I couldn’t even open my eyes if I wanted to. Every muscle in my body had gone slack beneath his touch, melting under the slow, deliberate way he massaged my scalp and the base of my neck.
“Huh?” was all I managed to breathe.
“You finally relaxed.” His breath ghosted the shell of my ear, voice thrumming with approval. “Good girl.”
The words should have snapped me back to myself. They should have sent me scrambling to my feet and putting space between us. Instead, they heightened the pleasure of his touch.
It was like I was caught in something heavy and impossible to fight. Some kind of spell. His fingers were damn magic.
“This is…” I tried, my voice thin and wavering. I was on the verge of panting, struggling to form coherent thoughts. The sensations he was drawing from my skin were overwhelming in the best possible way. “I—it’s nice. No one’s ever…done this for me before.”
His hands froze.
The sudden absence of movement made something desperate rise in my chest, and I nearly whimpered.
Thankfully, he started again—slower this time, almost hesitant.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” he said.
I hummed. “It feels so good.”
The words came out deep and breathy. I didn’t even have the wherewithal to be embarrassed.
His fingers pressed a little firmer into my scalp, kneading gently, and I sank further into it. My teeth caught my lower lip as another wave of tingling rolled over me.
If heaven existed, it might feel like this—warm water, steady hands, and the sense that someone was taking care of me without asking for anything in return.
22
Roman
Iwasgoingtohell.
I washed her hair for as long as possible before the water ran cold. I told myself it was because the smoke smell clung to her, that her bandages were already damp and I didn’t want her opening up her blisters.
The truth was, watching her unravel beneath my hands did something to me.
Her skin was flushed pink, her shoulders slack. All that constant hesitation and careful caution she carried around like armor had dissolved into nothing but pure pleasure.
It all made me ache for her in every way possible.
She was beautiful, completely open and soft. I wanted to keep her exactly like this—relaxed in my arms, as if she knew nothing bad would touch her while I was here.
She whimpered when I rinsed out the shampoo, realizing it was almost over.
I shushed her, not wanting to burst her bubble of contentment any earlier than necessary.
As I worked the conditioner through her hair, she melted again. My fingers slid through her slick, golden strands with almost no resistance.
Years of raising a daughter alone had taught me conditioner didn’t belong on the scalp, but I didn’t care. When my nails scraped lightly at her roots, Palmer sighed, her full lips parting in a way that nearly destroyed my restraint.
Fuck. Me.
I was so far gone when it came to her. When had that happened?
I combed my fingers through her hair again and again, nails grazing her scalp just enough to make her body react. Those soft little sounds she made—breathy, unguarded—were going to be the death of me.
When I finally forced myself to stop and rinsed out the last of the conditioner, her eyes drifted open.
