Page 72 of The Bonds of Indigo

She must’ve just got out, because her skin looks dewy.

“We could’ve talked at breakfast,” she grumbles.

I swallow and watch her arms cross over her chest, holding tight to that robe as if she’s afraid I’m going to snatch it off.

“One of the things can’t be done in public.”

I’ve been with a lot of people, but there have only been two that have ever made my dick hard when they blushed. Lucifer… and now Amarah. Her face lights up as she takes a hesitant step away from me.

Fuck, the way that shade of red brightens her dark freckles has my balls aching.

“It’s… not like that.” I step toward the bathroom and nudge the door open wider. “Your arm is still bothering you, isn’t it?”

She narrows her eyes, giving a tiny shake of her head. “No, I told you it was fine. Why?”

I’ve never been a nervous person, but fuck if I’m not right now. “Let me do something for you.”

“I… I don’t want anything from you, Butcher.”

“I know you don’t. You can hate me the entire time if it helps. But it’ll make me feel better to do something—for saving my life.”

Her gaze flicks toward the bathroom, then back to me. “Why does it have to be in the bathroom?”

“Just… go.”

She chews at the inside of her cheek, weighing the request, before finally stepping inside. I follow and place my hands gently on her arms, guiding her toward the white tub. She sits on the edge without protesting.

“I’m not taking my robe off for you.” Her voice is uneven, like she’s not fully confident she means it.

I scan the counter, grabbing a bar of soap and her razor. Pulling up my jeans to make kneeling easier, I settle on the floor in front of her.

“Uh…”

“I’ve shaved myself for years, Amarah.” I tilt my head up, offering a small, confident smile. “It’s not a big deal. And I know my way around legs. I’m assuming you’re struggling to do it yourself⁠—”

“You assume wrong…”

“—so I’ll help. Now, foot up. I’ll ask my questions to distract you.”

Her knees clamp together, knuckles whitening as she grips the robe tight enough to crinkle the fabric.

“It’s not essential,” she mutters. “Does my hair bother you?”

“It’s your body, and nothing about it concerns me.” Gods, I wish that were true. “You bought the razors but haven’t used them, or you tried and couldn’t. Which means it matters to you. Will you let me help, or not? We can make this a one-time thing.”

“Do I even want to know how you know I’ve not used them…” She trails off.

We hold each other’s stare for several of her steady heartbeats. It’s only when her foot grazes my knee that I break and look down. For someone who walks around barefoot almost everywhere, her feet are fucking perfect. Each toe proportioned just right⁠—

And what the Beyond is wrong with me for noticing that?

She drags the robe up to her knees and quickly tucks the fabric between her thighs before spreading her legs just enough to get comfortable on the edge of the tub.

I reach over and turn on the faucet. The water’s still warm from her shower. Scooping some into my palm, I smooth it over her leg from the knee down, then glide the bar of soap along her skin until it’s slick and ready.

“What do you want to talk about?” she asks.

Only once I set the razor to her skin do I answer.