Emily
He raises my arms and lifts the shirt over my head. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror before he grabs my hand leading me into the shower. I look like I crawled out of a swamp, my face still plastered with mud and his dried cum.So embarrassing. I step into the shower facing away from him, allowing the spray of hot water to wash away the grime. The murky water swirls around our feet before going down the drain.
As more of the mud washes away, it reveals every single mark left on my skin. A scratch here and there from falling down, but it also shows every mark left behind byhim. Small fingertip sized bruises scattered across my thighs and hips. A tiny little circle marking every time he held me like he never wanted to let go. There’s a hickey on my shoulder that I don’t remember him putting there.
Most people may not like having their body marked so blatantly but to me, it’s so much more than that. Every little blemish he gave me is a reminder of the love he showed me. No matter how fleeting this may be, it’s proof someone like him loses control around me. It feels so freaking powerful to unravel a man like him.
His hard length brushes against my lower back as he reaches around me to grab a loofah. I snake my hand behind me, barely getting my fingers wrapped around him when he grabs my wrist stopping me. Turning me to face him, he kisses the inside of my wrist before dropping it and cupping my face so I’ll hold eye contact with him.
“We have plenty of time for that later. Right now it’s about getting you cleaned and fed. Understand?” His voice leaves no room for argument,but I push anyway.
“If you can’t keep up just say so.” He smirks and starts washing my body. It’s the type of smirk that means trouble.
“Keep being a brat and I’ll make you go without it even longer.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” He doesn’t respond for a moment as he drops to his knees in front of me kissing the marks he left on my hips and thighs. His lips follow the suds as he uses the loofah to wash away any of the remaining mud from my legs. He kisses the scrape on my knee and calf. His lips brush against the scar near my ankle from the surgery, tracing it with his thumb before standing back up.
I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for the snide remark that never comes. Trevor would always look at it with disgust. It’s part of the reason I normally hide it with high top converse or long socks. But Atlas isn’t Trevor.
“Are you willing to bet on it?”
I slap him on his chest and turn away from him reaching for the shampoo. Anything to cover up my reaction.
“Let me do it.”
Taking the shampoo from me he squeezes some into his hands before lathering it through my hair. His nails scrape gently as he scrubs my scalp. I rinse out the suds and he grabs the conditioner. He starts applying the conditioner to the ends of my hair and working his way up. Making sure to apply it evenly to my hair before his fingers start movingin a massaging motion on my scalp before detangling the strands with his fingers. He’s so good at this, how many other women has he done this for? Am I just the next one in a long line?
“Treat all the women you sleep with like this?” I try to play it off like a joke but I’m not sure it came out that way when he tenses behind me. I don’t think I like how that question makes me feel. Like I swallowed lead. Is this what jealousy feels like? I can tell you now I’m not a fan of it. The worst part? I have no right to feel this way. I have no claim on him. We’re practically strangers, so why does my stomach get upset every time I think of him with someone else? I forget I even asked him a question until he speaks.
“There are no other women, Chaos. I’ve only ever done this for you.”
The words sound like they almost pain him. They’re heavy. They seem to carry more meaning behind them than he intended them to. I drop the conversation, no longer trusting my voice to speak. He continues washing my hair in silence, neither one of us breaking the tension.
It’s not awkward, but you can feel the weight it holds. Like what we’re doing here means way more to both of us than it should. We don’t know each other, yet I feel like he’s the only person who I can show the real me. I’m so lost in my own thoughts I don’t even notice he has already washed himself until he’s reaching around me to shut off the water.
He hands me a fluffy white towel to dry off with, already having one wrapped around his waist, before walking out of the bathroom. Did what I say bother him that badly? Did I mess this up?
I dry off as quickly as I can and tiptoe into the bedroom with a towelwrapped around me. Sitting on the bed is one of his black shirts and a pair of black boxer briefs and black socks. I dress quickly and follow the sound to the kitchen where I assume he must’ve gone to start cooking. I take in my surroundings as I slide into the bar stool set up against the kitchen island. This kitchen is huge.
Honestly, I’ve always dreamed of having a kitchen like this. The fridge looks like pantry doors and he has an espresso machine in the corner sitting on what I could only describe as a coffee bar.
I watch him for a few more moments, not wanting to break the trance he seems to be in. He’s shirtless, wearing nothing but grey sweat pants. I laugh to myself. With me in his shirt and briefs, it’s almost like I’m wearing the rest of his outfit.
This man is so good looking it’s not fair. Sculpted back, muscular arms, that v-shape leading your eyes to his waist band. The man was edible, I swear. He seems so focused and so at peace right now. Something in my brain feels a little foggy as I observe him cook with such ease. It’s like I’m trying to recall a memory that no longer exists. Shaking the thought away I finally say something.
“Thank you for cooking for me Atlas, you really didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to, Chaos. It’s no big deal, just food.”
“Well, can I help you at all?”
“No need, it should be done shortly if you want to go ahead into the living to turn on a movie for us to watch. That would be great.”
“Yeah, sounds good. Um… have you seen my phone? I haven’t seen it since we….” My cheeks turn pink as I replay the woods in my head. Even though I’m clumsy as hell, I wouldn’t mind doing that again one day.
“Yeah, I put it on the coffee table for you. The TV remote should be right next to it. If you need anything before dinner is done just yell.”
I nod my head again, making my way over to the big fluffy sectional in his living room. I’ve never nodded my head so much in my life. I feel like one of those plastic bobble head figures, but it’s almost as if I don’t trust what I might say around him. The remote and my phone are exactly where he said they’d be. Turning on the TV, I press play on the first comedy movie I scroll across before grabbing my phone and checking my notifications.
