“You said you couldn’t do anything.”
“Not exactly. I said I couldn’t fix insomnia. I can’t fix a problem that doesn’t physically exist. However, just like I could clear your head from the alcohol for a short while, Icanstimulate certain hormones and chemicals inside of you to help you fall asleep. Shear can make sure your nightmares don’t happen, and all of that together should give you what you need.”
“I’m not going to ask you all to stay up just to help me sleep.”
I hardly heard her complaints, already in my own head planning it all out. “Doctor’s orders. I don’t want to hear a wordabout it. Go on, do what you need to for today, but I want you back at the trailer at six sharp for a bedtime extraordinaire.”
She furrowed her brows as I rushed her from the room like I was speaking a different language.
That didn’t matter though, as I made my plan. I might feel useless some of the time, but I’d be damned if I didn’t help her out with this.
Chapter Seventeen
Yun
I stared down at my front, having no idea how this had happened. I’d gone to see a doctor on a whim—the dumb choice probably due to the lack of sleep—and ended up face-to-face with Kenyon.
Anyone else I could have ignored. I could have made up some sort of story, made it seem as though I had some better idea. Something about him had made it impossible to do that though. Instead, I had blurted out the truth.
Worse, he had seemed to take it as some sort of personal challenge. The truth was that I hadn’t been able to sleep well ever since The Pitt, so I had no reason to believe anything he could do would actually make a damn bit of difference. Also, none of it was his job. As a healer, his job was to keep the espers on their feet and fighting. His job was to take care of his squad. Nowhere in his list of duties was dealing with a flighty, emotionally damaged guide.
I had a feeling saying that wouldn’t do a damn thing, though, which left me here standing in front of the bathtub full of hot water and lots of bubbles.
It was weird to think that men like this had bubble bath, but it seemed that they did. Or at least they had gone out and found some. Kenyon had shown me the bath, then left new pajamas for me, moving around like a dog who had brought me the best stick.
His excitement was nearly contagious, and if I didn’t feel like death warmed over, I might have even felt it myself.
Knowing arguing would prove pointless, I stripped down and got into the bath, wincing at the heat. I adjusted quickly enough, though.
The longer I sat there, the more I had to admit, it was nice. Lavender filled the room, like a lure toward unconsciousness. Hell, a part of me wondered if I might not fall asleep right here in the water. The heat soothed my muscles, turning them soft and pliable, and my eyes drifted closed as I relaxed.
The door creaked, and I might have given a damn who walked in if I weren’t enjoying this so much.
“No drowning,” Carter said, his voice enough to get me to open my eyes.
“Isn’t that the best sleep?” I countered.
He set his hands on his hips as though I were his problem child of the evening, though his expression lacked any real annoyance. “Do you have any idea that amount of paperwork that would go into me explaining how our guide drowned in the bathtub? Come on, Yun, think about someone other than yourself! You know how I feel about paperwork.” He took a towel and held it open. “Come on, out.”
“I can get out on my own.”
“Judging by the little bubble nap you were just enjoying, I highly doubt it.” He shook the towel as though that would get me moving.
The idea of fighting with him sounded about as appetizing as getting out of the bath, and I had a feeling he’d be the one to win that particular battle in the end.
I got up, careful to use the edge of the tub for balance. My feet pressed into the soft bathmat. Carter didn’t merely hand me the towel, of course. That would be far too easy for a man who enjoyed being as difficult as he did. Instead, he wrapped itaround me, his arms somehow less confining when wrapped in terry cloth. He dried me, smoothing those large hands—outside the fabric—over my body.
He dropped to his knees behind me, swiping the towel up my thighs. A chill in the bathroom made me extra aware of each place where a droplet of water ran down my skin, and his gaze felt like a caress.
Carter tapped my heel, and I obeyed, inching my feet further apart. He repeated the drying on the inside of my thighs, moving all the way up to the juncture. He didn’t actually touch me, and my cheeks burned at the tiny, unsatisfied moan I let out.
His soft laugh said he’d heard it, the bastard.
By the time I was fully dry—and he’d been far more thorough than he had any right to be—I was drenched in other ways.
Exactly when had I become a whore? The question was ugly, sure, but seemed valid enough. I’d gone a decade with almost no desire to speak of. Even surrounded by sexy men, I couldn’t have given a damn about anything under their clothes.
Just a few months withthese men,however, and I hardly recognized myself anymore.
