“Yeah. Doesn’t everybody have those? My shower is full of them.”
She couldn’t help giggling, trying to picture the man standing on rubber yellow ducks as he showered, then shivered uncomfortably, even under the warm water, at the thought of his naked body wrapped in steam.
“Hey,” he chastised. “Don’t make fun of my ducks. They’re whimsical.”
Striving to control her laughter, she promised, “I would never.” However, the laughter wouldn’t stay trapped inside, and she began giggling again. “And by the way. The secret of the big bad Dom and his yellow duckies is safe with me. Wouldn’t want to ruin your alpha cred.”
“Brat,” he teased. “I’ll leave the door open so I can hear you. Just call when you’re ready for me to help you out.”
“Will do.”
For the first few minutes, she simply stood under the spray, letting the heated water drizzle down over her and soothe her battered muscles. He was right. The water pressure did suck, which was one of her biggest pet peeves, but it was warm, and the idea of being clean was too heavenly to pass up.
As she finally began washing her skin, she marveled at the grime she’d collected on herself. The parts covered by clothing were relatively clean, protected by the material. But the exposed areas of skin, including under her nails and on her scalp, were itchy and gross.
Finally, the water ran cold, and she could no longer stand the chill, so she shut it off and called out to Triumph. Within seconds, he was inside the bathroom, handing her a towel, then lifting her out of the tub.
He squeezed the water out of her hair with a thin towel, then patted her down with a second, mindful of her stitches. Reaching for the sink, he ignored the pile of clothes he’d left there before and shook out a black T-shirt, which he pulled over her head and helped her put her arms through the sleeves.
She looked down. It barely reached past her ass, and there was a motorcycle stretched across her chest, the wheels almost perfectly resting on her tits.
When she looked up at him, she smiled wryly at his little-boy smirk and the shrug he gave her.
“I have a Y chromosome. Can’t help it. It’s a marking thing.”
“I hate to tell you this, but no one’s going to see me in it but you. Not a very successful marking tool.”
“Doesn’t matter. I know you’re wearing it. It’s enough.”
Oh lord. She was done for.
GIVE…
Triumph
At least onequestion was answered. When he looked at her nipples in the bathroom, they were jewelry-free. Guillermo wasn’t tracking her that way. While she’d been in the shower, he’d texted Midas. No jewelry tracker.
But now he had a problem. She needed to sleep. Putting this woman to bed was the last thing he wanted to do.
Damn, did she look good in his favorite T-shirt. She could keep it as long as she wore it to bed every night. With him.
He helped her slide under the sheet. There, she was covered. Temptation avoided.
“Rest. We’re going to be on the road in about six hours. It’s all we can spare, but you need real rest.”
She stared at him for a few seconds, indecision in her eyes. Then she patted the bed next to her. “You need sleep as well.”
If he got in that bed, it was over. There was no way he’d be able to keep his hands to himself. Or his mouth. Or his dick. All of him would be touching her, around her, and inside her.
He tried to go for a humorous refusal. He squinted at her. “I’m not sure I trust you to not besmirch my honor.”
“Besmirch your honor? What the hell?”
He squinted further. “You’ll keep your hands to yourself?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, stop being a goober and get in the bed.”
“Goober? Not sure that’s better than besmirch.”
