Page 34 of In His Veins

Cal guides me into his bathroom, my jaw dropping open when I see the shower. It could easily fit five people and has a stone bench built into the side with two massive shower heads. I have never been so excited for a shower in my life. He smirks at my expression and holds the door open for me, offering his other hand for me to use as balance, as if I’ll slip walking over the threshold. I do take his hand, and such casual contact is thrilling in its own way.

He follows after me, washcloth in hand. The glass door reverberates in its frame as it closes. I start to reach for his bottle of soap, but Cal stops me. I turn toward him, and he gives me a little smile.

“Let me take care of you,” he says. I have no clue what he means, but I nod anyway. He reaches over my head, grabbing the detachable shower head, and methodically rinses me off. Lathering an orange bar of soap into the washcloth, he gently scrubs at the fresh lacerations.

“It’s an antibacterial soap, so it will help with the healing process,” he explains. I feel a flash of jealousy that I can’t conceal from my voice.

“And you keep it on hand for moments like these?” He pauses with the washcloth on my belly, dark blue eyes flicking to mine.

“I get injured with some frequency in my line of work. What we did tonight,” his throat bobs as he swallows. “that is not something I do casually.” I nod my head but give no other response. He must sense my uncertainty because he drops the washcloth and grabs me by the shoulders.

“There’s no one else, Ava. I belong to you just as much as you belong to me.” His voice is serious, and my core heats at the intensity of his gaze.

“Does that mean you’ll let me peg you?” He barks out a laugh and steps back.

“Do you want to?” He asks, his tone curious. I look him up and down.

“I think our height difference might pose some difficulties.” He’s nearly a foot and a half taller than me. He looks at me in consideration.

“You’re right. There’s too many odds stacked against us.” Cal reaches for the detachable shower head again and begins rinsing the soap from my skin.

“Wait a minute.” I grab his arm and he stops rinsing me. “So, you’d be into it?” He snorts, pulling free.

“Absolutely not.” I run my hands through his damp hair, and watch in

amazement as his dick gets hard. He doesn’t acknowledge it or pause in his task.

“I’m disappointed. You were so cool for like two seconds.”

“Sorry to disappoint, sweetheart,” he murmurs as he soaks my hair. His brows furrow as he concentrates on not splashing my face. He squirts a generous amount of shampoo into his hands and rubs them together, before massaging the product into my scalp.

“I’ll get you your own shampoo and conditioner for next time.” He rinses my hair again before grabbing the conditioner.

“Next time?” I ask, intending it as a joke. He halts, conditioner momentarily forgotten. His voice is severe when he responds.

“Yes, next time. As in tomorrow night, and the night after that, and as far as I’m concerned, every night going forward.” I frown as his intentions sink in.

“What about my apartment? I like my apartment.” His expression softens.

“We can stay at your apartment. I don’t really care where we’re at, but I’ve

had too many sleepless nights and can’t go any longer without sharing a bed with you.” Cal’s confession sobers and thrills me simultaneously.

“Deal,” I whisper, standing on my tiptoes to kiss him. His lips linger for a

moment before he finishes washing my hair. I stand under the hot water and watch as he washes himself. His abdomen and chest are contoured from years of constant work in the gym. Tattoos cover his skin, but I can’t focus on any one of them for very long because my eyes keep gravitating to the jagged wound on his stomach.

“I am sorry for that,” I say, gesturing to his torso. He glances down at it, then back at me.

“Don’t be.” He grins. “I deserved it, and it was a clever move. Although you

should have run immediately after.” I shrug as he turns off the water. He steps out of the shower first and wraps a towel around his waist before holding one out to me. He wraps it around me as I walk onto the cold tile floor. I pat myself dry, but my cuts are still weeping. Cal inspects them then wraps me back into my towel.

“I’ll take care of those in a minute. Let me go change the sheets first. There should be an extra toothbrush under the sink.” He leaves me then, and I feel surprisingly comfortable here. I peer into his cabinets, hoping to find some exciting secret, but only find an extra toothbrush, bars of unopened antibacterial soap, and folded washcloths.

I hear rustling blankets in the other room as I brush my teeth. Cal comes in a few moments later and brushes his teeth as well. It’s an odd thing, watching my stalker brush his teeth. I stare at his reflection in the mirror, and it suddenly hits me that this is Callum Drake, my brothers’ best friend. His eyes meet mine in the mirror.

“What’s your middle name?” I ask, suddenly desperate to know him.

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