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His blue gaze searches mine, perplexed. “You don’t have to—“
“Shut up.”
I start running a bath and strip him down. He stops me only once—to set his phone on the counter, along with a gold ring that makes my breath catch.
I’m curious about it, but I don’t ask as he steps into the bath.
When I start to scrub him clean, he stops me. “You don’t need to take care of me.”
“We all need taking care of sometimes. I learned that from you.” I sneak a look at him as I wash his hands, the dirt under his nails.
He sinks back in the tub, watching me with half-lidded eyes. “I won’t be responsible for any more people I care about being hurt.”
“You’ll stop going after Mischa, then? Because that’s the price.”
He studies me while I switch to the other hand.
“I can’t succeed,” he says. “Not if the people I love are hurt in the process. Without them, I have nothing.”
“Leni and Ash know they’re important to you,” I say softly.
His throat bobs. “Without you, I am nothing.”
The painful balloon stretching my chest expands more. “It’s not enough for you to put me on some pedestal I never asked for. To do reckless shit to protect me and anyone else. Any decisions we make, we make together. That’s the deal.”
I’m willing to put my heart on the line for him, but we can’t be together unless he does this.
His mouth tips up at one corner. “You’re right. That’s how we’ll do things.”
A wave of emotion washes over me. “You mean it?”
His slow nod makes the block of ice in my stomach start to melt.
He stands and surveys me. A hard, dripping god in a rare moment of vulnerability.
“You’re wet,” I murmur.
He reaches an arm around my waist and tugs me toward him. I step over the edge of the bathtub, my bare foot finding grip on the bottom as the water rises to my calves.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I want you with me.”
“I’m here.”
“Not close enough.”
Before I can decide whether to strip out of my clothes or try to coax him out of the bath, he tugs me down into the water. I’m soaked. My denim shorts are plastered to my hips, my tank top sticking to every inch of my breasts and heaving stomach. He strips the shirt over my head before getting to work on my shorts.
“Good luck getting them off.”
“Challenge accepted.” The glint in his eyes is the first hint of humor I’ve seen him show in a week, and I didn’t realize I was starved for it until now.
He works the shorts off my hips, though I slide and send a sheet of water cascading over the side of the tub in the process. We’re both breathless when he drags my hips to straddle his, the impressive erection pressing against my wet panties.
“I succeeded.” The rumble of his voice strokes along my skin. “I’m claiming my prize.”
The tension is as thick as the steam around us. I skim a finger across his muscled bicep, trace the scars on his chest.
