn’t matter where.
“I can cover my eyes,” she offers.
Another wave of nausea hits, and I grip my stomach in an attempt to fight it. There’s nothing in my stomach but water, but even that hasn’t been lasting long before it’s flying back up.
Daisy brushes a hand over my shoulder, and then the tub behind me begins to fill. The sound of the water running makes my head pound, the migraine of all migraines lingering.
“You don’t have to do this, Daisy.”
“Do what?”
I choke on a laugh. “All of this. Take care of me like I’m a child.”
She moves around the tub, the sound of a hand cutting into the steady stream of water coming from behind me.
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be,” she murmurs.
“That was out of obligation,” I state, trying and failing to sound unbothered. “My parents wouldn’t have cared if my girlfriend had left once dinner was ruined. It wouldn’t have changed our plan.”
A pause, and then she’s crouching beside me and taking my hand from where I have it resting on my knee, pulling it into her lap.
I have to strain to see her properly, but she’s so beautiful that it’s worth it. Somehow, she doesn’t look tired, just focused, worried. The healthy flush of colour in her cheeks and lips is a welcome sight.
“There’s no obligation, Frosty. Just concern. Now, let me help you up so you can strip and get into the bath.”
My chest tightens, and I speak without thinking about the consequences.
“I need your help.”
She blows out a soft, panted breath. “With getting in?”
I dip my chin. “With everything.”
Her eyes dart to the side, and I worry I’ve blown it before she worries her lip and slowly brings them back. My hand is so fucking sweaty, but I have the flu to blame it on.
She doesn’t. And I’m not that out of it not to realize how slick her palm is against mine .
“Let’s worry about getting you up first.”
I grip the edge of the toilet and hoist myself up as she tugs on my hand. My balance gives, and my vision blackens with fuzz that takes a few seconds to clear. She’s there to stabilize me before I tip over.
“Sorry,” I grunt, sidestepping her to lean against the sink. The sight of myself in the mirror above it nearly has me crumpling to the ground. “Fuck.”
I look like shit. Worse than shit. Like a corpse that’s been dug out of the ground a few days after a burial.
My hair is a giant tangle, and the mess of puke on my shirt is enough to have me fighting a wretch. The blue bags beneath my eyes are deep and dark, bringing attention to the red tinge around my pupils. Daisy ignores both my apology and curse, seeming unbothered by my appearance.
That makes one of us.
She squats and starts digging through the cabinet beneath the sink before pulling out a new toothbrush and toothpaste.
“If you strip, I’ll get this ready, and then you can brush your teeth before getting in the tub. I can even get it ready for you in the hallway,” she offers, tone so soft it’s almost a whisper.
“I’ll brush them first.”
Don’t leave the room.
She’s quick to open the packaging on the toothbrush and smothers it in minty paste. I take it from her and scrub my mouth until I’m sure my gums are bleeding, while she stops the tub from filling any higher.
“You’re sure you don’t want me to leave and come back when you’re in the tub? I’ve put bubbles in,” she says once the toothbrush has been placed on the edge of the sink and the scent of bubble bath fills the room.
Shaking my head once, I lower my hand to the hem of my shirt and inhale a long, steady breath. I curl my fingers in the fabric and start sliding it up my abdomen.
Daisy doesn’t move, although her gasp is hardly loud enough for me to catch it. I’ve never cared much about the opinions of others when it comes to my body. I’ve stripped for and flashed tit at more people in a tattoo studio than society would consider normal, but Daisy’s different.
Her opinion of me is the only one that matters.
In all of the dreams I’ve had where she’s played the leading role, my first time naked never occurred in a situation like this. One where sex and desire aren’t at the forefront of our actions.
Goosebumps pop up on every inch of skin, covering me head to toe. I swallow and tug the shirt over my chest, more aware of my surroundings than I’ve ever been.
The spike in my temperature isn’t from the flu. It comes from low in my belly and spreads like wildfire between my legs and up into my chest.
She doesn’t back away. Doesn’t move a muscle until I reach up to pull my shirt over my head and my muscles start to shake. As she reaches forward to help me, her forearm brushes the swells of my breasts, and I gulp down the scent of her, subconsciously arching my back to get closer.
My shirt goes over my head, and my hair rains down over my neck and chest, creating a barrier between Daisy’s wandering eyes and my bare tits.
Her pupils expand, and my nipples tighten to the point of pain. The metal through each one is cold and heavy, weighing them down and intensifying the pulse in my pussy.
A swallow fills the space around us, and I’m not sure if it’s mine or hers.
“Can you do your skirt?” she asks on a loose breath.
“No.”
Her nod is absent. Small, thin fingers stroke the rough jean material, then pop the button and pull down the zipper.
I squeeze the sink so tight it could crumble and hold my breath, watching as she lowers herself to her haunches. Her pace is a punishment. But I take it.
“Are you sure you want me here doing this, Bryce? ”
My hand drops to her head, and I smooth the top of her hair before cupping the back, my eyes blazing in a way I’ve never experienced before. I ache so deep, like I’ll never be able to find relief.
Daisy leans further into my hold, and I moan without having a chance in hell of holding it in.
Her eyelids droop, and she dips her fingers beneath the waistband of my skirt before she slowly starts inching it down my hips. My panties linger behind, but before I can let my tongue run free and tell her to take them off as well, she rectifies her hold and grips them tight.
They come down with my skirt, and the air around us disappears. Every breath is a struggle. The burn is everlasting.
I keep her trapped beneath the weight of that burn, and she doesn’t drift. My nausea lingers, buried beneath the desire and arousal that’s taken over every inch of my system. For now, I’ll do my fucking best to keep it at bay. Just for another few minutes.
It feels like hours, but finally, the skirt falls.
Daisy keeps her eyes on mine, not straying even as I stand naked in front of her. I don’t risk looking down to see how wet I’ve left my panties, but I want her to. The longer we stand here, a barrier shattered between us, the harder it is not to tell her the truth about my feelings.
“Can you make it to the bathtub?” Her voice is so fucking breathy, the words almost whimpered.
“Yeah, Sunshine, I’m good,” I rasp, giving confirmation for far more than just her question.
Blinking once, then twice, she releases my gaze and lets hers drip down my body. From my heaving breasts and the metal hoops in my nipples that are visible through the dirty strands of my hair, the straining muscles in my torso, to the smooth, wet area between my legs.
A voice in my head tries to scream at me that this isn’t right and that things are going to be different in the coming days. I drown it out with the heavy sounds of her breathing.
I’m not prepared for her to cup my calf in a hot hand. I chomp down on my tongue and narrow my eyes, unsure if she’s playing with me or just that interested in touching.
The ink on my body is a lot to take in, and usually, I like that.
Not now. It’s stealing her attention and inviting her to dig into the reasons behind each design when that’s the last thing I want us to focus on.
I angle my body toward the bath and release her head when my stomach lurches, a sore discomfort returning. If I don’t pull myself together quickly, I’m going to risk ruining the moment with vomit.
Daisy watches me stumble to the tub and ungracefully stabilize myself on its edge, my ass perched in the air. It’s one of the only areas on my body that’s nothing but boring, pale skin.
“Let me help,” she rushes out, snapping into action.
In a blink, she’s crouching beneath my arm and holding me up. I lift a leg over the edge and step into the hot, bubbly water. It only reaches my knee, but I assume she doesn’t want me to fall asleep and drown with it too high.
“Easy, easy. I don’t want you to slip and hurt yourself.”
I’d do it on purpose if it meant she’d heal me afterward. Fuck, that sounds dark. Maybe just a knock of my knee on the porcelain or something.
By the time I’m sinking completely into the water, I’m battling exhaustion again. All sexual thoughts have floated back to where they came from, too far to call upon them without risking passing out.
“Is the temperature okay?”
I make a noise of agreement in my throat and rest my head against the pillow slung over the back of the tub. The water slooshes up over my tits and against my collarbones, and I let my arms hang loose beneath it.
When I tilt my head to look at Daisy, I find her sitting on her knees beside the tub with her arm draped over it, fingers playing in the bubbles.
“My parents,” I mutter.
She twists her mouth in distaste. “What about them?”
“How did you find all the shit you gave me?”
“I found it.”
“You searched through the house on your own?”
“Would you have a problem if I had?”
I smirk sleepily. “No. Not at all.”
“I found your mom in the kitchen. She told me where to find most of the supplies, and your father gave me the bucket,” she reveals, almost cautiously, like she still doesn’t believe that I don’t give a shit what she did here.
She could have set the house on fire, and I’d have probably thanked her for taking away a place full of so many upsetting memories from me.
I bring my knee up and rest it against the wall of the tub she’s perched over. “How was that?”
“As great as you’d expect. I kind of chastised her.”
“Chastised how?”
She takes the fingers running through the clouds of bubbles and swirls them over my exposed knee, igniting another round of raised skin. “I did what we were here to do.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Anyway, she deserved a piece of my mind. Dinner was uncalled for.”
“Don’t remind me.”
She giggles, propping her chin on the tub. “Sorry.”
Looking up at the ceiling, I say, “I made you your playlist.”
“You did?” The excitement in her voice speeds my pulse.
“Yeah. It’s not just rock. I kept getting sidetracked.”
“I can’t wait to hear it. I’ve started yours, but I’m not quite done yet.”
I jostle my shoulder. “No rush. ”
There’s not a chance I’m telling her that I stayed up until 4:00 a.m. finishing it the same night she said she’d like one.
“Do you want to get your hair wet? I don’t have shampoo, but we can at least scrub it a bit.”
Of course, my mother has the bathroom stocked with bubble bath but not shampoo.
“I’ll fall asleep.”
“Let me worry about that,” she argues lightly.
I give in embarrassingly easily and let her guide me in the water until my hair sinks below the surface. She dips her hands into it and starts scrubbing my scalp, drawing small moans and sighs from me that I’m too exhausted to be ashamed about.
Too soon, she helps me sit up and squeezes the excess water from my hair. I feel the change in the air the moment her eyes find my bare chest as it hovers over the water, bubbles almost completely gone.
My nipples are hard from both the sudden chill and her attention, and slowly, I bring my eyes to hers, not hiding from the attention.
Her pink tongue darts out and slides across her lips, nose burning red. “Do you love Cherry Peak that much?”
“What do you mean?”
“The tattoo. The bull skull and the word ‘home.’ Is Cherry Peak an important part of your life?”
She’s asking about my tattoo when my tits are on display? For fuck’s sake, this woman is going to drive me mad.
With a huffed laugh, I tip my head down and stare at the tattoo. I designed it myself, but an old friend put ink to skin.
“Cherry Peak is where all of the important people to me are. It’s not so much about the place but those in it. The bull was the only physical thing that reminded me of here that I haven’t already put on my body.” I lift my arm and rest it beside hers on the edge of the tub. “My first idea was the cherry tree.”
She thumbs the outline of the tree on my forearm and leans in close, breath warming my skin. “It’s beautiful. ”
“It could use a touch-up or two.”
“Either way, it’s gorgeous. You’re incredibly talented.”
I hide my reaction to her compliment by closing my eyes. “It’s a hobby.”
“Just take the compliment, Frosty. I promise not to let anyone else know that you did,” she teases.
“Thank you,” I say, exaggerating the words.
Silence falls, and I keep my eyes shut, letting it settle over me. With the knowledge that Daisy’s beside me and I’m taken care of, I let the promise of sleep sweep me away.