Page 24 of Need Him Like Oxygen

“Definitely not,” he said, his voice a bit deeper than usual, making another shiver move through me, this time on the inside. “Not done,” he said when I started to move away.

“It’s clean,” I insisted, knowing I needed to put some space between us as quickly as possible.

“Right. You’re gonna tell me you got all this hair and you don’t use a conditioner?”

“It’s fine.”

“If you want to be cursing me out in pain as I rake a brush through your tangled hair, then sure.”

“You’re not brushing my hair.”

“Okay,” he agreed.

“Okay?” I asked, squinting at him.

“Yeah. Should I set up the appointment at the salon now for when, two weeks from now, your hair is so knotty you have to cut it all off?”

“You’re annoying.”

“Because I’m right,” he shot back.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I said, but I stepped back, letting him slather on the conditioner before rinsing it off.

He cut the water, then carefully squeezed as much water out of my hair as possible.

Just when I thought he was finally going to step away, was going to give me a chance to breathe and get myself together again, though, his hand slid downward, teasing over my ribs, sending another jolt of need through me.

“This looks so much worse,” he said, his voice a velvet caress over my skin as his fingers traced the bruises.

“It feels about the same,” I admitted, glancing down to watch his fingers move over my skin.

And not at all thinking about how easily they could just slip inward and down a bit more and…

“You want me to re-wrap them?” he asked.

“Yeah. I didn’t realize how much that was helping until I took the wraps off.”

“And what about drying off?”

“What about it?” I asked, body tensing, knowing where this was going. And not knowing if I was strong enough to turn the offer down.

“Why don’t you try to reach for your legs?” he suggested.

“Fuck,” I whimpered, arm shooting out to grab him as the pain ricocheted up my side as soon as I even attempted to bend. “Okay,” I said, gasping for breath as the pain kept washing over me. “Yeah.”

“Was the insistence on doing everything the hard way something that came preprogrammed, or did you add that in along the way?” he teased as he reached for a towel, carefully drying my hair enough that it wouldn’t drip all down me, before starting to rub the towel over my shoulders.

It wasn’t until he draped the towel over my whole front, and his hands were moving over my chest that I realized that the arm I’d reached out to grab him with was the one I’d had draped over my breasts.

Leaving me completely exposed.

Before I could fully come to terms with that, though, his hands were moving over the towel, covering my breasts, then sliding under.

Drying, sure, that was all he was doing.

But my body didn’t seem to get the memo as the need clawed at my core, making me press my thighs together to ease the ache.

The sensation was gone too soon, though, and the disappointment was palpable as he moved the towel down my stomach instead.

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