“I’ve already got the water running,” Reid snaps.
“That was very thoughtful of you, now get out.” I shoot back, peeling my soaked jersey from my skin. The fabric hits the tile with a vulgar squelch, punctuating my point. I’m not going anywhere.
Reid meets my stubborn glare, yanking his stained white tee over his head and tossing it aside too. I hate how quickly he recovers, and I hate how my eyes dart down to gleam a look at his abs. Wait, maybe he does put down his sketchbook long enough to get some crunches in. But that’s beside the point. Steam is beginning to billow around us and I’m not leaving until I’m squeaky clean.
My sports bra follows, flung across the room as I wrangle with my leggings. Reid tugs down his shorts, which he was seemingly going commando underneath, and starts towards the shower cubicle. My gut twists, and I lunge, skidding beneath the spray first. Annoyingly, Reid steps in behind me, his face all hard lines and irritations. We’re locked in a silent battle of wills,neither one backing down, neither one acknowledging that we’re both stripped down to only our bare skin and pride.
The spray of heated water is an indulgence I’m not used to feeling, and I can’t hold back my stifled moan of pleasure. My hair instantly becomes plastered to my face, forcing me to blink through the sudden haze. Warmth beats against my skin, chasing after the coldness weighing down my limbs. I sniff, a reminder of the sob I’ve been strangling creeping back to the surface. No way, not now. Maybe not ever after. Everest isn’t worth my tears.
Coming back to myself, I realize Reid is still glaring, steam dampening his hair, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. His expression doesn’t match the usual detachment I’ve grown to know. Although, an instinctive part of me recognizes it for what it is. He’s expecting me to fold, to retreat from the discomfort of standing topless before him. Unfortunately for Reid, I’m far too drained to care, so I hook my thumbs into my panties and kick them off. Now there's no mud, no uniforms, no barriers left between us.
A battle of wills follows. Water droplets hang on my lashes, my hair drenched as it hangs limp behind me. Reid’s eyes flick down before he can stop them, dragging over my breasts, my curves, and after this afternoon, no doubt my deepening bruises. The silence thickens, becoming as dense as the steam curling around the room. The tension presses against my skin, drenching more than the water cascading over nipples.
“Well,” I raise a brow when the awkwardness sets in. “Don’t just stand there. Pass the shampoo.”
Reid huffs his irritation, his gaze snapping back to my face and then to the wire rack beyond his shoulder. Out of all the toiletries, only a select few bottles belong to me. The entire top shelf is taken over by a range of expensive brands and to my surprise, Reid reaches out to snatch one of the bottles. I hold outmy hand for it, until Reid grabs my wrist and twists me to face forward. I gasp, bracing myself on the wall before gathering my composure. Attempting to turn back, not liking the shift in the power balance, Reid’s hand finds the back of my neck and holds me firmly.
The water hits my face, hot and relentless, and I sputter slightly as he uses my braid to tug my head back, a dollop of shampoo being squeezed into my hair. I freeze, my brows twitching at the sensation of my braid being unraveled, fingers digging into my scalp. It’s not gentle, but I imagine the mud caked into my hair isn’t very forgiving either. And yet, his fingers continue their methodical work, completely ignoring the brush of his shaft against my ass. I swallow, keeping myself extremely still.
What am I doing? How did I even get here? Questions rush through my mind, confusion mixing with curiosity. My earlier resistance dulls, replaced by an awareness that’s hard to ignore. I’m standing here, naked, under a scalding stream, while Reid is washing my hair like it’s the most normal thing in the world. In fact, it’s his ability to act casual that settles the shudder trying to work through my shoulders.
Reid’s hands move with purpose, dragging the shampoo through every strand, ensuring no dirt is missed. I reach forward, adjusting the temperature slightly, letting the water run hotter, chasing away the lingering chill still clinging to my skin. The spray shifts, beating down harder against my chest, and Reid adjusts with it, his focus seeming to settle. The motions slowing to lather rather than scrape.
Just as I begin to settle into the rhythm, his hand shifts. It drops from my hair to my throat, curling lightly. My eyes widen, a silent question on my parted lips that doesn’t form. He doesn’t choke or tighten his grip, merely holds firm, his fingers restingagainst my pulse as he tilts my head back into the stream. Water pours over my face, washing the suds away in thick rivulets.
I instinctively squeeze my eyes shut, breathing carefully through my nose as his fingers trail towards my jaw. Under the guise of washing me off, he explores, his other hand continuing to rinse through my hair. My mind refuses to switch off as I try to imagine what Reid is doing, what he’s thinking. Is he trying to be a physical reference for his drawings? Is he creating more words to describe me by?
As I spiral, Reid shifts again. His hands find their way to my shoulders, his thumbs sinking into the knots formed between the blades. His dick is against my ass, definitely hard, as he kneads the tension from my muscles. I don’t pretend not to enjoy it, my head sinking back of its own accord.
As his fingers drag down the length of my shoulders and back up again, easing the last of the tightness from my muscles, I don’t pull away. I don’t fight him. I just stand there, eyes closed, breathing uneven, letting myself have this one moment. This one luxury that’s being offered up from the most unsuspecting place.
His touch is the right level of firmness, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. His thumbs press deeper, working into the tight muscle with slow, grinding circles that make my breath catch. The contrast between his touch and the hard press of his dick against me is dizzying. I feel every shift of his body, every controlled breath that ghosts over my damp skin.
Reid pulls back just as abruptly. Air hits my back again, cool in comparison, and I blink rapidly, pushing wet strands of hair away from my face. Turning in a slow circle, I feel the flush creeping across my cheeks as I fail to keep my eyes on his face. He’s gloriously hard, and dare I say, extremely well-endowed.
“Well,” I say breathlessly, “that was?—”
“Shh,” Reid grabs the next bottle and squeezes a dollop of conditioner over my scalp. The cool liquid spreads into my roots,the coconut scent matching his shampoo. He works faster now, and I get to watch the strain of his movements. Veins pull taut along his tattooed arms, the fine outlines of roses and skulls shifting over the surface of his skin. There’s so much restraint in his limbs, he’s practically trembling, and that makes me smile.
His white hair hangs damp and disheveled, strands clinging to his forehead, softening what would otherwise be an unapproachable edge. But it’s his eyes that hold me, stormy gray, entirely focused on what he’s doing rather than appreciating my body any further. He doesn’t need to, his dick bobbing is proof enough of his approval. Not that I need it, but it’s always nice to find out the inconsiderate asshole from next door isn’t as unaffected as he acts.
Water slicks over his skin, catching in the sharp lines of muscle across his chest and shoulders, tracing the definition I didn’t expect. Reid clothed is an arrogant jerk. Reid naked is a piece of art in itself. His fingers continue their path, dragging gently through my hair, massaging my scalp and temples in a way that sends small, unwelcome shivers down my spine. Then, with a solid grasp of my throat, he jerks my head back under the shower head and lets the conditioner drip over my body and swirl into the drain. I make no move to rush the process, giving him a final look at the sight he’ll never see again. He finally drops his arm.
“Are we done here?” he asks, but his tone holds its strained edge that has nothing to do with my presence and everything to do with his reaction to it. Behind me, the stream of water has just shifted from hot to cool, strings of cold water mixing into the spray. My smile grows as I drag my hair over my shoulder and wring it onto his feet.
“Yeah, we’re done.” I leave the shower, wrapping myself in his towel and concealing my laugh as Reid apparently steps forward, being doused with ice. The sound that escapes him issomething I’ll treasure, a high-pitched shriek that cements the grin on my face. I reckon he could do with a cold shower anyway, for a few more reasons than just my delayed revenge.
Chapter Thirty Seven
My head lolls to one side, then back again. I whimper, my dream softening just enough to realize that the visions behind my closed lids aren’t real before they pull me back in. I’m dragged downwards, through the mattress and into the void waiting for me. Everest’s voice warps around me as I tumble freely, echoing words of ownership that I lash out against. His claim is like a leash tightening around my throat, the air burning in my lungs as I buck and writhe.
A scream pierces my skull. I go still, hunting through the darkness for the source. It comes again, the high-pitched, desperate sound cutting straight through me. I start running, or at least I think I am. My feet don’t seem to hit anything solid,my body dragging like I’m moving through thick air instead of space. At first I thought I was moving away from the scream, but then I catch a flash of blonde hair and I realize, I’m running towards it.
“Laura!” I try to cry out, but my voice is swallowed before it can reach her. Panic spikes within me, a sob locked in my shackled throat. I should know where she is. I should know how to find her. Shadowed figures appear on the edges of my vision, their shared whispers joining together to roar within my ears.
“Do something. Find her.”They’re everywhere, the press of bodies closing in. Some faces I recognize, others I don’t, but they all turn toward me with the same expression, the same accusation burning behind their eyes. “You failed her.”
My chest tightens, breath catching as I spin in place, trying to findher, but there’s nothing. No direction, no answers. Just noise, unbearable pressure and the overwhelming certainty that I’m already too late. Laura screams again and as I spin around, I’m airborne again, tumbling backwards.
