“Completely,” I tell him. “It’s rude, actually.”
He steps closer, the corners of his mouth softening. “You think I’m rude?”
I smile, running a fingertip down the center of his chest, watching the water bead and follow the line.
“What you did to me in the forest was rude,” I say, and his eyes flash with the memory of it. God, I can still feel him all over me. Still feel the way he tightened and exploded inside of me.
I shift my legs, desire blooming between them.
And like he can read my thoughts, a slow smile spreads across his mouth. “Whatever you’ve got brewing in thatpretty head of yours, stop it. You’re going to eat, drink, and go to bed.”
“God, you’re bossy,” I murmur, though the word comes out softer than I intend.
“I’m practical,” he corrects, reaching past me to shut off the water.
He takes a towel from the rack and rubs gently, his touch careful where the terry brushes against my bruises. Then he crouches a little, wrapping the towel’s edge around my hair, squeezing out the water with slow, deliberate motions.
“You’re shaking,” he says quietly. And I realize I am. Shivering, really, even though it’s stupidly warm in here.
“Maybe that’s because somebody chased me through a forest.”
He grabs a robe from the hook on the bathroom door and wraps it around me. It’s so huge I must look like an Ewok. He has to wrap the belt around my waist twice to stop the ends from hitting the floor.
When he’s satisfied that I’m warm enough, he pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, his expression unreadable for a beat.
“Let me be bossy for a bit longer,” he says. It’s somewhere between a command and a plea.
I nod before I can stop myself. There’s something in his expression that melts every last ounce of resistance. He wants control, but not for power. For comfort. For care.
And maybe I want that too.
He steps past me to grab another towel, wrapping it around his own hips. The muscles in his back move as he bends, the faint marks from branches and my nails catching the light. When he straightens, he’s all calm efficiency again, though the edge in his eyes hasn’tcompletely gone.
“I’ll make you something to eat,” he says, turning toward the door. “Then bed. And no arguments.”
I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips. “You do realize that sounds a lot like an order?”
He glances over his shoulder, his mouth curling with something that feels both tender and dangerous. “It is.”
And I find that I don’t mind it at all.
nineteen
ZACH
Reality hits me at three the next morning when I wake up to silver explosions in my vision.
Sadie’s curled up on her side next to me in bed, the t-shirt I gave her ruched up around her thighs. A shaft of moonlight glows on her cheek, making her skin look soft and warm.
And I can barely fucking focus on her.
I mutter a low oath, frustrated because last night I felt like the King of the damn world. My eyes were on my side for once. I was able to be what she needed me to be. To give her what she wanted.
And maybe somewhere inside I fooled myself. That I was going to be the one who bucks the trend. The one this didn’t affect.
But now I can barely focus three feet in front of me.
Not wanting her to see me like this, I get out of bed and head for the bathroom, closing the door softly behind me.In the mirror, I can only see half my face. The other half doesn’t seem to exist, not in my eyes at least.
