“And about Dean Dutta?”
He spins me around to face him, then lifts my chin with a crooked finger. “Look at me. I may be slow, but I believe you. We’re in this. I’ll protect you. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’llprotectyou, Scout. Got me?”
I tilt my head. “Slow?”
With a shrug, he gives a small smile, then points toward the bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
But the word sticks with me.
Is that what he thinks of himself?
Before I know it, I’m half naked, standing in front of our bathtub as it fills. Coconut scent rises from the steam, soft and warm.
“These are weird. Smell good, though,” Apollo says, tossing in a second bath bomb.
The surface bubbles so high, I fear it’ll spill over the rim. “You just need one,” I giggle.
“Oh, shit. Sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’ll get extra comfort from it. And the oils from my skin should help dissipate the bubbles.”
He loosens the buttons on his shirt and tugs it out of his pants, tossing it toward the hamper. His pecs are firm and covered in ink.Deltasymbols. A griffin. Some Greek letters. A building that looks ancient. And on his back, a full spread of the god Apollo shooting an arrow. I let my hand reach out to smooth over his skin. He responds with a sharp inhale.
“These are beautiful. I didn’t take the time to study them before.” I stop breathing. “What’s this?”
In the rubble of the arched doorway Apollo the god stands in, where the arrow has struck, is a…Rod of Asclepius.
“Just like mine,” I whisper.
His Adam’s apple bobs with a swallow. “It is. My brother did this one, too.”
I lift my eyes to meet half-lidded ones. “We match.”
With a slow nod, a pleased grin crosses his handsome face, revealing those dimples that make me weak. “We always did.”
“You got the same tattoo before me?”
“Yeah.”
“Why doyouhave it?”
“Apollo. He’s the Greek god of healing.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
One of his big shoulders shrugs. “You were so determined. Didn’t want to ruin your decision, spoil it by saying it wasn’t unique.”
I snort. “I don’t care about that. I just…” I pause, suddenly wondering if the psych tests were right. Maybe weweremeant to be. “I have the same tattoo as my husband.”
Carefully, he brushes back some of my hair. Like he could damage me if he went too fast. “Yep. We’re a unit.”
The steam doesn’t just rise from the tub. I feel it inside. We’re certainly acting as if we’re aunit. And I like that. More than I’m willing to admit.
I break away enough to step inside the bath, dropping my towel. A moan of pleasure escapes my lips.
“Well, I’ll just…” Apollo turns to leave, but I stop him.
“Wait! Will you— Will youstaywith me?”
