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“Yeah, you totally do,” Isaac disagrees. “I’m coming to the shop. You’ll both be ready to go in ten?”
“We’re ready now,”Arlo assures him and hangs up with a click. Ezra’s own click follows a second later until it’s just Ashe on the other line.
The tattoo artist sighs loudly enough that I can hear him, then says, “Do you need anything, Ari?”
“A pay raise.”
Cyril snorts out a laugh, then tries to cover it with an unconvincing cough.
“I do agree with that. I’ll come over soon and bring you guys some stuff, all right?”
“Like a fruit basket saying ‘congratulations on jumping out of a moving car?’” I can’t help but ask dryly.
“Yeah. Something like that. See you soon.” The phone goes dead, and Cyril turns around, grinning wryly.
“Youdodeserve a pay raise,” he agrees grudgingly.
“You don’t evenpay me,” I remind him, still without looking up.
He walks around the island to press his hands against my shoulders, fingers kneading against my tense muscles that feel like they’re bruised with how much tension is in them.
I writhe under him, half-sure I want to get away from the rough massage, while the other part of me is sure I never want to goanywhere.
“Shh,” he murmurs like I’ve actually said something. “You need a shower, Ari.”
“I can’t go take a shower with you trying to stab my shoulders,” I mutter, wiggling against the stool once more.
He sighs heavily as iflamentingthe fact he has to move and steps back to pull me to my feet. “Guess I should’ve waited on the bandaids,” he adds, tugging me down the hallway.
I expect him toleavethe bathroom. Or at least stand at the counter and be awkward like a normal human being.
But of course, my Peter Pan is no mereearthlycreature capable of things like not being weird and overbearing andperfect.
Instead, he turns the water on in hishugeshower and watches me get undressed while I glare at him balefully all the while.
“I’m not going to fall over and die,” I promise him, chucking my tee at the man before stripping out of my bra. “I’m not hurt badly at all, okay?”
“I just like to watch you take your clothes off,” Cyril shrugs as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He waits until I open the shower door, and then a flurry of movement catches my eye, drawing my gaze back to see that he’s takinghisshirt off.
When he does, he catches my eyes, and my expression is full of raised brows and a frown.
“I realized, suddenly, that I need a shower too. Coming to your rescue was dirty business,” he says, pushing me into the shower and onto the warming tile under us.
“Uh-huh.”
Still, I don’t exactly mind the opportunity to look at him in all of his glory. His dark brown skin is stunning, and the muscles under it areperfectas he turns and wets his hair before cracking an eye at me and grinning.
“Wendy Darling, should I have drawn a bath? Am I going to have to clean you myself?” The words send a ripple of heat through my body that has nothing to do with the spray above us, and I sniff in false disdain.
“You’re hogging the water,” I say, trying to remain unaffected by all ofhimon display.
“Poor thing. I’m justsosorry for my inconvenience. Here.” He suddenly spins us, soI’munder the water, and as I watch, he grabs a sponge and lathers it up with soap.
“If I realized you were just looking for me to do this myself, I would’ve certainly drawn my sweet Wendy a bath,” he purrs, moving to draw the sponge lightly over my upper body and down the arm that’s stained from blood and asphalt.
I wince, and his touch gentles, but I snatch it from him before he can start touching my thigh.
It’s hard to want to be clean at all when he’s in here with me, even though the showerisbig enough for both of us and with enough room left over for a third person.
