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I rubbed at the back of his neck. “Oh, well they said that we need to keep your cut as sterile as possible, but I think we should wash the blood out of your hair. I think it’ll be easier to work the shampoo around the cut if I hand wash it.”
He chewed on his lip as we waited for the tub to finish filling with water. The tension between us grew taut, and in an effort to avoid any more silence, I let a giggle burst from my throat. Dom cocked his head.
“This is awkward.” I laughed again.
“It’s not awkward. You’re concussed. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He kept his voice nonchalant, but his mouth tilted up into that crooked smile that was beginning to grow on me.
“Just like my concussion prevents you from using any part of this,” I waved my hands around the bathroom, “to try and get in my pants.”
He bent down to turn the faucet off. I took a moment to admire his backside. “We’ve already established that I don’t have to try this hard to get in your pants.” He stood up straight and shot me a devilish grin.
I frowned. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
He beckoned me forward, and in—what I told myself was—-pure desperation to get this bath over with and get to bed, I listened. Dom held onto my arm as I lifted my leg and stepped inside the steaming water.
It was perfect temperature. Somehow, he must’ve known that I enjoyed my baths blazing hot. The water was scalding as I dipped both feet in and sank down inside of it. Once I was fully settled, Dom stepped back from the tub and pulled his own t-shirt over his head, giving me an unobstructed view of his toned, Michael Angelo sculpted chest.
It was honestly ridiculous, the way his muscles flexed with the movement of his arms. How his skin was absolutely flawless, and he had just the faintest dusting of hair that ran from his chest, down his stomach, and beneath his jeans.
The jeans his hands were now unbuckling, dipping into the waistband of, and pushing down his muscular legs. He stepped out of them and stood in front of me in nothing but his underwear. My tongue may have gotten stuck to the roof of my mouth as I took in the sight of his body, and my breathing grew labored.
“Wow. Bubble bath and a show.”
Oh my God. I didnotjust say that out loud.
As if he’d heard that thought too, he said, “It’s fine. You’re concussed.”
I dropped my head and snorted before we both let out a laugh. As I raised my gaze to look at him again, I noticed that he’d grabbed a small towel and ran it beneath the sink until it was wet. He stepped over to me and lightly placed his hands on my back (and I tried to ignore the way my skin got warm at the contact), pushing me forward gently.
There was a bench in my shower behind the tub. Dom sat down on it, putting his legs in the water on either side of my body. “What’re you doing?” I asked.
He didn’t respond, and instead ran his fingers softly along the back of my neck, sending chills down my spine. I felt his fingers twist into my hair and lift it. “Is this okay?” he whispered.
His mouth was close to my ear, his voice rough as it caressed my skin. I bit back a moan as I nodded. I hissed at the coldness of the damp washcloth as he brushed it against my nape and around my hairline. He was careful and slow, ensuring he didn’t touch the cut on the top of my head. I tensed any time he came close.
“I promise I’m not going to hurt you. Just relax into me.”
I knew I shouldn’t feel relaxed. The whole situation—the whole day—should’ve been painful, uncomfortable, and awkward. Yet, somehow, Dom had nearly obliterated any sense of that. Any time I thought about the incident– the dread that washed over me when I thought back to the smack of my head on the lamp and the gasp of the entire bar, the way my vision went black, the pity in the eyes of everyone around me when I woke up, my chest would tighten and I would feel the need to cry.
But when Dom’s hands ran across my skin again, those thoughts seemed to dissipate, until it was only his touch—the sound of his breath—that existed to me.
“Can you tell me what really happened, Mace?” he asked softly. “You said something in the hospital. Something about how you were being stupid. That this happened because you got too excited? What did you mean by that?”
My jaw tightened. I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to think about it. I only wanted to feel his body against mine. I wanted to be enveloped by his presence.
“I don’t want to–”
His hand paused, and then removed itself from my skin. He set the washcloth down next to him and braced his arms on the bench as if he was about to get up. I think he may have been done cleaning the blood off me, and the area around my cut. I wasn’t ready to be done yet, though. I wasn’t ready for him to walk away. I quickly reached up and placed my hand on top of his, as if to stop him.
I cleared my throat. “It was aTwilightthemed trivia night at my favorite bar. Carter, Penelope, and I normally go every week. It’s Penny and I’s thing. I haven’t been going since they’ve been out of town but when I found out it wasTwilightthemed, I begged my coworker, Juan, and his husband to go with me. I loveTwilight.”
“Understandable,” he chimed.
I let a small laugh escape me. “We won, and I just got really excited because we rarely win trivia, and I’m like…super competitive.”
“I’ve noticed.”
