Page 19 of Love Him Like Water

She’d dealt with enough roughness from me for one day.

“Just let me clean you up,” I said, watching the way she shrank into herself, her shoulders coming up by her ears, her chin tucking to her chest.

I couldn’t see her face.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

But when I reached for her knees again, she didn’t fight me as I pulled them apart, spreading her wide for me. Then as gently as I could, running the washcloth over her skin, wiping away traces of my desire, of hers, and the proof of her innocence until she was all clean again.

“Okay,” I said, pressing her thighs back together.

This time, she curled them at an angle at her side, and her whole body followed, curling tightly into herself, making herself smaller.

Making me feel smaller.

I went back into the bathroom, tossing the washcloth into a hamper, taking a minute to try to get my fucking head on straight.

But each thought was playing fucking bumper cars, knocking into one another, sending them all off course.

I could still smell her all over me, a honeyed vanilla scent that had no right to be as fucking intoxicating as it was.

I could taste her in my mouth too, the sweet traces of her desire on my tongue and lips, making my stupid fucking cock start to harden again.

“Christ,” I growled, grabbing the countertop hard enough that I was shocked it didn’t crack under the pressure.

I deep-breathed until my cock calmed back down again before brushing my teeth, yanking yesterday’s pair of pajama pants up my legs, and forcing myself to make my way out of the bathroom.

I turned off the bedroom light, still hearing the sounds of the party a floor below, and made my way toward the bed.

Lore was silent on her side, curled up facing away from me, but with the stiffness of her body, I knew she was still awake.

I didn’t say anything.

I didn’t know what the fuck I could say.

Sorry?

I wasn’t sure she would want to hear that shit from me.

So I climbed in my side of the bed, pulling the covers up from the bottom of the bed in one quick motion, so they flew up over both of us.

I lowered down on the pillows, staring up at the darkened ceiling, wishing I was the kind of man who had the words, who knew what to say, or do.

But that wasn’t me.

That wasn’t the kind of man I was.

So, I just fucking lay there, listening to Lore’s soft breathing, wondering how many ways she was cursing the day she agreed to marry a motherfucker like me.

I was sure she’d fallen asleep.

Until, suddenly, her voice broke the silence in the room.

Small and soft, full of a delicate kind of emotion that I didn’t know well enough to name.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Fuck if those words weren’t a blow straight through my goddamn chest.

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