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“Is Luca your enemy?” I peek into the bathroom, my eyes focusing on the claw-foot tub that’s just calling to me.
“Well, he’s not exactly a friend.”
I begin to undress, tossing the coat onto a nearby chair and the gown in the trash bin. “Carina seemed friendly.”
“That’s because she wants something from me. It’s called cunning.”
“The alliance?” I ask, recalling the word he used.
He nods. “Gideon Black’s father was killed years ago by a group of men. Now he’s out for revenge, and some of the families in power have come together to fight him.”
“Is he after you?” Though I know the answer—I can put two and two together—I want confirmation. Was Clive one of the men who killed Gideon’s father?
“He’s after my father,” Arran replies.
“Why don’t you join the alliance, then? It would make sense.”
“I don’t want anyone telling me what to do. Especially not those two.” He points in the direction of where Luca and Carina’s room is.
“If you dislike them so much, why did we come here? Frank said your father’s house is also secure.”
His eyes narrow as he stares at me, and I can see the battle inside him. Like the reason he’d rather be here than in his own family home is significant, and he wants to tell me. But it would let me in and I’d see whatever he wants to keep hidden.
Instead, he asks, “How’s your head?”
I touch the spot that made contact with the pavement. “A bit sore but much better.”
He stands and takes off his clothes, effectively distracting me from whatever it was that I’d asked before. “We’re filthy. Let’s take a shower.”
Walking past me, he goes into the bathroom, straight for the tub. He slides the white curtain over and turns on the jets. In no time, steam is swirling through the room.
“Come,” he says, motioning me over. I get in, and he steps in behind me. Tenderly, he washes my hair.
“You can scrub harder,” I tell him. “It doesn’t really hurt anymore.”
“First thing tomorrow, I’m calling the doctor. I want you checked out.”
“Do I have a say?”
“No.”
Rolling my eyes, I sigh but don’t argue. Especially not when the way he washes me is a balm, soothing away the troubles of the day. His fingers dig just deep enough into the sore muscles of my shoulders and back.
When his large hands come around and cup my breasts, I let my head drop against his chest. God, it feels so good to be bathed by him. Calming and arousing at the same time.
It must be the same for him, because his cock slowly makes its presence known, poking big and hard between my legs.
But he doesn’t make an effort to penetrate. Simply keeps on rubbing me, putting me in a hypnotic spell. Getting me wetter by the second as his fingers kneed and pinch my nipples, but I’m so sleepy, all I can do is enjoy the ride.
He drops a hand to clean between my legs, his deft fingers sliding into the folds of my pussy as the head of his cock gently strokes over the entrance.
All too soon, the shower is over, and he’s helping me out of the tub. After drying me with a fluffy towel, he wraps it over my shoulders and guides me to the bed.
“Lie down,” he instructs.
“Aren’t you tired?” I ask.
“Yes, but I want to come. And I told you that once I fucked you, there would only be one place I’d ever do that again.”
