Page 28 of Deceit

“Let’s go clean you up.”

I shakily nod as I begin walking. He guides me easily, not removing his hand from my back the entire time.

When we are in his office he gestures to the empty seat across from his desk, before he crouches down and begins rifling through a cabinet. In no time he’s pulling out a first aid kit, taking out a few alcohol wipes as he kneels before me.

His large hands tenderly take my own away from my lap, holding them out to him palms up before he speaks.

“This probably won’t feel great.”

He takes the wipe and runs it across my cut. I sink my teeth into my lip as I cringe. God, it’s way deeper than I even thought. How did I not notice until now? How did I not feel how much it stings until now?

“You won’t need stitches,” he says softly, almost to himself.

His strokes are careful, but thorough, as he brushes away chunks of dirt and blood. Eventually it stops hurting, instead of focusing on my hand, I stare at the gentle giant before me.

Not a word is spoken between us as he dutifully cleans my hands, bandaging them up as soon as he’s finished. I move to pull my hands away, but he stops me, tightening his grip as my eyes come to his. Those deep blue eyes staring at me intently, practically pinning me in place.

“What happened?” he asks.

I swallow roughly, before I shake my head and let out a bitter laugh.

“Asher.”

His eyes narrow at me.

“Explain.”

Turning my head away, I shake my head, too tired and honestly too defeated to get into it right now. I just want this night to be over.

He doesn’t seem to accept my silence, holding his gaze on me and seemingly waiting me out. I don’t give in, though and he lets out a rough breath before he stands.

“C’mon. You can shower in the locker room.”

He moves to a cabinet to the side, pulling out a few small bottles and what looks like a shirt and a pair of sweatpants before he walks through his office door. I follow after him as he leads me just outside the locker room, pausing at the entrance as he hands me the mini bottles of shampoo and bodywash, along with a black Gallows Hill shirt and sweats.

“Towels are in there. The door is locked so you don’t have to worry about anyone coming in. Make sure you keep your bandages dry.”

“How am I supposed to do that when washing my hair?” I question.

He rolls his lips together for several seconds, that signature stoic look on his face.

“Do you need me to do it?”

A thrill runs through me, the thought of those strong fingers running through my hair. The warm water running against my skin—

“Clothed, obviously. Your clothes could use a rinse anyways,” he adds.

Disappointment pangs through me, though I don’t know why. It’s not like him washing my hair is going to lead to us sleeping together. He’s not going to strip away my virginity right here and now, nor would I want him to. Right? Right.

I nod. “That would be great. Thank you.”

He dips his head and I slowly make my way inside the locker room. They only have one, probably because there is only a men’s swim team so there is no need for a women’s locker room.

The perimeter of the room is surrounded by lockers, the middle has several benches and a line of showers. I step up to the first one, turning the water on for a moment as I allow it to heat up. Once it’s warm enough, I take a step into the spray, practically melting into the warmth despite the heavy soaked feeling of my sweater and jeans against my skin.

I let the water run through my hair, trying to resist the temptation to run my fingers through it as my makeup begins washing away. God, what is it with Ronan seeing me without makeup? Either bad timing or something more cruel. He’s probably seen me barefaced more in this last week than my father has seen me from puberty up, which I guess isn’t saying much.

He takes a step towards me, squirting a small amount of shampoo into his hands, gesturing for me to turn around. I do as he says, allowing the spray to run down my front as his hands begin lathering my hair. At first, his movements are rough and jerky and I wince as he yanks on my hair. Soon, though, his fingers reach deeper, slowly beginning to massage my scalp. I let out a pleasured groan that has his movements pausing. Damn it. That’s what I get for opening my mouth, I ruin a perfectly good thing.

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