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7
Damian saton the edge of the tub, watching Aria’s face as it slowly relaxed. It felt almost voyeuristic to be here. He’d asked Farrell to give her a private room in an effort not to pressure her. He had no idea what she’d been through, didn’t want to assume they would pick up where they left off with everything that hadhappened.
But she’d asked him to stay, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. He took advantage of the long moments she had her eyes closed to drink in her face. He’d held it in his mind for the last two months, had begun to wonder if it would be as dear to him when he finally saw it again. He’d worried that he’d romanticized Aria in her absence. That he’d made her out to be more than she was out of guilt for the fact that he’d let someone take herfromhim.
He’d beenwrong.
She was more than he remembered. Stronger, more beautiful, morefierce.
She touched him more deeply now than ever. His desire to protect her rose like ahurricane.
Her eyes flickered open and rested on his face before shespoke.
“I think I’m ready towashnow.”
He nodded and reached for the shampoo, then moved his hands through her hair. She tipped her head back, eyes open as his fingers worked her scalp. When he used the sprayer attached to the faucet to rinse the shampoo from her hair, her eyes fluttered open. She looked up at him, her eyes dark and unknowable while heworked.
When he was done he repeated the motions with conditioner that left her hair as soft as satin. Then he reached hesitantly for the sponge on the side of the tub. He was lathering it with the soap from the side of the tub when shestood.
Water dripped off her body, and he forced himself to concentrate on the scent of lavender and rosemary rising in the bathroom. Of course, he wanted to protect and comfort her, but god help him, he also wanted her with a passion that took hisbreathaway.
He stood. “Turnaround.”
He hoped she didn’t notice that his voice washoarse.
She turned around, showing him the long expanse of her back, the perfect swell of her ass, the strong legs that had once wrapped around his hips while he’d drivenintoher.
He started with her shoulders, soaping her with the sponge, working his way to the small of her back, around each magnificent curve of her hips. He continued down her thighs to her calves, then stood, forcing his voice steady as he avoidedhereyes.
“Alldone.”
She turned to the front, and jesus fucking christ that didn’t helpatall.
He felt like an animal as he started soaping her arms, her chest, her soft, flat belly. Lust raged through him, a strange companion to the protectiveness still lurking there. He concentrated on washing her gently, over the mound of her pubis, down her silken thighs, over her shapelycalves.
When he was done he told her to sit. She obeyed without a word and he used the sprayer to wash the suds fromherskin.
“Want me to run you clean water so you can soak awhile longer?” heasked.
He wanted to give her as much time as she needed, but the truth was he also wanted some time to collect his own thoughts, get his rogue urges undercontrol.
She shook her head and stood. “I’m ready togetout.”
He turned away from her, his hunt for a towel giving him a merciful few seconds to try and tamp down the hard-on straining hisjeans.
He removed one of the thick towels from a shelf against the wall and held it open. She climbed from the tub and stepped into it. He wrapped the towel around her body, tucking the end inside the folds to keep it up. Then he grabbed another towel and worked it carefully through her hair, starting attheends.
It had grown longer while she’d been in Greece, grazing her shoulder blades where before it had barely reached her collarbone. It was still dark and lustrous, although the hints of burgundy that used to shine through it were lessnoticeable.
He used a soft bristled brush to comb through it and then headed for the bedroom. “Let’s see if we can find you something comfortable tosleepin.”
He spotted the red bag on the floor and bent to it, sorting through the things Cole had bought for her in New York. There was a pair of jeans and the red blouse, a dress, a skirt, a couple different T-shirts, a sweater, several pairs of underwear. He was about to give up when he spotted a pair of silky pants at the bottom ofthebag.
Bingo.
With one of the T-shirts, the pants would work well enough as pajamas until he could get her a newwardrobe.
He turned to face her, the clothes in his hand, and was surprised to see her standing naked before him, the towel on thefloor.
