“I don’t need a chaperone.” I grumble but his window is up, and the door closed so I know he didn’t hear me. Trudging back to my car, I climb in and restart the engine, pulling around him to get on my way. He is immediately behind me, following me all the way to Sloane’s where I park in the driveway, and he parks behind me. He’s out of his car before I have a chance to even open my door and waits on the porch for me.
He always dresses the same, black pants, a black shirt that clings to every curve of his muscles and a silver watch with rings on his fingers, today is no different.
“What are you doing?” I ask him, keys in hand to unlock the door.
No surprise, he doesn’t answer me.
His lack of communication is almost enough to remedy this silly crush I have on him.Almost.
When I get the door open, he’s right behind me, following me into the empty house. I’ve no idea where Sloane is, probably at the coffee shop that opens late down the street or at the library.
“Home, safe and sound,” I turn to him, stopping himfrom entering the house any further. “You can leave.”
“Where’s the bathroom?” He responds.
“Oh,” I point to the stairs, “Up there and to the left. Help yourself but I need to find painkillers.”
Suddenly his fingers are wrapping around my wrist, gentle enough it doesn’t hurt but firm enough there is no escaping him and then he is tugging me toward the stairs, forcing me to follow.
“Killian!” I yell, confused as fuck as I try to keep up with his quick pace. Once we are in the bathroom, he closes and locks the door, only releasing me once it’s done and turns to the shower. “What the hell are you doing!?”
I’ve asked a lot of questions since I found him on the street outside the studio, but I haven’t had many answers. I mean, I’ve grown used to his silence, but this is just infuriating.
He seems to be assessing, eyes looking at everything and nothing at all, “Wait here.” He tells me before slipping out of the room.
If I wasn’t so curious I’d be chasing after him, but I want to know what the fuck is going on.
When he returns, he is holding a stack of pillows he got from the couch downstairs and a bundle of towels. I watch silently as he arranges the pillows against the side of the tub and then creates a cushion with the towels along the rim and once he’s done, he turns to me, points to the makeshift seat on the bathroom floor and demands, “Sit.”
Chapter Five
She eyes me warily as she moves to the cushions I stacked on the floor, her hesitancy making her slow, but she goes and lowers herself, putting her back to the tub. She’s the perfect height to be able to lay back over the towels, which is exactly what I wanted.
I shouldn’t be doing this.
I really shouldn’t but someone else caused her pain today and everything in me is screaming to fix it, even if it is as simple as a headache caused by a too tight bun.
It’s the same as Ishouldn’thave followed her this morning or waited all damn day for a glimpse of her. Like Ishouldn’thave followed her home.
There’s a lot of things Ishouldn’tdo, what’s one more thing to the list. Her eyes follow me as I move to unhook the shower head and switch on the water, my hand under the spray as it slowly begins to warm to the right temperature.
“Killian,” My name is but a breath from her lips, but the sound resonates through me like the bullet from a gun. I ignore her, like I have done for months and move the water until it starts to wet her long, silky blonde hair. I focus on the task, running my fingers through the strands of gold, watching as her hair slides over my hand. It’s the only touch I have allowed myself and I fear it is a mistake. But still, I don’t stop, wetting her hair until it is dripping, then I place the shower head down and reach for her shampoo, squirting a good amount into the palm of my hand before I begin to lather it into her hair, using the tips of my fingers to massage her scalp.
Immediately I see the tension around her eyes soften, her lips parting on a sigh. The harder I rub, the more she relaxes until her lashes flutter closed and a soft moan slips from her lips.
Fuck.
I work the shampoo through the lengths of her hair and after a few minutes, I rinse off my hands and then begin to wash away the suds, applying enough pressure to her scalp to keep her in that languid, tranquil state. She is lax, her head rolling side to side with the pressure of my hands and she appears so relaxed, I wonder if she’s fallen asleep.
Moving to the bottle of conditioner, I empty someinto my hand and start working on her hair again, running my fingers from the root to the very ends and she lays there silently, eyes remaining closed.
“Wait!” She gasps suddenly when I go to move away from her to wash it out, “Just another minute.” There’s a rasp to her voice, a slight pleading edge.
I dip my chin in a nod and start working again, watching her relax once more, settled into the motion of me washing her hair. We remain like that for several more minutes before I have to wash it out, taking my time with the water until no traces remain.
Grabbing a towel, I squeeze the water from the ends of her hair, but she takes it from me as she sits up, flicking her bright blue eyes to me as I stand.
“Why did you do that?” She asks.
