“You know what?” Nick says as he rubs her back in gentle circles. “Getting sick isverynormal. You’re absolutely killing it.”
She laughs at that, like he knew just what to say to make her feel better.He’s still here.He’s still here, and he smells this good, and he doesn’t believe any of what her mother said. “Thank you,” she says to his heartbeat. “You didn’t have to—but thank you.”
Back inside, they heat up some of her premade meals and bring them over to the couch.
“We can talk about it or not talk about it,” he says while they eat. “Whatever you want.”
“I’d like to not talk about it, if that’s okay.”
He squeezes her ankle. “Of course.”
Being around DeeAnn feels like all her worst childhood nightmares come to life. It’s humiliating for him to have witnessed, but the fact that he’s not running away—that he’s doing the opposite—it’s almost too much for her to handle.
She can’t recall the last time anyone took care of her who wasn’t on her payroll. And even then, it didn’t feel likethis.
—
“Down to 99.5,” Ramona says,removing a thermometer from her mouth as Nick dries his hands on a towel. He washed the dishes despite her telling him the cleaners would be here the day after tomorrow, and she thanked him for about the dozenth time. She undoes the cat clip in her hair, her scalp aching as she claws her fingers through it before putting it back up. “Does my hair look as gross as it feels? I haven’t had the energy to wash it.”
Nick just watches her for a long moment, gives a slight twist of his mouth—not answering her about how gross her hair is, but seeming to debate what he’s about to say. “I…could wash it for you. If you want.”
Andthatis not an offer she ever expected to receive from someone who doesn’t work at a salon.
“Just—if it would make you more comfortable,” he continues as she struggles to find words. “You could wear a swimsuit. We wouldn’t be…showering together.”
God, it does sound nice. Awkward, maybe, but nice.
“Okay,” she finds herself saying, voice sounding far away, if only because her pulse is thudding in her ears. “I’d like that.”
She spends far too long deciding which swimsuit to wear. In the end she goes with a simple black bikini with the most ample ass coverage of anything she owns, which is still little more than a slim triangle, and ties a robe over it.
Then she opens her bedroom door and leads him into the en suite. If he’s put off by the jade marble or the sprawling custom vanity, he doesn’t say anything.
“Probably easiest if you sit in the tub?” he suggests.
She nods, suddenly shy. Despite having given her two orgasms,this man hasn’t seen her naked, and even if she’s wearing a swimsuit, it’s still more of her skin than she’s shown anyone in quite some time.
When she drops the robe, it seems like he doesn’t know where to look. She watches him struggle to keep his eyes on her face, until she steps into the tub and he lets out a shaky sigh. She doesn’t feel very graceful as she lowers herself, crossing her legs and leaning her back on the outer edge to give him access to her hair. At least this way she can kind of shield her stomach. And this swimsuit does make her tits look great.
Stop it,she urges herself, wondering if all the supposed comfort she has in her new body is just when no one else is looking at it.
Nick gets to his knees on the bathroom rug, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal a heather navy tee underneath. It looks soft. Worn. Loved.Jesus, she needs to get ahold of herself if she’s fantasizing about T-shirts. Then he shucks off the overshirt altogether, exposing those forearms and toned biceps.
“How’s that?” he asks when he turns on the water, testing the temperature with his palm.
“Warmer,” she says, because suddenly her teeth are chattering, her arms tight around her midsection.
He reaches up to the clip in her hair. “Can I—” On her nod, he releases it, and they both seem to exhale at the same time. “When you wear it up, I forget how much of it you have,” he says, and this makes her laugh. Helps her relax.
“I know, sometimes I do too. I think most of my vanity is wrapped up in my hair.”
“It’s good hair.”
She lets out a faintmmmof pleasure as he turns theshowerhead on her, the warm water soaking her hair. It’s extremely cute, the way he tries his best to keep water out of her face, using his hand on her forehead to cage it in.
“Okay,” she says. “This was a really good idea. When you suggested it, I had visions of you hosing me down like a dirty car, but this is much better.”
A laugh startles out of him. “Specifically a 2005 Toyota Prius?”
