Ariana
The comforting scent of eucalyptus filled the bathroom as I sat in the tub with my legs wrapped around Henry, his back to my front. I dipped the washcloth into the warm water overflowing with bubbles and dragged it down his back, soothing his obviously aching body.
“I was wrong,” he murmured, melting into my touch.
“About what?”
“This is definitely better than a sponge bath.”
“I’m glad you think so.” I pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder blade as I continued running the washcloth along his torso, mindful of the bruises dotting his abdomen that were even more stark against his flesh this morning. “How are you feeling? And don’t say you’ve experienced worse.”
He released a small laugh. This time, he didn’t grimace from the pain. “I’m feeling better.” He took my hand and brought my wrist up to his mouth, brushing his lips against the skin. “Your touch heals all wounds.”
“For a guy who seemed so cold and aloof when we first met, you can be incredibly romantic.”
He pulled my arms tighter around him. “I guess I was just waiting for the right woman.”
“There you go again. Making it impossible for me to stay mad at you for being a reckless idiot last night.”
“I thought being a reckless idiot was one of my more admirable qualities.”
“That it is.”
I ran my hand up and down his torso, trying to savor this moment as much as possible. But I still couldn’t stop my mind from spinning about everything he’d shared last night. How he confirmed that Victor sold Sarah.
How he’d planned to sell me, too.
“So what’s next?” I asked finally, attempting to steady my voice, despite the unsettled feeling forming in my stomach.
“What do you mean?”
“I know you, Henry. You’re probably already formulating what your next course of action will be. So what is it?”
“If I’m being honest, I wasn’t thinking about that.”
“You weren’t?”
“No. My focus has been how I can convince you to move your hands a little lower and give my cock some attention.”
I splashed water at him. “You’re horrible.”
“But you love me.”
“Yes, I do.”
Another silence settled in the room, this one heavier than before.
“It all goes back to Victor,” Henry announced after a few moments.
“What’s that?”
“My next step. It’s Victor.”
“But Victor’s dead.”
It still felt surreal to say it out loud. He’d been dead for a few weeks now, but the reality of it still hadn’t sunk in. Until we knew where Sarah was, I doubted I’d feel any solace or relief from his death.
“We’re the only ones who know that,” he reminded me. “The world still thinks he’s alive. More importantly, his buyer still thinks he’s alive. We find his buyer. We find Sarah. Hopefully.”
