Page 93 of Someone Exactly Like Me (Wounded Hearts 1)
When I’m done cleaning up the kitchen, he comes to get me and we walk back to his bedroom.Don’t look at his bed.As I enter the bathroom, it’s like I’ve been transported to a luxurious spa. The white marble tub is brimming with bubbles, the chandelier casts a dimmed glow over the room, and calming meditation music surrounds us. A tray sits near the tub, holding a gold, three-arm candelabra with lit candles, a sea sponge, and a white towel.
“Do you need anything?”
“No. This is perfect. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Take your time. I’m going to have a cigarette and maybe write some music.”
He closes the bathroom door and I undress, twist my hair up into a bun, and dip a toe into the water, testing the temperature. Just right. I step in and sink into the bubbles. As my body relaxes into the heat of the water, the painted floor-to-ceiling mural draws my gaze. The cobblestone street is lined with stone-façade apartments. Flower pots line the walkway, every arch is adorned with a garland of colorful flowers, and every window sill is dressed with a window box full of more flowers.
Closing my eyes, I let my body fall limp as the music sings softly in my ears. About fifteen minutes later, I remember the sponge on the tray. Dipping it into the water, I drag it across my arm, squeezing it and letting the water fall back into the bubbles. Another few minutes of sponging and soaking and I’m ready to get out, tired from the long day and wanting to get some sleep.
Getting out of the tub, I towel off.Shoot, I didn’t bring in anything to change into.Maybe he’s still having his cigarette out on the balcony and I can sneak across to my bedroom unseen.
I wrap the towel around me and walk quickly toward his open bedroom door.
“How was your bath?” He’s sitting on his bed with a notebook and pen.
I gasp, startled, and tug my towel tighter. “Very relaxing.”
“Good. Come here,” he says, spreading his knees.
My heart pounds as I try not to breathe loudly. My steps are hesitant. Standing between his knees, I look down at him.
A sultry smile dances on his mouth as he reaches up and twirls a piece of my hair around his finger.
“I like these wet curls around your neck.” He moves his eyes to my hair wrapped around his finger. Whether he does it intentionally or not, he quickly runs his tongue across his upper lip then his lower lip. “Are you ready for dessert now?”
Breathe!“Yes, I — I just need to get changed. I forgot to bring pajamas in with me.”
“I see that,” he says, releases my hair from his finger. Goose bumps cover my body. “Go get changed and I’ll meet you in the living room.”
“Okay.” I turn immediately and walk quickly out of his bedroom, down the hall, and across to my bedroom.
Closing the door behind me, I flop back on my bed. It was nothing. I can do this. Sitting up, I take off my towel and put on my camisole and shorts. Grabbing my sweatshirt, I put it on and go back out to the living room.
Our tiramisus from last night are on the coffee table and he’s sitting on the sofa with the TV remote in his hand.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” he asks.
“Sure. You pick something.”
Grabbing a plate, I sit in the corner of the sectional, tucking my legs under me. Finding a movie, he sits back and takes the other plate.
“Oh my gosh, this is so good,” I say, eating my third mouthful.
He chuckles at me, blowing air through his nose. “I’m glad you like it.”
When we’re both finished with our tiramisus, I take our plates to the kitchen and rinse them in the sink, then put everything in the dishwasher.
I’m not sure how long I’ll last watching the movie, but I sit back down in my corner.
“Lie back and give me your feet,” he says, moving closer to me. “I said I’d rub them for you.”
“It’s okay, they feel much better now.” I don’t think I can handle him rubbing my feet.
“You are stubborn.” He reaches out both arms, wraps his hands around my ankles, and tugs them, laying my calves across his thighs.
Oh God.
