Page 60 of Bitter Lies

Now that she’s a part of this, her safety falls on me. I’ll keep her out of their reach no matter what it takes.

My mind is too cluttered to think about this now. I’ll figure it out later.

Pushing myself up from the tub floor, I reach down and haul her up with me. “Up. We only have a few more minutes before this water turns ice cold.”

The weight of her head on my chest is… comforting. Her heartbeat syncs with mine. “Don’t care.”

Grunting, I reach for the soap and quickly wash our bodies. Knowing I don’t have the hair products she needs to manage her gorgeous hair, I scrub my head and rinse. Once I’m done, I step out of the shower, dripping water on the floor, and dig through her overnight bag until I uncover what she needs. When I step back inside, I can’t help but chuckle at the sight of her.

Her hands are flat against the tile, holding her tired body upright, while the water beats against her back. Fucking stunning. If we had time, I’d take advantage.

“Here.” I remove one hand from the wall and squeeze a reasonable amount into her palm. “Wash your hair.”

She glares at me while lathering the honey scented shampoo into her locks. A shiver slides down her body when the water temperature drops more. “You need a bigger water heater.”

I shove her under the showerhead as I turn the heat all the way up, hoping it helps. “This wouldn’t have been a problem if you’d stuck to my original plan.”

Running her hands over her dark locks, she lifts one eyebrow. “Are you complaining about me going off script?”

“No. But cold water has never bothered me.” I grab her hand again and squeeze conditioner into it. “While you finish, I’ll grab some towels.”

I’m halfway through drying myself off when she yelps. The hot water must have run out.

The shower flips off, and I’m standing there with two towels ready for her. While I wrap one around her, she takes the other and starts drying her hair. After a few seconds, she does that thing women do: wraps her hair and winds it on top of her head. As soon as she’s satisfied, she bumps me away, snatches the other towel, tucking it in front to cover her body.

Getting the message, I step back, spinning to leave. “I’ll dress in my room. Take your time. I’ll start breakfast.”

“Aiden.” A delicate touch, as soft as a feather, settles on my exposed shoulder. “What now?”

“We’ll discuss that once you’re dressed.” I do something new and unfamiliar. I kiss her fingers, displaying affection, before I open the door and step into the hall.

Bear is sprawled out in front of my bedroom. At the click of the bathroom door, he lifts his head with a huff.

“Don’t start.” Grunting, I step over him and walk to the dresser, grabbing a clean pair of underwear. “I tried to stay away. And you have no room to talk. You fell head over arse for her in two seconds.”

He follows me into the closet to pick out some jeans and a t-shirt. Once I have them on, I go back into my bedroom and snag a pair of socks from the right dresser drawer, then drop my defeated arse onto the bed.

Bear tilts his head as music fills the air, Izzy’s off-key voice singing along drifts through the room. A sound somewhere between a howl and a bark rips through the air as he shakes his head, then uses a paw to scratch behind his ear.

A deep laugh bellows in my chest. “I know, but you have to take the good with the bad. We can live with that, can’t we?”

He drops to the floor with a snort, resting his head between his paws. Her singing grows louder, and he sighs, his tail thumping against the floor despite himself.

“Come on. I’ll let you outside and then feed you.” The discordant notes of Isabel’s singing follow me into the kitchen, a smile still on my face. Her cheerful obliviousness is oddly appealing.

By the time I’ve scrambled eggs, toasted bread, and heated some gammon, she’s done. The bathroom door opens, and the scent of honey, vanilla, and flowers floats into the kitchen. I’ve never had a woman’s scent linger like this, filling every corner of my house. It arouses me. We don’t have time for round two. That’ll have to wait until tonight, when I bring her back and take her in my bed.

“Have a seat.” I point to the table, where I’ve set up two places and poured us each a glass of orange juice.

Barefoot, she moves to the chair and sits, tucking one leg beneath her as she looks out to the back patio. Her eyes remain focused outside, a smile growing as she listens to Bear bark at a squirrel perched on the fence.

I bring the teapot over, fill her cup, and set out the small selection of teas I have. “Anything you don’t want for breakfast?”

Isabel shakes her head. “It looks and smells delicious.”

After dividing the food, I carry the plates to the table, take a seat next to her, and begin shoveling it in. I’m halfway through when I look up and notice she hasn’t touched hers yet.

“Something wrong?” I point my fork at her breakfast.