Page 192 of Baby Girl
“Ready?”
I nod and almost fall over when his body dips away from mine, but then I’m scooped up and being carried bridal style—a favorite of Derek’s, I’m starting to notice—before I’m lowered butt first into very warm water. He then settles in behind me and encourages me to relax back against him.
A full-body shiver rolls from the crown of my head, down my neck and shoulders, and along my spine, making the floral-smelling water shimmer with my motion.
“How is the temperature? Too warm? Too cold?” A hand swirls in the water by my side, gently brushing against my forearm.
“Goldilocks,” I murmur, cracking my eyes open again.
Why do they keep shutting?
Derek chuckles, jostling me against his chest, but I can’t think what could be funny. “Okay, as long as it feels good.”
“Mmmm,” I hum and try really hard to focus and wake the fuck up. We have talking to do.
“Still feeling floaty?” A warm, wet cloth ghosts over my arm, slowly moving up to my shoulder.
“Yeah, thirsty too.”
“Xavier is coming with some water and a snack. We’ll eat something more nutritious after we talk. I’ve ordered Mexican for us. Do you like it?” He continues to move the cloth around my body, gently cleaning my neck and shoulders before moving on to my breasts.
When the wet fabric drags over my nipples, I gasp and try to curl my body away from the painful sting. “Noooo…”
Another chuckle. “No to Mexican food, or are you objecting to something else?”
“Daddy,” I whimper as he gives the other breast the same treatment.
“I have to make sure you are clean, baby,” he murmurs against my temple, doing figure eights around my breasts, making sure to swipe over my nipples until he has me squirming in his arms.
The door to the bathroom opens, and a cool breeze fills swirls around us as I try to crane my neck and look over Derek’s shoulder to see who it is, but there is a sharp sting in my nipple that makes me flinch, keeping my attention locked to the bath.
Xavier comes into view with a bottle of water and a bowl with a spoon in it. My gaze travels up his legs, which now have his pants back on, and up his shirtless torso, taking in every detail from the grooves of his abs, to the definition of his pecs, the dove tattoo over his heart, his Adam’s apple, the—
My gaze drops back down to the dove tattoo, and suddenly I am very, very awake. I sit up so quickly, water slooshes over the edge of the tub onto the floor, but I barely notice it as I scramble to stand.
Xavier doesn’t move, simply stands there holding the bowl and the bottle, and lets me stare at the tattoo. A small dove, mid-flight with its wings up, clutching a single red rose, a droplet of blood forming under one claw. There are pinks, whites, and reds. Green and brown, a little bit of yellow. It’s almost watercolor in style.
I raise my hand to touch it but pause an inch away and look up into his hazel eyes. He nods, and I place my hand over it, fingers tracing over each the healing lines of the petals and then the bird.
Little dove.
He tattooed his name for me on his body. I’m marked on his skin permanently. Forever.
My already-dry throat tightens and the backs of my eyes burn as I force my gaze back up to his. “Me.”
He nods. “You.”
A hand trails up my thigh and captures my free hand. “Sit back down, baby girl. Let Xavier feed you your snack.”
I do as I’m told, and he offers the water to us, which Derek accepts, then goes to grab the chair by the vanity. My attention is caught by all the feminine things that litter the counter, and my heart beats a nervous rhythm in my chest, but I have to ask.
“Whose things are those?” I’m going to happily blame my sore throat on why the words come out wispy and unsure.
Derek uncaps the bottle for me before handing it to me. I take a sip immediately, needing the distraction because neither of them responds right away, which makes the nerves in my stomach tighten.
“What do you mean, baby? The perfumes and creams on your vanity?” Derek’s voice sounds more than a little puzzled, and I’m starting to wonder if I seriously fucked up.
I take another sip of water to buy myself another second to think of an answer, but nothing comes to me. “Yeah.”
