Page 73 of Stubborn as a Shadow

I shoved my phone back in my pocket and turned toward the cabin.

When I opened the door, I was greeted with a shout, not in greeting, but in alarm.

“Shut the door,” Morgan yelled. “You’re letting all the cold air in.”

I slammed the door shut, belatedly realizing I should have stayed outside, on the other side of the door, because Morgan was…

I gulped.

Naked. Or damn near.

His back was to me, and I couldn’t stop my gaze from sweeping over him from head to bare fucking toe. He was beautiful. Some men put on bulk as they left their teens behind,but Morgan wasn’t one of them. He was all long, thin limbs. Elegant. Delicate.

But I remembered the way he’d clung to me on the bike. His muscles weren't bulky, but he had strength.

Given how slender he was, he should have been full of sharp angles and edges, but he wasn’t. And those subtle curves were what drew my eye from the rounded shape of his shoulder to the tight globes of his ass—his fuckingass, which was barely concealed by the thinnest, tiniest bit of teal-colored underwear I’d ever seen.

“Sorry to yell at you.” He glanced over his shoulder at me with a grin—not a seductive grin, but a happy one.

He had no fucking idea what he was doing to me.

I hadn’t realized it last night, but his face was smooth, even after going so long without a razor. Mine wasn’t. My jaw was covered in a coarse scruff that I suddenly wanted to drag across all that skin he had on display. Mark his body as mine like a possessive jerk.

“But when I washed up in the bathroom yesterday,” he continued, obviously not noticing how my eyes lingered on his body, “it was freezing. I didn’t expect you back so soon, honestly. I hope you don’t mind my doing this out here.”

I grunted. Words were beyond me.

“I heated some water. It’s cooling, so if you want to wash up too, get over here. I mean we could heat more, but…” He shrugged and turned back to his task. He bent forward to dip the cloth in the bucket beside his feet. I licked my lips as my gaze trailed down the length of his spine and landed on his ass to his tight, barely there underwear. Again.

“I hate it when I can’t shower, you know?” Morgan said, his voice soft.

It reminded me of how he’d sounded the night before, right before he’d broken down and sobbed. Fuck. He couldn’t cryagain. I couldn’t handle it. Not because of whatever reason Morgan thought he shouldn’t cry, but because it broke my damn heart.

“When I was in that cage, it was awful. People stank, and my skin felt grimy…” His words trailed off as he shivered. The cloth slipped from his fingers and landed on the floor with a splat. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Sorry. I don’t know why I said any of that.”

I was moving forward before I registered what I was doing. I scooped up the cloth and handed it to him. He glanced at me, then away quickly. When his trembling hand took the wet cloth from me, his fingers brushed mine, and I wanted to feel more of him. All of him.

“Anyway…” He cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

His voice was tremulous. Fuck. That little tremor weaving through his words almost did me in as much as seeing him nearly naked. I shed my coat and my winter gear. I dropped them on the floor around our feet. I didn’t care if they got wet from the water dripping there.

“Here,” I whispered as I reached for the cloth still hanging from his fingers. “Let me help you.”

His big, beautiful, rainbow-like eyes blinked at me. They glistened with unshed tears. It killed me to see him so sad, just like last night when he’d cried in my arms. I’d felt so fucking useless.

“Let me help,” I repeated. “I can wash your back, okay?”

He blinked rapidly, then nodded.

I crouched down to soak the cloth in the inch or two of lukewarm water covering the bottom of the pot. He shouldn’t bathe in tepid water. It should be hot and plentiful, not… well, notthis. “We should heat this up again.”

“I was almost finished." His cheeks pinkened as he stared at me kneeling in front of him. “But yeah, you’ll want to have fresh water, won't you?”

I found myself wishing for magic I didn’t have. If I was a fire mage, I could heat the water for him. If I was a hellhound, I could probably do that too. This was one more way I was all wrong for Morgan. He deserved all the things I could never give him.

But I could wash his back. And I was going to do it with hot water, damn it.

“Wrap up in a blanket,” I said. “I’ll stick the water on the fire again. When it’s hot, I’ll wash your back.”