Page 65 of When The Mountains Held Us

“How’s your hip?” I manage.

She sighs and drops the towel, clearly not bothered by the fact that I’m standing in front of her. I quickly turn, moving to the vanity, and riffle through the drawers until I find what I’m looking for while she dresses.

“Sore, but no sharp pain or anything like that. I think it’s just bruised.”

“I’ll grab you some ibuprofen in a minute. It should help take the edge off.”

I finally locate what I’m looking for, and once she’s dressed, I motion for her to come stand before me, facing the mirror. She moves with lithe grace, her wet feet making little padding sounds across the warm tile.

I take in the sight of her in the mirror, studying the rosy color in her cheeks and her bright, but tired eyes. She looks how I feel. Exhausted from the weight of the world, but there’s a new sense of relaxation that surrounds us. Like she’s comfortable here in this intimate space with me. Like we’re any ordinary couple going through the contented motions of routine.

I could get used to this feeling.

She watches me in the mirror, a glint of amused confusion shining in her eyes. She looks so small compared to me, my clothes hanging slack and shapeless off of her frame. I clear my throat and lift the hairbrush over her shoulder to show her in the mirror.

“May I?”

Thirty-Three

Oakley

Itake in my reflection in the mirror as Levi gently dries my hair with the towel.

My eyes are bright, but tired, and they linger on his thick brows scrunched in concentration. I’m exhausted. It’s probably well past two in the morning at this point, and if I let my mind wander, I know I’ll end up tossing restlessly in my bed instead of sleeping, haunted by the memory of his lips on my forehead, and how much I wish they had trailed over the rest of my body.

I’m more than a little turned on right now. The possessiveness of his hand around my throat, coupled with the soft press of his lips against my skin, had liquid heat flooding my core. Even now, I can still feel the evidence of my arousal slick between my thighs, my clit pulsing in anticipation of a touch that isn’t coming tonight.

Levi lifts the hairbrush and begins to brush my hair. My eyes flutter, but I don’t let them close, not wanting to miss a moment of the hushed concentration emanating from him as he cares for me. Like before, the feel of his hands in my hair is tender, gentle as he works through the knots and brushes the wet strands straight, his hand smoothing over each section after he pulls the brush through it.

“Where did you learn that?” I ask.

“I do give a mean scalp massage.”

I laugh, the sound light and airy, and I’m rewarded with a teasing smile as his eyes meet mine in the mirror. “You know what I mean,” I say, gesturing to my hair.

He’s quiet for a moment, his attention returning to his task. His voice is nearly a whisper when he finally answers me.

“My parents weren’t always… present when I was younger. My little sister has long hair like yours, except hers is more of a chestnut color. Someone had to learn how to tame that mess.”

His admission is light, but I can hear what he’s not saying. There was no one else to care for his sister, so he did. Rather than let her go to school with messy hair, he took the time to learn how to care for it until she could do it on her own.

“I’m sure she appreciated it.”

“She did. Even if she did fight me the whole time. She hated having her hair brushed when she was little. Said I pulled too hard, and when I lightened up, complained there were still knots in it. But she never told me no when I offered to help her, even when she was old enough to do it on her own.” He finishes up, running the brush through the perfectly detangled strands one last time before taking my hand and leading me out of the bathroom.

His bedroom is dark, the only light in the room coming from the full moon shining through the large windows along the wall. I stand awkwardly in the center of the room and let my eyes trail over to the large king bed situated against the wall.

Am I supposed to sleep in here with him tonight? As much as I love the idea of sleeping in his arms all night, there’s still a lot I need to sort through in my mind, despite feeling like so much has changed between us.

“Are you hungry? Do you want something to drink?”

“Water would be great, but I can grab it.”

“Don’t you dare.” He laughs from behind me and follows me out into the hall. He stops me in front of my room, opening the door for me and ushering me inside. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

He’s gone before I can respond, and I sink onto the edge of the mattress while I listen to the sound of his footsteps descending the stairs. I let out a long exhale, running my hands down my face. Exhaustion threatens to overtake me, and my throbbing hip overcomes the dull throbbing between my legs.

I drop my hands from my face when Levi’s footsteps thud against the stairs, signaling his ascent. A second later, he crosses the threshold and stands before me, holding out a bottle of water and two small pills. I accept them with a small, “Thank you,” and swallow them down before taking another long sip, loving the feeling of the cool water as I swallow.