Page 116 of Ramshackle
I want to say yes. He gave me orgasm after orgasm, and I don’t think I could handle another without putting my health at risk, but having him looking likethatreminds me that while he got me off, we didn’t have sex.
I try to lift my arm, but everything aches.
He should’ve let me stretch before tying me up and keeping his word.
I shake my head. “Can you help me get out? I can shower after some sleep.”
“You should wash before going to sleep,” he murmurs, shifting forward again and kneeling onto the folded towel. He picks up soap from the floor and lathers it in his hands.
I watch him, entranced. And then it clicks that he isn’t getting in the tub with me. “You needed to take your clothes off to help me?”
“You were asleep at the time, and it would be easier if I was in with you,” he explains evenly.
Oh.
Well, I’ll pretend to not be disappointed that he caught me awake.
His hands work a soaped-up washcloth over my back. I close my eyes and hum with pleasure.
The soap smells like cinnamon. Like him.
“You know,” I muse dreamily. “If your plan all along is to drown me, then you’ve done a good job,” I tease, only half kidding because seriously. I can’t move.
“Don’t joke about that,” he admonishes, and my lips curl to a small smile.
I can joke about it because I know he would never hurt me. Spanking or rough sex aside. Tie me up? Yes. Lock me up? Without question.
But even when he said he didn’t trust me, he let me in more than anyone else. He looked out for me. After Portia was taken and Vera surprised us all, he brought me back into their inner circle. He could say whatever he wanted, but that didn’t stop him from doing what he always did, what he’s still doing now.
Taking care of others.
Like he’s doing for me. How he’s been protecting Dane. Running the Guild.
He may be controlling and demanding or make me do things I don’t want to do, but it usually winds up being what’s best for me, even if I can’t see it at the time.
Not that I’lleveradmit any of this to his face.
“Here.” I open my eyes. He holds a washcloth in front of me. “Wash between your legs.”
His ebony gaze is intense on mine. I still can’t read anything from his expression, but his eyes…
They’re so dark that they appear endless, like two black holes that would suck me in if I let them. I feel drawn to them when I have his full attention, their gravity drawing me closer.
My breathing shallows. “I can’t move,” I repeat, knowing full well that I’m asking him to touch there again.
“Brat.”
The nickname brings me back to our days of push and pull between us, and I smile.
He shakes his head, then raises himself off his heels to position himself better.
Aiden shifts against the side of the tub, his hand and the washcloth disappearing beneath the water. The next thing I know, his face is hovering close to mine as he rubs the cloth along my inner thigh. The side of his nose brushes against mine, and the air between us heats to scorching levels.
I can’t breathe.
His eyes are focused downward on his task, but I can’t see past how close his lips are to mine.
The washcloth moves to my other thigh and up. Up. It grazes over my core, and a shiver of pleasure curls down my spine. My muscles clench eagerly, even as weary as they are.
