Page 108 of Burn the Wild

It feels like some kind of magic.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

When I stand, a wave of dizziness hits me. No surprise, really. I haven’t eaten in three days. I always feel so weak after the black hole gets me. I tuned out the world and now I have to fight my way back.

But Ford is already out of bed and picking me up in his arms. He carries me to the bathroom and sets me on my feet.

While I pee, I hear the sound of running water. When I return, Ford has the bathtub going. “What are you doing?”

“Running you a bath.” His voice drops an octave. “I don’t want you standing in the shower. Not until you eat something.”

He helps me undress, tossing my dirty clothes into a pile in the corner. His eyes briefly graze my naked body before testing the water and shutting off the faucet.

I step forward, waving off the hand he offers me. “I can do it—” A fresh wave of dizziness hits me, and I press my palm against his hard chest to steady myself.

He looks down at me with amusement, but also with patience. “I think you need to shut that pretty little mouth of yours and let me take care of you.”

I’m too shocked to argue when Ford strips off his jeans and climbs into the tub. All I do is stare at him.

He gives me a grin, holding out his hand. “Get in the tub, Reese.”

This time, I take his hand. He helps me in and settles me in his lap, both of us submerged beneath the water. I feel his hardness pressing against me, but it’s par for the course. “Turned on, Country Boy?”

He kisses my brow. “Still a brat,” he murmurs, and we both laugh.

Ford dips a washcloth in the water. Runs it over my throat, the curve of my shoulder.

“Lie back.”

“What?”

There’s a smile in his voice. “I’m going to wash your hair, Birdie.”

My eyes widen and then I comply. Once my hair is wet, I rest my head on his chest, reveling in the connection.

I hear the crack of the shampoo lid. Then, gently, Ford lathers the shampoo over my scalp. His hands are warm and soft and strong. I whimper at the sensation. It feels so damned good.

He runs his thumbs down my spine. “Feel good?”

I tip my head back. “Mm-hmm.”

It’s overwhelming. How incredibly cared for I feel right now. Ford doesn’t have to do this, but he stayed all night. For me.

His lips touch my temple. I relax even further, absorbing his touch, our connection.

The string arches between us, tugging in my stomach. A funny feeling I ache to forget. Wish it to disappear. Because it means too much. And it can’t mean a damn thing.

I stare at the bangles on my wrists, glittering gold beneath the water. At times, they feel like shackles. But not now. Not today.

In this bath with Ford, I’m free. I’m not Reese Austin, country superstar sensation who shakes her ass on stage. I’m Reese, agirl from Georgia who used to live on a peach farm. The real me. Even if it’s raw and ugly.

Maybe that’s why I ran. To show myself to someone who sees me.

Someone who is safe.

His breath hitches as his hands weave in and out of my hair. Taking his time, he massages my scalp, and I close my eyes, reveling in the intimate way his fingers explore. The sensation is wondrous. Better than sex.

Ford shifts me against him. His heartbeat matches mine. A steady beat of happiness.

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