“Shh.” I turn on the water. A soft spray starts from the handheld showerhead where it hangs. “Lean on me. I need my hand for a sec.”
She does as she’s told while retreating into her own mind.
Unacceptable.
My jaw clenches before I grind out, “You had a question for me.”
While I wait for her to talk, I test the water temperature with my hand. Lukewarm, just like I wanted it.
“Speak, Skylar.”
“How am I supposed to be okay with this?” Her voice cracks. “What isthis, anyway?”
“Me, cleaning you. What’s wrong with that?”
“What’s wrong is I woke up to you strangling me,” she repeats.
I growl, then do more of thistalkingthing. “I would’ve drawn you a bath.”
“Then?”
Her fingers graze my thighs again. Not pushing me off, simply brushing. Testing.
Heat floods my chest. Her touch, my brain latches onto it and screams for more.
Patience.
“Sterilizing the bath was a waste of time.” I twist the showerhead free, spraying water on the crown of her head, watching it rolls down her face. She squeezes her eyes shut just in time. “I was rushing because your wound is open. You need to be bandaged.”
Blonde strands plaster to her cheeks, carrying the scent of my shampoo.
When she opens her mouth to speak, she swallows a mouthful of water, and fuck, it’s beautiful.
“That’s why I’m keeping you on your feet. So you don’t rot.” I tip her head back, and she opens her eyes, looking at me despite the water running into her eyes. “So you don’t die.”
“So that I won’t die? I almost did, Knox. Your huge hand was wrapped around my throat. You could’ve killed me.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
I’m not hurt by her accusations. That’s why we’re talking, after all.
“You… You…”
“I’m being gentle. I’m taking care of you.”
When I aim the showerhead at her breasts, she sucks in air, her chest rising. Her nipples harden. The faintest touch, and she’s starving for sex. For me.
My cock jerks against her back, my whole body coming alive at her reaction.
“You’re being gentle now. And later?” Her question breaks my focus. “Who knows with you? One minute, you want me, and the other, you carve into me. You take care of me, make me feel things, and for what? So you can kill me? Likethem?”
Like them.
That particular accusation is the worst. A gut punch. A knife to my jugular.
She doesn’t mean it. Remember where she’s coming from.
Deep breath.
