Page 30 of Secured By the Buyer

As Liam runs water to heat, I raise my voice, “I would’ve thought you’d have a jacuzzi or something.”

“If I want a hot tub, I go down to the pool.” He tests the temperature before adjusting it. “Baths are for relaxing.”

“Are you going to light some candles, too?” I snark.

He throws a smirk over his shoulder. “I’m not giving you access to fire, but if you ask nicely, I’ll add bubbles.”

Not wanting to sit in the tub with all my bits on display, I bare my teeth in an approximation of a smile. “May I please have bubbles?”

“Yes, you may.” Liam reaches for a glass decanter and pours its contents into the steaming water.

The scent of lavender fills the room as the suds form and grow.

When he moves the decanter out of my reach from the tub, I snort. “What do you think I’m going to do with that?”

“I’m not sure,” he admits, “but you were creative with the breakfast tray, so I’m not taking any chances.”

I jut out my chin. “I’m not apologizing for forking you.”

“Didn’t expect you to.”

Once the bathtub is full, Liam shuts off the faucet and walks over to me, lifting me into his arms as if I weigh nothing.

Crossing the short distance to the tub, he sets me down and moves to untie the binds on my torso. “No funny business.”

The second the constrictions ease, I hurriedly strip off my pajamas and scramble into the bath, suds sloshing over the edge in my haste. The heat of the water envelops me, and I hiss at the sudden contrast to my cold skin. Bubbles tickle my chest, making me shiver despite the warmth.

Liam remains silent, watching me with an unreadable expression.

“Are you done staring?” I snap, growing uncomfortable under his attention.

“Almost.” Liam places a stool behind my back.

I twist around to glare at him. “What are you doing?”

He lifts the showerhead from the wall bracket. “I’m going to wash your hair.”

“I can do it myself.” When he arches an eyebrow in challenge, I huff and turn my back to him oncemore. “I doubt I’d be strong enough to strangle you with the cord.”

“Probably not. It takes a lot to kill a person like that, and you have a delicate frame.” Liam finger combs my tangled mess before he directs, “Close your eyes and tip your head back.”

I comply, and warm water cascades down my head. Liam massages lavender shampoo into my scalp, lulling me into a state of relaxation I haven’t experienced in ages.

My muscles relax, and I let out a soft sigh, allowing myself—just for a moment—to forget the precarious situation I’m in.

I’ve never had someone wash my hair like this, not that I can remember, at least. Maybe my mom did when I was a baby, but those memories are long gone, buried beneath years of hunger, fighting, and disappointment.

“Does it feel good?” Liam’s low rumble vibrates through me.

“None of your business,” I mumble, unwilling to admit how much I enjoy this small act of tenderness.

Chuckling, he continues his ministrations, and as the water rinses away the shampoo, it carries away the grime from the auction block, too.

Next, he adds conditioner before working a comb through my hair, removing the last of the tangles.

As he lets it sit, he massages my temples and the base of my skull, easing whatever tension remains. “Do you have someone I should contact who might be worried about you? Your mother or father, perhaps?”

I stiffen at the words, straightening in the bathtub. “My father would be very surprised to hear from me, considering he’s the one who sold me to save his own ass.”

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