He kept it simple, practical. We washed separately, trading places under the spray. No wandering hands. No escalation. Just the quiet intimacy of shared space.
When he stepped behind me, I tensed on instinct, but his hands slid into my hair and began working the shampoo in with firm, steady pressure. He massaged my scalp like he meant to untangle more than just knots, and by the time he rinsed it out, my muscles had gone slack.
I was barely upright.
But before I could sway, his arm wrapped around my waist, holding me securely as he guided me out of the tub. He wrapped a towel around me and dried me with the same deliberate attention he seemed to give everything.
“Feel better?” he murmured against the shell of my ear.
“Mm-hmm,” was all I could manage.
In one smooth movement, he scooped me up and carried me to the bed, laying me down like I weighed nothing at all. I was vaguely aware of him finishing the job with the towel and tucking me under the covers. At some point, the room dimmed. Then my eyes closed.
I didn’t notice if he took a moment for himself. I only noticed when he slid in beside me.
A faint, ridiculous voice in the back of my mind scolded me for falling asleep next to a perfect, naked man without taking advantage of the opportunity.
But exhaustion won.
The last thing I registered was the solid warmth of his chest under my cheek, the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath my ear.
For once, I wasn’t alone in the dark.
DAY MINUS 4
Chapter Sixteen
Eric
It was past midnight, and Jamie was curled against me, naked and trusting, her breathing deep and even.
This should have been simple. Count the minutes until I could wake her, watch her face transform with pleasure again. Or better yet, sleep. Dream about the way she’d fallen apart for me only hours ago.
Instead, I stared at the ceiling, my mind circling back to her story about being lost in those woods.
Christ, how had she done it? Stripped me bare with a few simple sentences about hiking trails and panic. It was the feeling of being utterly lost without even realizing it, of looking up one day and not recognizing anything around you.
Every word had hit like a physical blow because it was my fucking life in a nutshell.
I’d spent years building what everyone called the perfect life in Manhattan. When I walked away from it all, I told myself I was finally free. But I’d just traded one cage for another. Instead of chasing someone else’s definition of success, I’d thrown myself into being the perfect caretaker, the reliable brother, the one who held it all together.
I’d been so busy taking care of everyone else that I’d never stopped to ask what I wanted.
Until now. Until her.
Jamie had somehow opened a door I didn’t even know was locked. Every moment with her felt like stepping into sunlight after years underground—first in Manhattan’s shadows, then under the suffocating weight of responsibility.
The fear. The anger. The long, numb stretch of living on autopilot. It all dropped away.
With her, I felt present.
Fucking alive.
Was it possible for a blow job to lead to an epiphany? Ridiculous sounding, but here I was, feeling like I’d experienced a seismic shift in my existence.
At some point, while I was still dissecting my own existence like a damn philosopher, sleep must have taken me.
I woke to soft morning light filtering through the curtains and Jamie’s spectacular ass cradling my semi-hard cock.
