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“Let’s get you in the bathtub,” he says.
“A bubble bath?” I ask with hope in my voice.
He chuckles. “Whatever the lady wishes.”
“Well, right now, she’s wishing for a bubble bath,” I state as he pulls me up into his arms, leaving our clothes in the dining room as he carries me up to his bathroom. The dogs, as if sensing we want privacy, stay by the fireplace in the dining room. Or maybe we just scarred them for life? Not going to think about that.
CHAPTERNINETEEN
Adam
I wake to find Isa wrapped around me like ivy. My body feels on fire from the heat of her against me, but I don’t want to move. I reach for my remote and turn on the ceiling fans in my room. Breathing a sigh of relief as the cool air circulates around us.
I run my hand down her back. Her skin feels like satin beneath my fingertips. She murmurs in her sleep and adjusts herself, nuzzling her face against my neck. Her knee is dangerously close to my dick, and I reach down to relocate it, so she doesn’t wake to me writhing in pain.
Sunlight streams into my room. We slept in after our late night. I’m already hard again just thinking about it.
She stirs and her hand brushes against my erection. Her head pulls back and big sleepy eyes stare down at me.
“You have to be kidding me,” she murmurs.
Shrugging, I smirk. “Morning wood,” I state.
She rolls her eyes. “I think you have permanent wood.”
I purse my lips as I ponder that, and she gives my chest a little shove. I grin at her. “Only around you, beautiful.”
She giggles. And I smile, proud of myself for making her happy. Something inside me wants to make her happy all the time. I’ve wasted so much of our short time together being an ass. I need to change that.
“How’s your ankle?” I ask as I reach down to examine it.
“It’s fine. Just a little sore,” she says as I gently lift her leg and look at the small bruise around her ankle. It doesn’t look horrible, but it definitely limits what we can do today.
“We could take the horses back into town,” I suggest.
She shakes her head. “Can I ask you something?” she says as she props her elbow on the bed and places her head in her hand. I follow suit so we’re lying facing each other.
“Sure, but only if I can ask you something.” I enjoy these question games we play.
“Fine. That’s fair.” She pauses.
“What?”
“The car thing…have you tried to get in one lately?”
I start to feel my defensive anger rise and I have to squash it down. “No. I gave up on trying that a long time ago.”
“Did you stop riding in cars after…” She trails off.
“The accident?” I finish her sentence and she nods.
“If you don’t want to talk about it…”
I reach over and brush my hand across her cheek. I don’t ever talk about that night. But for reasons I don’t understand, I want to tell her. “It was a long time ago. We were coming home from a late dinner party. A drunk driver swerved into our lane and hit us head-on. The car flipped and hit a tree. Everyone died…except me. I broke a leg and an arm and two ribs. I had a concussion and a bunch of cuts. I attended their funeral in a wheelchair.” I pause, moving my memory to when I stopped riding in cars.
“I didn’t have a reaction to cars at first. I was anxious when I was in them, but then…after I got back from Paris, I witnessed a pretty bad accident in the city, and something about it…I just couldn’t anymore. I would get these massive panic attacks. So, I stopped riding in cars altogether. I know, logically it’s silly, but no matter how much therapy I’ve done, I haven’t overcome it.” I shrug.
“Thank you for sharing that with me,” she says as she presses a hand to my chest. “Have you ever tried driving?”
