Page 69 of Jolt's Vengeance

I roll off him and collapse against his side, my head resting on his chest.

He strokes my hair soothingly as we both catch our breath.

"That, Ghost," he pants, "was one hell of a wake-up call."

I smirk and slide off the bed, sauntering toward Jolt's ensuite bathroom.

The cool air against my naked skin sends a delightful shiver down my spine.

Jolt calls out, his voice still husky from sleep. "Where you goin', darlin'?"

I glance over my shoulder, catching his deep green eyes roaming appreciatively over my body.

I’m about to answer when he cuts me off.

"Wait!" he exclaims, sitting up abruptly. "I don't wanna know if you're takin' a shit."

I roll my eyes, unable to suppress a laugh.

"You're such a child, Jolt. I'm getting in the shower." I pause at the bathroom doorway, arching an eyebrow. "Care to join me?"

His face lights up with that infectious grin of his. "Darlin', you don't have to ask me twice!"

I step into the bathroom, my heart racing from what we just did.

As I hear Jolt scrambling out of bed behind me, I can't help but be surprised at how quickly this man has wormed his way under my skin.

I turn on the water and surprisingly it shoots out hot.

Back in Montana, we always have to give it a few seconds to warm up.

I waste no time sliding in, allowing the hot water to cascade over me.

Jolt steps into the shower behind me, his strong arms encircling my waist. “This is fuckin’ depths of Hell hot, Ghost.”

I lean back against his chest, relishing the feel of his skin against mine. “It’s what I like, so, if yer showerin’ with me you can tolerate it.”

Jolt chuckles, before his tone shifts. "Let me take care of you," he murmurs, reaching for the shampoo bottle.

I nod, closing my eyes as his fingers begin to massage my scalp.

The gentle pressure of his touch sends tingles down my spine, and I can't help but let out a contented sigh.

Jolt asks, his voice low and intimate. "Feels good?"

"Mmm," I respond, unable to form coherent words.

As he works the shampoo through my hair, I find myself melting into his touch.

It's not just the physical sensation—there's something deeply nurturing about the way he's caring for me.

A lump forms in my throat as I realize how starved I've been for this kind of tender attention.

Jolt instructs softly, guiding me under the spray to rinse my hair. "Tilt your head back."

Once my hair is clean, he reaches for a loofah and begins to gently scrub my body.

His touch is almost worshipful, as he traces the curves of my shoulders, the line of my spine, the swell of my hips.

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