Page 36 of Pretty Thing

“I’m going to take your underwear off now.”

“Oh…you don’t⁠—”

Felix touches my lips with his finger.

“I’ll be gentle and here.” He places the washcloth over my lap. “To cover yourself.”

Say no. Order him out of the bathroom.

Those are the thoughts running through my head. I should be terrified that I’ve let him get this far, but I’m not. Instead…I nod once.

His movements are almost clinical, except that nothing about this feels that way.

Not with him kneeling between my legs in soaked jeans. Not with water dripping from his hair down his cheek, neck, and chest. Not as his hands move over my skin like I’m important. The way he’s touching me feels like a claiming.

My breathing turns uneven. Humiliation and something hotter twist together so tightly I can’t separate them anymore. His gaze doesn’t linger when he finally grips the sides of my panties. I don’t think I can physically burn up underwater, but my body sure feels like combustion is a possibility.

I wiggle my ass from side to side as he slides the material down my legs, off one ankle, and then the other. I’m now fully naked except for my bra and a tiny square of a washcloth. Felix is the first guy to see me naked, and it’s because he’s having to bathe me.

His eyes trace my body before locking on mine. He squirts soap into his hands, lathers them up, and cleans me. From my sore ankle all the way up to my hips. Felix is quiet and terrifyingly patient.

With a gentle push to the inside of my thighs, he forces them open further, and my heart stops altogether.

“Relax,” he says with that husky voice.

Sure, like that will happen. All I notice is the heat of his hands and the water beading and running down his chest. I definitely shouldn’t feel my pulse speeding up when his fingers slide up the inside of my legs or how my muscles quiver under his touch.

“Hey there. You still okay?”

I blink.

Felix watches me carefully. I nod.

“You zoned out for a second.”

“I’m…I…I’m more tired than I thought.” Partially true, but mostly a lie.

“Are you uncomfortable with me touching you?”

That is a tricky question.

“I can finish.”

I need a hole to go curl up and hide inside.

“Maybe I’m a little um…uneasy.”

“Okay.” He hands me the bottle of soap, then turns around.

I am messed in the head. Now all I can think about is what it may be like for him to touch me there. Shaking my head of those thoughts, I quickly finish up and then cover myself again.

“I’m done.”

Wordlessly, he turns the taps and grabs me a couple of towels. It’s not what he does, but how proficient he is that has me staring. He doesn’t miss a thing, doesn’t skip a step, and seems to know me and what I need before I do. It’s not only confusing. It’s…a little intimidating.

“You don’t have to hold yourself together every second around me,” Felix says, getting me to tip my head forward as he twists it up like a pro before wrapping a large towel around my shoulders.

“I’m so tired of falling apart. It feels easier to fake being okay than deal with the pain,” I admit.