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Blood rushes in my ears and my chest flutters as his lips move.
“What?”
“I asked you what you were thinking about? You look so serious.” His lips flatten. “Itdoeshurt, doesn’t it?”
“No.” I sit up, warmth spreading in my chest as I reach out and stroke down the side of his face and along his strong jaw. “For the first time in three years, it doesn’t hurt quite so much.”
Then I smile.
His face softens until he’s smiling back. Then he wraps me in his arms and kisses me.
“Let’s take a shower.”
He pulls me up from the bed, walking backward with my hands in his, all the way into the bathroom. We get to the shower, and he lets go of one hand long enough to turn the water on, and then he takes hold of it again, pulling me in under the hot spray with him.
“You going to let me wash you?”
I bite my lip and stand on my toes, kissing him as the water runs down over our mouths. “Only if you let me wash you. I haven’t seen the tattoos on your back yet.”
Dax stiffens, the muscles in his broad shoulders tightening. “Okay. But I’m going first.”
I stand happily, my arms draped over his shoulders as he takes my shower gel and lathers it up between his hands before running them all over my body. He groans as my nipples harden when he washes my breasts, and his cock stiffens against my ass as I look at him over my shoulder while he washes my back. But despite the intensity his eyes have taken on, and the deep groans coming from his chest, he is the perfect gentleman, washing me gently with large, warm hands.
“Now you.”
I take the bottle from him and squirt some into my hands. I’m spoiled for choice where to start. I begin with his thighs and his cock, which is hard and thick as I slide my soapy hand up and down it. Dax sucks in a breath and watches me as I wash it, followed by his balls, but he makes no attempt to put it to use on me again, and I fight back my disappointment as he takes my soapy hands and leads them to his chest instead.
I let the suds rinse off and run my hands over his tattoos again like that night at his house where he was hurt.
“Now turn.”
He stiffens and stares at me.
“Turn around.” I look up and wonder if he’s still breathing. All the muscles in his shoulders and chest are tense, and a vein is throbbing in his neck beneath the bird’s wing. “Dax?”
A muscle in his jaw flexes and then he turns slowly, placing his hands up against the tiled wall so each muscle in his back ripples.
I add more gel to my hands and slide them over his shoulders, soaking in all the tattoos on his back. They’re intricate, like his front. A mix of leaves and flowers surrounding a giant, ornate, central cross. Then on his lower back, to one side of his spine there’s a sun over water, its rays bursting up into the sky.
“Is it a sunrise or a sunset?” I ask as I trace my fingers over it.
“Sunset.” He tenses as I move my fingers lower, over the ripples in the water.
“Dax?”
I run my fingers over the pinched skin again and he stays silent.
“What happened?”
The ripples in the water are distorted where they cover a large scar on Dax’s skin.
“I wasn’t careful. That’s what happened.”
“What do you mean?”
He turns and wraps me in his arms, dipping his head to kiss my neck before he sighs. “I was stabbed. In jail.”
“What?” My blood runs cold as I turn to face him. He catches my lips in a kiss. “What do you mean? Who did this to you?” I ask, breaking our lips apart.
