Page 90 of Riding the Curve

Her lips part, but she does what she’s asked and scoots her hips all the way forward. The water steams around me, and I step into the vanilla-scented suds. When I lower my body completely, the water sloshes over the edge. Henley’s body shakes with silent mirth.

“Come here, Trouble,” I grumble, wrapping my arm around her and sliding her back flush against my chest. Another gallon of water and bubbles slide- over the edge, and her head falls back onto my shoulder as she laughs so hard tears wet her cheeks.

Grabbing the loofah beside me, I lather it up with soap and begin washing every inch of her body.

“You don’t have to do that,” she says softly, placing her hand over mine. “ Really, I can do it myself.”

“He never did this for you?” The question flies out of my mouth.

“No.”

I raise my soapy fingertips up to her chin and angle it toward me. “Let me do this for you.”

Hen nods, her eyes glistening just enough to let me know that means a lot to her. Also reminding me that I have a lot of work to do to help her heal from the trauma that her past relationships have given her. I tenderly caress her body with the loofah as she allows herself to melt into my touch.

“Can I wash your hair?”

The muscles in her back tighten as she chews on her bottom lip then nods silently.

After all the splashing, her hair is mostly wet, but I cup my hands into the warm water and spill it over the top of her head. It cascades gently over her as I add a little shampoo to my hands and begin massaging it into her scalp.

“You just keep adding things to your resume, sir,” she hums.

Lowering my mouth next to hers, I murmur, “The only one who will ever experience what these hands can do is you.”

Her breath hitches, and I smack my lips against her cheek. I rinse her hair, adding the conditioner and repeating the same process all over again. As the water flows through her long locks one last time, I can see her eyes getting a little droopy. When a yawn slips free, I know it’s time to get her out of the tub.

I get out first, my feet squishing against the soggy bathmat underneath. I’ll have to take care of that later. Pulling the plug, Hen watches the water slowly drain as I lift her out of the water and place her on a dry patch of the bathroom floor. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy drying off every part of her smooth skin. It gives me time to commit the expanse of her body to memory.

Once she’s dry, I slip out of the bathroom and grab my shirt. “Arms up.”

A blush touches her cheeks as I slide my large shirt over her body. Hen’s tall but I still tower over her by a few inches. The edge of the hem hits just beneath her ass, and I can feel heat rising in me once more. I bite the inside of my cheek to restrain myself from throwing her onto the counter and losing myself in her all over again. I’ll just have to settle for carrying her in my arms. I carry her out of the bathroom and straight to the bed.

Folding back the covers, I slip her underneath and tuck her back in.

“Em, we have work today.” She yawns. “We only have so many days left. There’s still so much left to do.”

Pressing a kiss against her forehead, I shake my head. “Not today. Today, you’re going to rest. When you wake up, you can come find me.”

Tiredness is setting in, and I revel in the moment she snuggles her head deeper into the pillows.

“Fine,” she sighs.

I watch her eyes flutter shut as I put my clothes back on. Before I leave, I turn back toward her. “Hey, Hen?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I take you to dinner tonight?”

“Like a ‘date-date?’” she asks.

With a smile, I laugh back, “Yeah, like that.”

She hums sweetly. “Of course.”

As I gently close the door, I pause and run my hand over Henley’s tattoo, like I have thousands of times over the years. The cloud above me passes, and the sun’s rays trickle over me.

If that isn’t a sign that this is right, I don’t know what is.