I turn away from the table with a giggle. “Well, you are with me.”
He falls quiet, and I realize he’s going to hover no matter what I say. So I decide to improvise.
“Alright fine, where’s the bedroom?”
He points to the stairs, then moves around me, grabbing the bags and leading the way up. I follow him, my hand trailing along the wooden banister. The upper level has three bedrooms sharing a bath, but he guides me to the largest—which has its own. It’s massive, yet just as bare as the rest of the cabin. The bed looks like two king-sized beds joined together, with fresh bedding that stands out in the otherwise empty space. There’s a dresser and a closet, and thankfully, the windows have curtains.
He walks over to the bed and places the bags down. I follow, kicking off my flip flops. I start going through the clothes and pull out a nightgown just my size and a pair of silk panties that makes my eyes narrow. I can tell Leah planned this out.
He rubs his forehead again. “I will give you space in the bathroom, but I want to stay with you. Please.” The mostinnocent eyes I’ve ever seen look back at me. I keep hold of the nightgown and underwear and just smile at him.
“You are so weird sometimes,” I say, and he lowers his head as if in shame. I reach out and lift his chin so our eyes meet. “But I like it. You are so sweet Jabari, so sweet and innocent. Just a little lost sometimes.”
He smiles, his fingers gently gripping my wrist while I still have my fingers under his chin. I lean down and press my lips against his in a tender kiss that makes his breath catch. When I pull back, I glance down and notice his dick stiffening in his pants. I remember how big it was when I saw him earlier, waking up naked in his cell.
I sit upright and clear my throat. “Okay fine, but relax.” He nods but remains seated on the bed, clearly intending to wait for me. It’s pointless to argue, so I turn away and look around for towels, finding them in a small closet by the entrance.
Stepping inside, I’m stunned. The bathroom is enormous—the shower alone could fit three or four people. I set my towels and clothes on the counter, then return to face him. Those intense green eyes are still fixed on me, though he winces occasionally from his headache.
“Is something wrong?” he asks.
I hold my hand out to him. “Your shower?—“
“Our shower, Jackie,” he corrects me.
I roll my eyes but keep my hand extended. “Our shower. It’s big enough for both of us, I’m assuming because you’re this massive shifter. I want you to come take a shower with me.”
“Really?” His face lights up like I’ve just offered him the greatest gift in the world.
I shake my hand a little in front of him when he doesn’t immediately move. “You left me hanging the first time we met on the ship. Are you doing it?—“
I let out a squeal as he stands from the bed so fast I barely register what’s happening. He picks me up, flipping me over his shoulder and carries me into the bathroom.
“I guess I better get used to you picking me up,” I mutter as he sets me down on my feet once inside.
“I love carrying you,” he says, his voice deep and sincere. “I will carry you all the time if you let me.”
I just stare at him, mesmerized by the pure devotion in his words and the way his eyes shine when he looks at me.
He pulls off his shirt, and I find myself gawking at him. The planes of his chest, the way his muscles flex involuntarily—Jabari is built. Fucking built. I can’t tear my eyes away as he smiles and opens the shower door, stepping in to start the water.
Then he steps out and approaches me. “Do you want help undressing?”
I just stare at him in silence, and he laughs lightly. He moves closer, his eyes focused entirely on me. Slowly, he grabs the hem of my shirt and lifts it over my head, exposing my bra. Then he reaches behind me and unclasps it, gently pulling the straps from my shoulders. His eyes linger on my full breasts, and he licks his lips.
He drops to his knees, grabs my leggings and underwear, and pulls them down together. I step out of them, feeling exposed but not self-conscious. The way he looks at me—like I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen—makes me feel powerful and desired. He gently runs his hands up my thighs, then plants a kiss on my hip that sends shivers through my entire body.
He stands again, keeping his eyes on me as I melt under his gaze. He pulls his pants down, kicking them off his ankles, standing before me fully naked. I look over his beautiful body, my eyes drawn to his dick—the length, the size, the thickness of it. I bite down on my lip, heat pooling between my thighs.
He disappears from the bathroom for a split second, returning with his own set of towels. He places them on the counter, then grabs the washcloths and what looks like a hair tie. His fingers are gentle as he helps me gather my hair into a high ponytail to keep it dry before pulling me into the shower.
The warm water flows over us, and he reaches for the soap. I stand still, watching as he lathers the washcloth and then begins to wash me with a tenderness I’ve never experienced before. He starts at my neck, his touch gentle, the rough texture of the cloth alongside the softness of his movements.
He works his way down to my shoulders, tracing the curves with careful attention. When his hands move to my breasts, there’s no hesitation, no awkwardness—just care and appreciation as he washes each one, his fingers grazing my nipples in a way that makes me shudder.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the running water.
His hands continue downward, sliding over my belly with the same careful attention he’d given the rest of me. His touch is worshipful, tracing the stretch marks at my hips like they’re sacred patterns. He kneels in front of me, washing my thighs, the backs of my knees, my calves, even between my toes. He rises again, guiding me to turn around so he can wash my back, his hands kneading the tension from my muscles as he goes.
