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“What are you doing?” Molly gives me a hesitant look but relaxes in my embrace.
“Just let me take care of you, okay?”
“Okay.” She hides her face in the crook of my neck.
“Damien would never let Serienna walk back to camp after being injured.”
Her eyes find mine again. “Well, in that case, thank you for my rescue.”
“You got it, little warrior.”
Molly slowly runs her bruised hand across my chest, trailing through the hair there. A smile breaks through her teary face.
There she is.
Chapter17
Molly
My hair isn’t eventhat dirty.
I shiver and sneeze again. Who am I kidding. There’s probably a pound of dust, hay, and maybe even tiny bugs making a home between my curls.
Okay, no, I can’t skip a shower, but my hand is about as useful as a piece of overcooked spaghetti.
There’s no way I’ll be able to unzip my dress and wash my hair…alone. I eye the bathroom door, peeking beneath the crack at the bottom.
Matthew’s footsteps pace outside.
I got to kiss him again! A giggle slips out of me, and my good hand flies to my mouth to stifle it. As much as my knuckles still ache, I’m thankful for being klutzy for the first time in my life. It’s as if all those years of needless bumps and bruises finally amounted to something useful.
Matthew carried me, actually carried me, and he got allwho hurt you. The reaction almost made me want to slam my other hand in the horse stall door and walk around with blown-up pasta fingers for the rest of our trip.
I’m still giddy. Over-the-moon giddy. No, better—I’m flying-on-the-back-of-a-griffin giddy.
When we got back to our suite, Matthew gave me a glass of water, an anti-inflammatory, and an antihistamine before I locked myself in our bathroom, insisting I was fine. But, really, I’ve never been cared for with such affection.
I want more of it.
More.
Matthew could’ve stripped me out of my sundress and ravaged me right beside the horses, hay allergy and all. Or, better yet, in the canyons.
I’ve never wanted to endure the embarrassment of indecent exposure until today. Is that what falling in love means? Risking it all just to run your hands through a man’s chest hair?
Wait,love?
No, it must be lust. A feeling I’m not acquainted with. But being kissed for that long was my deepest fantasy come to life.
I can’t help but recall his promise to take his time with me—well, with someone—when we participated in the Yearning Yoga activity.
Could Matthew take me to that place I’ve never been with anyone else?
Oh boy.
I turn on the faucet, filling up the spacious soaking tub, which is big enough for two people. I eye the showerhead, then the door again.
“Are you sure I can’t help you?” Matthew asks. It’s as if he has x-ray vision, or he can read my mind from the other room.
