Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 124341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Two virtual strangers who were anything but, living separate lives, each possessing a piece of the other.
She didn’t completely comprehend what he’d endured, and she had a feeling he was glossing over the worst of it or maybe even leaving it out. All she knew was that his body was a map of scars, he cringed away from human touch, and he’d been taught to deny himself even the most basic of creature comforts.
Like hot water.
The shower curtain was closed, the bathroom very small, but no steam filled the air. He was standing under a frigid spray because someone had made sure he was used to it. Or worse, someone had made him believe the momentary comfort of a hot shower was a luxury he shouldn’t allow himself.
He’s only ever known discomfort, pain. Maybe even brutality, though I wonder if he’d classify it that way. I wonder if he even realizes the extent to which he’s suffered.
If I want him to know gentleness, I’m going to have to teach him.
It was suddenly very clear. He’d saved her once, and she’d saved him right back, but there were more ways for a human being to be saved, and she sensed he needed several.
She shrugged out of the robe she’d put on, goose bumps erupting on her skin, nipples pebbling. In this back room, away from the warmth of the fire, the air was chilly.
She said his name softly, pulling the curtain open slowly, the metal rings grating on the curtain rod.
Sam turned, wiping water from his eyes, rivulets streaming down his skin. Oh. Her eyes did a quick sweep of his naked body, her mouth going dry. He had waterproof bandages just over his stitches, but other than those small, covered areas, she could see every glorious inch of him.
Oh, good Lord, he was sublime.
Amazing.
A wounded god. An immortal superhero. Part man, part monster, or so he thought. But what a glorious monster he was.
His brutal beauty was staggering, yet at the same time, she almost wanted to laugh at the comical sight of such a large man in such a small shower.
Still, she was planning on joining him.
“Autumn?”
Those nerves fluttered wildly in her stomach. Nervous. Excited. Certain.
She met his eyes, turned the faucet to warm, and then stepped behind him into the stall. It appeared he’d stopped breathing for a moment when a large gust released, his eyes widening as he took the smallest—and only one he could—step back, making room for her. “Autumn.”
“Sam.”
“What are you doing?”
“Joining you.”
“Oh.”
“Is that okay?”
The water had heated, steam beginning to swirl around them.
His lips parted—those beautiful soft lips—and though no words emerged, he nodded, blinking. She saw his strong throat move as he swallowed and sensed his nervousness. And his excitement at her nearness.
His expression gave him away, his body gave him away, and he sucked in a breath when his erection grazed her hip. She didn’t dare look down. If she did, she’d lose all nerve completely.
This was for him. But it was more about making him feel comfortable with her touch, and oh, she hoped it was about helping him realize he deserved pleasure. No matter how small.
“If you think you need to thank me for the journal—”
Her surprised laugh interrupted him. Oh, Sam. “No. I’m grateful for the journal. Moved beyond words. But…no, I’m not in the habit of getting naked to thank anyone for anything.”
“Oh.” He searched her face. “That’s a good…rule of thumb. I’m glad to hear that.”
She almost laughed again because he was so damned adorable, and he had no idea whatsoever.
“Turn around,” she commanded.
He did—slowly—though he glanced furtively over one wide shoulder like he preferred to keep an eye on her to know what was coming.
She smiled. “I’ll tell you before I touch you.”
He turned all the way around then, his head dropping forward as he put a palm on the wall. She thought he murmured her name again but if he did, it was a bare whisper above the spray of the water. Numerous scars marred the skin of his back, ones she hadn’t yet seen. Muscles upon muscles, sleek yet scarred. He leaned forward, ducking enough to put his head under the stream. A small moan escaped him, and the sound reverberated through Autumn.
“How does that feel?” she asked.
“Good,” he answered. “Very good.”
“Cold showers are for the birds,” she said, and his answering laugh sounded pained. She reached forward and turned the faucet just a hair so that the water was even warmer, just bordering on hot. “I’d like to give you your first hot shower experience in the hope that you never again choose differently.” To Autumn, the moment seemed dreamy, almost unreal. In a way, it felt like the forest where she’d once run from him, only minus the fear.
There was none of that here, and she wasn’t running from him now. Quite the opposite.