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She nodded. “Yep, it’s refreshing.”
I raised my eyebrows. “It is?”
“Mm hmm.”
I had to think about that one for a minute. “Really? Because from my end it feels more like burning than refreshing.”
“You’ll live,” was her only answer. It didn’t matter, though. I’d withstand any amount of discomfort to have her standing near me, touching me, and talking to me.
When she’d wiped my entire face with the blue solution and it was sufficiently on fire—she picked up the dark black container and began reading it.
“Hmm,” she said and screwed off the lid. Her fingers dipped into the glass jar and came out with a gloopy concoction stuck to them.
“What the hell is that?” I grabbed her forearm in an effort to keep that crap away from my already burning face.
“It’ll revitalize your skin,” she said and tried to remove her arm from my grasp.
“Uh, somehow I doubt that very much,” I said, still dodging the guck on her fingers.
Finally, she gave up. “Look, are you doing the facial or not? Because if you’re not, we might as well go back out there.” She nodded toward the closed door.
My heart squeezed and my stomach twisted. I didn’t want to go back out there with the other women.
I wanted to stay in here with my woman.
My wife.
It was enough of a miracle that she’d agreed to stay in the same room I was in.
But, to have her all to myself?
I’d take whatever I could get.
I let out a sigh of defeat and resigned to my fate. “Fine, but don’t put on too much.”
I reluctantly let go of her hand and she applied the first of the sloppy mess to my face.
The concoction actually did feel cool on my skin. “That’s not too bad.”
Again, Lexi rolled her eyes at me. “It’s just a mask.”
I let my eyes leisurely trail over her body, taking in every beautiful curve and slope I could. Christ, she really was stunningly gorgeous.
I knew I’d be pushing her tolerance of me if I did it—but I couldn’t help it. My index finger traced along the edges of her bright peony flower tattoo. I started by her elbow and traveled upward.
Goose bumps formed on her skin almost immediately—but she didn’t push me away or tell me to stop. She always loved it whenever I did this. Especially when she was naked in my bed.
“What made you decide on peonies?” I asked and watched her face soften with a sweet smile.
“They were my mom’s favorite flower.”
I nodded, loving the fact that she shared that with me. “And why on your left?”
She cleared her throat. “That’s also because of my mom. She always said that I needed a strong right for my wrist shot. And dad made sure of that.”
I nodded because we both knew her wrist shot was phenomenal. Just like her dad’s.
“But she also said that my left was equally as important. Maybe even more so.”
