“It was a gift,” he says back harshly. “One I don’t take lightly.”
I blink up at him because I think I might be feeling really emotional, and I would find it easier if we were joking about carwashes.
I’m fine with whatever this is, but hope might be the most dangerous emotion, and his words are swelling in my chest.
I reach over to the shelf and grab the shampoo, and I start scrubbing up my hair, even as he bends down, washing me again.
I swear, him scrubbing away the blood is almost more emotional than the sex.
No man who has made a mess of me has ever cleaned it up after. They hurt me and then they walk away.
But the fact that he’s doing this, washing me, even as he declares that he’s going to protect me…
Something inside me is threatening to break open. I rinse my hair and grab the conditioner, thankful for the water that’s pouring down. Not even I can tell if I’m crying.
But as Win moves up my body, he starts kissing my scars again and I can feel a sob welling in my chest.
I’m not emotional. I rarely cry. But I want to now, and it’s not anger, hurt, or injustice that brings out the waterworks. Apparently, it’s kindness that turns me into a complete girl. My hands come to his shoulders and then, I don’t mean to let it out, but a broken noise escapes my throat.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, standing and pulling me close.
“I’m just…I’m not used to…” I can’t get the words out, but I’ve said enough, because he pulls me tight against him.
His large hand cradles the back of my head as he murmurs, “Hush. I’m going to make this world safe for you, Katarina. I swear it.”
I nod into his chest, backing away, trying to pull myself together. We finish the shower in a peaceful quiet and then I wrap myself in one of the ridiculously fluffy towels, and plug in the hair dryer.
Win kisses my shoulder before he wraps a towel around his hips, heading back into the bedroom.
It doesn’t take me more than ten minutes to dry my hair, but when I’m done, I come out to find the bedding gone and coffee and breakfast sitting on a tray.
In addition, Win is no longer in a towel, but in trousers and a collared shirt. “How did you manage that?”
“I had help.” His eyes rake down my body, still only wrapped in a towel and he beckons me closer. He picks up a coffee and hands it to me. It’s an espresso, just like yesterday.
I take a sip and then sigh at the delicious flavor. “So good.”
He crosses to my dresser, opening the drawers, and pulls out a simple dress that looks out of place here in his palace of a home.
But Win doesn’t seem to notice as he opens another drawer and pulls out a bra and cotton underwear.
It would have been nice if he’d grabbed something a bit sexier. “Cotton?” I ask, quirking a brow.
“You need to be comfortable today.” He moves back to me, setting the clothes on the bed. “I’ll need the accountant’s phone number.”
“Sure, is there a pen and paper so I can write it down for you?”
“Just put it in my phone.” He gestures to where the device sits on the bed next to the clothes. “Code is 022526.”
Is he seriously giving me his phone code? I stare at him for a moment even as he grabs the phone, and places it in my hand.
Then he turns back to the bureau. “What are you doing?”
“You’ll need a wider variety of items for everyday use.” He opens a drawer, rifling through the contents.
“I packed light,” I say with a shrug, typing in the code. “I was more concerned with…” But my words die.
Because his call log appears, Ken’s name flashing on the screen several times.
