Once the hot water beats against my back, the adrenaline that keyed me up dissipates, and I can feel my body getting sluggish, but I thoroughly scrub my body and wash my hair, and brush my teeth before exiting the shower and making my way over to the bed after I’ve dried off.
I pull the covers down and climb into bed, sliding up behind Ariah, wrapping my arm around her body, and pulling her into me.
“You’re back,” she mumbles, sleepily.
“I am.”
“Good,” she murmurs, and then her breaths even out as she falls back to sleep.
I lower my head until my mouth presses to her neck, planting a light kiss and inhaling her calming scent.
Finally, it’s quiet.
Peace—is my last thought as my eyes close, and the dreams that normally haunt me are nowhere to be found.
36
ARIAH
Amasculine spice hits my nose, and I immediately wake up.
I’m enveloped in the warmth of two massive arms. My cheek is pressed to Owen’s chest. I’m completely cocooned.
I could stay like this forever, but my bladder is a second away from reverting me into a potty-training toddler.
Pulling out of Owen’s warmth, I climb out of his bed, groaning at the delicious ache between my thighs, and rush to the bathroom, making it just in time not to embarrass myself.
Once I’ve finished and flushed the toilet, I stand in front of his expansive mirror, staring at my disheveled state.
I turn on the faucet to wash my hands and look for toothpaste. There’s no way I’m climbing back in that bed with morning breath. I don’t want to be nosey, but I need at least some mouthwash, dammit.
My eyes lock on the spot Wyatt and Owen devoured me the last time I was in his bathroom. Heat rises in my cheeks as butterflies stir in my stomach.I wonder when we can repeat that?
I finally spot the fancy ass opening and press it open. I find mouthwash and two motorized toothbrushes. The one that’s been used is obviously Owen’s, and another is still in its box. A spare, maybe? Snatching it, I decide to brush my teeth. I can always replace it.
“Angel, get your fine ass out of that bathroom. I don’t give a fuck about morning breath,” Owen shouts from the other room, sounding like he’s still in bed.
Walking to the door, I lean against it and mumble around the toothbrush, “I’m not kissing you with stale breath.”
Owen smirks, lowering the covers and slowly exposing his tattooed-rippled abs two packs at a time.Fuck!
“You got a little something there on your chin,” he teases.
I lift my hand, and sure enough, I’ve freaking dribbled toothpaste foam.
“That’s because I should be doing this over the sink,” I argue, turning and walking back into the bathroom to finish brushing.
I make it five steps inside before I’m scooped off the ground and planted on the countertop.
The way he and Wyatt are always manhandling me lets me know they don’t skip leg days. At two-hundred and sixty-three pounds, I’m no lightweight.
Owen’s hand grabs the toothbrush and begins to brush my teeth. My jaw drops open, not to give him better access, but in shock.
“Yuh knuh I cahn duh fis muhshelf,” I garble over the motor.
His hazel eyes meet mine. “Let me take care of you. I like it. I’ve never wanted to care for anyone before—let me have this.”
So, I sit and let him have this moment.
