“What?” I ask, my eyes popping open and landing on him, still frozen just inside the doorway.
His throat bobs as he swallows hard, his gaze lingering on my bare shoulders and the strands of inky black hair floating on top of the water around me. “You just look so… small.”
“Well this tub was obviously built for a giant,” I snort, coasting my fingertips over the surface of the water.
When I look up at him again, I can see a flicker of indecision in his eyes- and while that comment wasn’t an invitation, I don’t protest when his fingers curl around the hem of his sweatshirt, tugging it off to reveal all of that tanned, toned, mouthwatering muscle underneath.
Damn, boy.
Wordlessly, Chase crosses the room to the tub, kicking off his jeans and boxers. I avert my eyes, dragging my fingertips along the surface of the water, watching the way it ripples as my heart threatens to leap out of my chest. It skips a beat when he steps over the rim of the tub and sinks into the water behind me, sending it spilling over the edges, splashing loudly onto the tile floor below.
His long legs slide in on either side of my body and he settles back into the curved edge of the tub, exhaling a shaky breath. My own breath hitches when I feel his strong arm wind around my waist, tugging me back to rest against his chest, sending more water splashing onto the floor.
“Is this okay?” he murmurs into my ear, and despite the warmth of the water, a shiver runs through me.
I press my lips together tightly, nodding my head. Afraid that if I allow myself to speak, I’ll ruin this moment with a sarcastic comment or smartass remark or some other form of self-sabotage. It’s like a fragile truce has settled between us, a temporary cease-fire that I’m not prepared to let expire just yet. I can feel the rise and fall of his chest against my back, the thump of his heartbeat against my body. Sure and steady, just like him. Strong. Solid. Safe.
“I think your friend Nessa hates me,” Chase grumbles, combing his fingers through the silky strands of my wet hair underneath the water.
I smile, relaxing back into him. “She’s just protective.”
“Yeah, I picked up on that,” he muses, and I can hear the smile on his lips. “Here, lay back.” He shifts me in his arms, tipping me backward.
“What are you doing?” I shriek, grasping onto the slippery porcelain edges of the tub.
A chuckle rumbles from his chest. “Relax, babe.” He tips me back just far enough to dip my hair underwater, righting me again and pulling me back in. Holy shit, is he about to…?
I hear the pop of the cap on the shampoo, confirming my suspicion. Chase Walker is about to wash my hair. Is this real life? Somebody pinch me.
A sigh slips from my throat as his fingers sink into my scalp, massaging the shampoo into suds as my eyes slide closed. “Mmm…”
“That feel good?” Chase murmurs, and I nod my head, my body relaxing back into his as he continues kneading my scalp with his deft fingers. The stress of the past few days melts away under his touch, and for once, I get out of my fucking head and just lose myself in the moment.
“My mom ran out on me when I was a kid,” Chase mutters, and my eyes fly open. He continues rubbing the shampoo into my hair, his throat clicking with an audible swallow. “She didn’t want me. I kept hoping that she might come back someday, so my dad told me she died. Tried to soften the blow, I guess.”
I suck in a breath, turning to look at him over my shoulder, but he’s pushing me forward again, dipping my head down into the water to rinse the shampoo from my hair. I stare up at him as I tip my head back, watching as he focuses on rinsing the suds away, avoiding my eyes. Then he’s lifting me back up, pulling me tightly against his chest before I can steal another glance.
“She wasn’t dead, though,” he growls, holding me tight with one arm while he reaches for a washcloth with the other, dipping it underwater. “She just didn’t want us. She joined the shadow pack, and she was the one who killed my dad. I watched her die, but she’d already been dead to me for a long time.”
I suck in a breath, shifting in his arms so I can look up at him. “Chase, I’m so…”
“I know,” he grumbles. “Everyone is. That’s not why I’m telling you, though. It’s because I heard what Nessa said about your mom, and it made me realize that we don’t really know much about each other.” His eyes drop to mine, his tongue snaking out to wet his lips. “I want to, though.”
I blow out a breath, turning my head and resting it upon his shoulder again. Behind me, he squirts some lavender smelling soap onto the washcloth, rubbing it together until it foams.
“I didn’t take you as a lavender guy,” I tease, my body going slack in his arms as he drags the cloth over the curve of my collarbone.
“I’m not,” he replies bluntly, gently rubbing the cloth over my skin. “I’ve actually never taken a bath in here. I don’t even know who stocked this shit, probably the housekeepers. If it were my choice, I’d go with something different. Maybe… roses.”
“Really?” I snort, craning my neck to peer up at him. “You’d wanna walk around smelling like flowers?”
“I’d smell like you,” he muses, lifting the cloth to my temple, washing away the dried blood.
I scrunch my nose, narrowing my eyes on him. “You think I smell like roses?”
He nods, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “That, and raspberries, yeah.”
“Hm,” I muse, reclining my head back against his shoulder again. He continues washing me, almost methodically, as we slip into a comfortable silence. My mind combs over his admission about his mother, and for the first time, I feel compelled to bare a little piece of my soul in return; to reveal my own damage to the damaged boy who I’m just now realizing holds more pieces of me than anybody else ever has.