Page 78 of Night Shift

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” Atticus whispered in my ear. Slowly, I woke up, finding myself still wrapped tightly in his arms. His fingers glided up and down my back and shoulder in tender lines.

“Ugh,” I groaned, feeling the soreness between my legs from our untamed, passionate night. “Feels like my girlie bits are on fire.”

Atticus chuckled. “Well, you are young and tender. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

“I might be sore, but you’re the one who passed out the moment your head hit the pillow.”

“Can you blame me?” he asked, grinning. “You wore me out.” He pushed up onto his side and turned to look at me. The furrow between his brows deepened. “How about a long soak in the tub to ease those sore muscles and other—what did you call them—girlie bits?”

Huffing a laugh, I reflexively squeezed my legs together, thinking about all we’d done. “Yes, girlie bits and places I didn’t even know could ache. Oh, and a hot bath sounds heavenly.” I started to pull the sheet off but then hesitated. I glanced down at my naked body, exposed to the light of day, and was suddenly overcome with shyness. “I’m not exactly dressed for company,” I mumbled self-consciously.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, Sam. It’s just me, and I’ve seen everything you’ve got. I probably know your body better than you do.”

Placing a hand over my face, I grinned and shook my head. He was right. After everything he’d done to me, he owned my body, and there would be no going back from that.

When I finally got out of bed, every muscle in my body protested. I still hadn’t fully recovered from the attack in the parking lot, and now I had a fresh set of marks. Of course, I had to admit that I’d fully enjoyed getting these.

Together, we made our way to the bathroom. He started filling the tub for me.

His unexpected tenderness caught me off guard, and I leaned in and kissed him sweetly, whispering, “Thank you” against his lips.

Gingerly I sat on the edge of the tub and watched the water rise. My cautious movements caused Atticus to chuckle. “We may have to wait a day or two before we go at it again.”

He turned to his vanity, picked up a bottle, and held it out. “Did you like my cologne?”

“Ooo, yes…” I replied, remembering the scent but forgetting when I’d smelled it until it was too late and my words were already out.

“Strange,” he mused, raising a suspicious eyebrow. “Because I’ve never worn it around you. How do you know what it smells like?”

“Uh, well…”

“Sam, you’d make a terrible spy. You can’t even cover your tracks,” he said half-jokingly.

“Hey, at least I didn’t touch anything else or let anyone else into your bedroom!” I protested, although that wasn’t entirely true. But now was not the time to mention the little chest I’d taken.

He gave a gentle chuckle, but it wasn’t done in a mocking way. It was more like he found the whole situation amusing. “Out of habit, I always put things in the same place. There aren’t any little chaos creators toddling about, so everything always stays exactly as I left it.” He placed the bottle back on the counter and added, “I noticed it wasn’t in its usual spot. Look, I don’t mind that you were curious, but honesty is important to me. Why did you feel you had to go into my room when I specifically asked you not to and had gone to the trouble of locking my door?”

Desperate to change the subject, I added bubble bath to the tub and turned on the jets, creating a foamy, bubbling commotion. But Atticus wasn’t distracted. Reaching over, he turned my face toward him and prompted me to tell the truth.

“I was curious about you,” I said. “I wanted to know more about the man behind the doctor’s facade. And well, there was a part of me that just wanted to do it because you told me not to. Childish, I guess.”

“Thank you for being honest, but remember, that’s just one more reason for me to spank you.” He winked at me and gave me a quick kiss on the top of my head.

I slipped into the bubble-filled sanctuary, submerging my body in the almost-too-hot water. “Promises, promises,” I shot back, trying to keep the mood light despite the guilt that was churning inside of me for not confessing about the chest. “Hey, can you hand me the loofah?” I asked, stretching my arm out. Atticus reached into the shower and turned to hand it to me but then stopped, taking my arm in his hand.

“Those stitches are more than ready to be removed. How about I take care of that today?” All at once, his features shifted into his doctor’s mask, and he started examining my arm. His brows pulled together, and a strange darkness descended over his face. It was the same expression he’d had when putting in the sutures after the attack. He gently ran his thumb along the skin next to them, lost in thought. Then, squeezing his eyes shut, he leaned over, took my cheek in his hand, and kissed my forehead, lingering against it as he took a deep breath. When he pulled away, I could have sworn his skin had turned ashen.

“I’ll go make us some coffee and breakfast,” he offered quietly, even though it was probably closer to lunchtime. “You soak. Relax. Let me take care of you.”

With a nod, I sank deeper into the bubbles and let out a contented sigh, not wanting to reveal the worry that had crawled up my chest. I wondered if he’d ever be able to trust me enough to share the memory my arm evoked. Whatever was happening between us, I was here for it, prepared to wait patiently for him to open his heart to me.

Stepping out of the shower, I wrapped a towel around my body and another around my head. It had taken me forever to figure out how to work his shower on my own, but eventually I’d been able to wash and condition my hair. The steam curled around me as I wiped away the condensation on the mirror. My hair was a tangled mess, and my face had that just-bathed flush. After a bit of work blow-drying and a touch of makeup, I almost looked like my world hadn’t been turned upside down. Dressed in a towel, I headed to the guest room, still marveling at how quickly my life had shifted since I’d moved to Tacoma.

When I stepped into the room, I noticed a box wrapped in a bow sitting on the bed. Curious, I picked it up and opened it to find a lululemon outfit—a dark heather long-sleeve top and black leggings. The size was spot on. I was stunned. The thoughtfulness, the extravagance—it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Eagerly I slipped into the outfit, admiring the way it fit me like a glove. The leggings sculpted my legs and, yes, made my butt look amazing.

I headed downstairs, following the mouthwatering scent wafting through the air. My stomach growled as I walked into the kitchen to find Atticus hovering over a beautifully prepared breakfast of waffles, homemade whipped cream, strawberries, scrambled eggs, and bacon.

“You went all out,” I said.

---