32. Emerson #2
“Mmm . . . that feels amazing. If this racing thing doesn’t work out, you could make millions in other ways.” Hen waggles her brows up and down, making me chuckle.
“Hate to break it to you, but this body is not for sale.” I smirk, tickling the bottom of her feet. Laughter fills the small bathroom and my heart soars.
When I go back to massaging, she sighs dreamily. Her gaze wanders over my chest and my spine stiffens. Aware that she’s about to discover something intertwined in all my ink.
“When did you get all of these?” she asks. Wiggling her foot free, she uses it to nudge me forward so she can get a closer look at all my tattoos.
“Here and there over the years. Some have meaning, others I got randomly while traveling from place to place when I race.” I shrug nonchalantly.
Hen’s fingers trace over my skin, leaving goose bumps in their wake. Pausing on the area where there are wildflowers etched into my skin. “For Autumn?” she whispers.
I nod, and she rubs over it reverently once more. After a few moments, her movements focus on the swirl designs on my arm.
“And these?”
“Thought they were cool.” I grin.
She rolls her eyes, but a faint grin peeks through her lips.
Looking back, I notice the water is about to overflow. I lean over quickly and shut it off, testing the water to make sure it isn’t too hot. When I turn back to her, I track her eyes. Her hands tighten around her thighs when she spots it. Her gaze alone makes the small tattoo sear into my skin.
“And that one?” The question slips on her breath.
Swallowing deeply, I nudge her thighs apart, and step between them.
Her trembling hand extends forward and pauses midway.
I wrap my palm around her wrist and help her the rest of the way.
When her palm makes contact with the tattoo, I swear my heart answers to her touch. It beats excitedly against her palm.
Henley traces each point of the Converse star and the rays of sunlight that circle around it. For a moment, I lose my ability to breathe. And I think she does, too.
“Why this one, Em?”
Glossy hazel eyes slowly roll up to meet mine.
Placing my palm over hers, I lower my forehead to hers and speak low.
“Because I thought I had lost you forever. I couldn’t bear the thought of traversing the rest of life without you, so I etched a little piece of you over my heart.
A reminder that no matter how dark my world got, I’d always have a little piece of your light to bring me back. ”
“I love you,” she breathes. “. . . and I always will.”
All at once, the world is right.
“I love you, too,” I whisper against her lips before I seal them against mine.
Wrapping my arms around her, I lift her with ease and carry her over to the tub. When her toes hit the water, she hisses slightly, then slowly melts beneath it.
“Scoot forward, babe.”
“You’re going to join me?” she squeaks, eyes growing wide while she examines the tiny tub.
“There’s no way I’m missing a chance to wash that beautiful body of yours. Now scoot, before I make you.” I growl playfully.
Her lips part, but she does what she’s asked and scoots her hips all the way forward. The water steams around me, and I step into the vanilla-scented suds. When I lower my body completely, the water sloshes over the edge. Henley’s body shakes with silent mirth.
“Come here, Trouble,” I grumble, wrapping my arm around her and sliding her back flush against my chest. Another gallon of water and bubbles slide- over the edge, and her head falls back onto my shoulder as she laughs so hard tears wet her cheeks.
Grabbing the loofah beside me, I lather it up with soap and begin washing every inch of her body.
“You don’t have to do that,” she says softly, placing her hand over mine. “ Really, I can do it myself.”
“He never did this for you?” The question flies out of my mouth.
“No.”
I raise my soapy fingertips up to her chin and angle it toward me. “Let me do this for you.”
Hen nods, her eyes glistening just enough to let me know that means a lot to her. Also reminding me that I have a lot of work to do to help her heal from the trauma that her past relationships have given her. I tenderly caress her body with the loofah as she allows herself to melt into my touch.
“Can I wash your hair?”
The muscles in her back tighten as she chews on her bottom lip then nods silently.
After all the splashing, her hair is mostly wet, but I cup my hands into the warm water and spill it over the top of her head. It cascades gently over her as I add a little shampoo to my hands and begin massaging it into her scalp.
“You just keep adding things to your resume, sir,” she hums.
Lowering my mouth next to hers, I murmur, “The only one who will ever experience what these hands can do is you.”
Her breath hitches, and I smack my lips against her cheek.
I rinse her hair, adding the conditioner and repeating the same process all over again.
As the water flows through her long locks one last time, I can see her eyes getting a little droopy.
When a yawn slips free, I know it’s time to get her out of the tub.
I get out first, my feet squishing against the soggy bathmat underneath.
I’ll have to take care of that later. Pulling the plug, Hen watches the water slowly drain as I lift her out of the water and place her on a dry patch of the bathroom floor.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy drying off every part of her smooth skin.
It gives me time to commit the expanse of her body to memory.
Once she’s dry, I slip out of the bathroom and grab my shirt. “Arms up.”
A blush touches her cheeks as I slide my large shirt over her body.
Hen’s tall but I still tower over her by a few inches.
The edge of the hem hits just beneath her ass, and I can feel heat rising in me once more.
I bite the inside of my cheek to restrain myself from throwing her onto the counter and losing myself in her all over again.
I’ll just have to settle for carrying her in my arms. I carry her out of the bathroom and straight to the bed.
Folding back the covers, I slip her underneath and tuck her back in.
“Em, we have work today.” She yawns. “We only have so many days left. There’s still so much left to do.”
Pressing a kiss against her forehead, I shake my head. “Not today. Today, you’re going to rest. When you wake up, you can come find me.”
Tiredness is setting in, and I revel in the moment she snuggles her head deeper into the pillows.
“Fine,” she sighs.
I watch her eyes flutter shut as I put my clothes back on. Before I leave, I turn back toward her. “Hey, Hen?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I take you to dinner tonight?”
“Like a ‘date-date?’” she asks.
With a smile, I laugh back, “Yeah, like that.”
She hums sweetly. “Of course.”
As I gently close the door, I pause and run my hand over Henley’s tattoo, like I have thousands of times over the years. The cloud above me passes, and the sun’s rays trickle over me.
If that isn’t a sign that this is right, I don’t know what is.