But the water is warming up, so I move forward and hold out my palms, tipping my head back.
God, it feels so good.
Every drop that lands on my skin feels like a kiss of late afternoon sunlight.
I hear a soft click, and glance over my shoulder through slitted eyes, seeing Bastian step out of the shower. Steam hazes up the glass between us, but I can see the splotches of paint on his chest just before he turns to leave the bathroom, sliding the door closed behind him.
When I tip my head back, it’s so that the water will hit my face.
I beg it to wash away the dirty thoughts in my mind, too.
How I’d hoped he’d stay in here with me.
Wash me.
Every inch of me. His hands where my hands are. Sliding over my skin. Nails gently scraping, creating a ripple effect that coruscates through my flesh and builds a deep, hard ache in my core.
My mouth opens on a gasp as I slowly peel the stickers off my nipples, as the water drops hit those flushed circles of sensitive, exposed skin.
There’s a bitter taste in my mouth. Body paint.
…eat it, bitch…
I turn to spit water out of my mouth, but more rushes in. And then I’m puking, on my hands and knees, retching so hard my stomach hurts.
When I open my eyes, most of it’s gone down the drain. I wash out my mouth, take Bastian’s shower lotion, and lather it over my face, my neck, my tits, my stomach.
Everywhere.
Paint swirls down the drain, mixing until it’s the same color as the mud washing off my feet.
My eyes flash open, staring at nothing.
…bitch needs training…
I hear that voice in my head again, but I don’t know who it belongs to.
So gruff, mean. Brittle with hate.
Someone said that to me, long ago.
But I buried it.
I buried it so fucking deep, along with all the other voices that told me I was nothing.
Bastian’s voice is different.
Bastian’s voice says I matter.
I wrap myself in a fluffy towel and pull open the sliding door. My professor is perched on the edge of his bed, his phone in one hand, clothing bundled in the other.
He’s so caught up in what he’s doing, he doesn’t notice me right away. I lean back against the door and rap on it with my knuckles.
He lifts his head, giving me a double take. “You didn’t see the hoodie?” he asks, a bemused smile on his face.
He disappears into the bathroom, back a second later, holding out the same hoodie I wore the last time I was at his house.
“Thanks.” I reach up for the edge of the towel where I tucked it in.
