Page 86 of The Perfect Love

Once her hair is wet, I trail my fingers through it, then grab her shampoo. “Can I?”

She looks at me over her shoulder with big eyes. “Yes.”

I squirt some into my hand, then work it into a lather and slowly work it into her hair, making sure to get everywhere, then I spend a little extra time at the roots and massage her scalp.

She lets out a happy noise, and I keep working my fingers.

“You’re safe,” I whisper. “You can be naked with me anytime and I will never touch you in any way you don’t want. If you let me, though, I’ll take care of you. Naked. Clothed. However you want me. However you’ll let me, I’ll make sure you’re cared for in every way.”

She lets out a shuddery breath, and when my hands drop, she spins around, eyes closed, like she doesn’t want to break the spell yet, and rinses her hair. Then she turns back around.

“There’s conditioner too. Use plenty.”

With those words, she’s given me another sliver of trust.

I work the conditioner in, making sure I get every strand, and when I’m finished and she’s rinsed it all out, her gaze finds mine, eyes rimmed with tears. I almost worry until she leans into me, resting her head on my chest.

“Thank you.”

I wrap my arms around her. “You don’t ever need to thank me for caring about you, and I hope one day you’ll know deep in your bones that you never need to thank me for anything like this.”

She leans up and presses her lips to mine. “Stay with me tonight?” She looks down at our naked bodies and laughs. “Fully clothed?”

“I’d love to.”

We both still have wet hair and shower-warm skin when we settle into her bed. I always keep an extra set of clothes in my car—a habit my mother drilled into me after our car broke down out of town once—so I’m comfortable in sweats and a T-shirt. I might sweat my balls off tonight, but I’ll do anything that makes her feel safe.

“Still good?” I ask as Chelsea pulls the sheets up. She’s wearing pink pajama bottoms with pictures of iconic women—Rosie the Riveter, RBG, Frida Kahlo, and some others—and a black tank top.

“Yep. The only weird thing is… I can’t remember ever really sharing a bed with anyone. So sorry if you catch an elbow in the middle of the night.”

“Violent sleeper?”

She shrugs, smiling. “Guess we’ll find out.”

“Guess so.”

She flicks her lamp off and slides down in bed, turning toward me.

“When was the last time you…shared a bedwith someone?”

My brows flick up.

“Sorry. It’s the only thing we didn’t talk about tonight, and I’d rather get it out of the way before we’re in a heated moment.”

“You don’t need to apologize. Last time I only shared a bed with someone was probably after my accident. Hyla slept in bed with me for a couple of nights when I first came home and was struggling to move. So, not exactly anything fun. As for the sexual stuff… it’s been a while.”

“Yeah?”

“Before my accident.”

“Wow. Really?”

I turn to face her. “Yes. Why is that surprising?”

“Because you’re hot as fuck.”

That gets a laugh out of me. I lean over and kiss her. “While I appreciate that, so are you…”

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