Page 56 of Burn

“Good to know. If you’re going to shower, let me grab you some water and a couple of pain relievers. Best to get them into your system. Go ahead and have a seat,” he waved me toward the closed toilet.

The idea of getting the skin crawling sensation off of me was worth some discomfort. The seat was cold and sent a jolt through my system. At least it was distracting from the pain between my shoulder blades even if it couldn’t touch the worry or the pain in my heart.

Voodoo didn’t keep me waiting. He walked back into the bathroom with some clothes in one hand, a water bottle, and a pill bottle. He set them all on the counter next to the sink before he handed me a protein bar. “Eat that, drink the water, then take the meds.”

It was flavorless, tasteless, and had the consistency of cardboard. Arguing about it wasn’t really worth it. Methodically, I chewed each bite and then washed it down with the water. While I worked my way through it, Voodoo turned on the shower.

“How hot do you like it?”

“Scalding,” I admitted. “But that’s not good for my hair and I’m assuming the wound on my back.” The doctor had done his best to minimize scarring. He wasn’t a plastic surgeon though. Now, Voodoo had to reseal it. Was I going to have a scar there?

Maybe I could get a tattoo over it. I could hide it, disguise it—something. What I couldn’t paper over was my sister. If she were here right now, she would probably give me hell for being melodramatic.

I would so love to hear her teasing me right now. Just anything…

“Firecracker?” Voodoo snared my attention with the quiet emphasis on my nickname. I blinked to look up at him. He’d stripped off his shirt and had the belt on his pants was open. There was a gun visible on his hip and a knife in a sheath as well.

The broadness of his shoulders seemed to increase without his clothes. The light brown of his skin extended to his chest and across his abdomen. It was a deep, unbroken tan. Or maybe it was his skin tone.

At six foot plus, he seemed to fill the whole bathroom. Somehow his shirt had blunted his attractiveness, fuck knew how, because he was beautiful, cut, and toned everywhere. Well, there were some scars and a tattoo but I forced my eyes upward. Ogling him was hardly polite. The faint smile on his lips deepened.

“You can look if it helps,” he said, then motioned to my shirt. “Can you get out of that?”

“Yes, sorry.” I rose slowly, my legs weren’t the steadiest. The whole world seemed to be weighing on me. I tugged the shirt off slowly, pulling my arms in and then trying to tug it up and over without stretching my arms.

Voodoo didn’t say anything as I tugged it over my head. I was panting a little when I was free of it. He removed his gun and set it up on a high shelf next to the shower right on the extra towels stored up there.

His knife was gone, but I didn’t see where it went. His jeans went next and the cut muscle he had on his chest extended down his thighs. Apparently, he went commando too or he’d taken his briefs with the jeans. His dick was right there and impressive, considering he wasn’t hard at the moment.

I tried to reach behind me for the bra clip and winced. “Okay, maybe I need a little help with this.”

Twirling his finger, he indicated I should turn. Facing the mirror, I couldn’t miss the way he studied me as he undid thebra. Then he hooked his fingers into the sides of my panties and tugged them down where he waited until I stepped out of them.

The heat rolling off him chased away the chill. Voodoo rose, panties in hand and he set them on the shirt I’d taken off. I dropped my bra on it while meeting his gaze in the mirror. He was over a full head taller than me. I was hardly blocking my own view of him.

“Still with me?” His voice might have held some humor, but his nearly black eyes were intense and sober.

“Yes,” I said, then turned to look up at him. There was something unnerving about staring at him in a mirror. “Are you married?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Not wearing a ring, Firecracker.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. Lots of married guys don’t bother. I know more than a few married women who don’t either.”

“Ah,” he said, then gave me a gentle nudge toward the shower. “You’re starting to shiver.”

I was? I glanced at my hand when I braced it against the tile wall before I stepped over the edge of the tub and into the shower. The bottom of the tub was toasty where the warm water had heated it up and the water splashing against me was so damn welcome.

Showering before had helped. That shower felt like a million years ago. And all I wanted to do was scrub away any reminders of the past few days. Turning my face into the water, I let it stream over me and soak down my hair.

If only I could wash away the memories with the same ease. The throb between my shoulders beat away sullenly like an angry bruise.

I listed a little, leaning to the side as the water kept beating on my face. Light hands rested on my hips and kept me upright.The contact reminded me that there was a naked man in the shower with me and I’d asked him for help.

Stepping back, I brushed against him but he didn’t retreat. “I’m not married,” he said, answering the earlier question. “Not dating currently. Haven’t in about seven or eight months. Last woman I went out with was a waitress at a country club. We saw each other for about two weeks, had a good time and then I had to move on.”

Huh. I glanced around the shower and then reached for the pumps of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash fixed to the wall. I kind of hated when hotels did that, but I also understood the whys behind it.

“Did you miss her?” When I raised my hands to my hair, however, I couldn’t quite reach my hair. The intensity of the pain between my shoulders had me dropping my arms immediately. Frustration welled up and tears burned in my eyes.

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