Page 98 of A Devious Arrangement

“I’ll be out in a minute.” She stands in the open bathroom doorway, the light creating a halo around her.

A muscle ticks in my jaw as I take in her slight silhouette. Her black shirt and black pants make her skin even paler thanusual. She’s stunning, watching me with clear blue eyes, crimson strands of her hair escaping the confines of her bun, framing her delicate features.

My ribs compress as she stands across from me, arms crossed over her chest. What she wants and what she needs are two different things, but I’ve made too many choices for her already to force her to let me in.

“Come on, don’t you want to shower with me? I promise I’m good at rubbing…oops, I mean scrubbing.” I bite my lip, giving her a suggestive grin. That’s too playful to take seriously. The last thing I’m thinking about is sex, but the way she huffs out a breath, a laugh of exasperation on her lips, makes me want to cheer with my success.

She glances away, the light leaving her eyes too soon. Her features carve into stone, not revealing a hint of her thoughts.

I know her too well to believe she’s okay. Stasia’s trying to convince herself as much as she’s trying to convince me. She wants to escape, to forget, to pretend nothing happened.

I want to hold her, kiss her softly, and whisper that everything’s okay, but Stasia has built a damn wall between us.

She shot someone today, and even though she’s pretending everything is fine, I know she’s hiding from me. I’ve known men who’d spent their entire lives in the darkness who still broke down after their first kill.

Stasia needs me right now, no matter how strongly she denies it. I’m compelled to force her to let me take care of her, and my shoulders ache with restraint. A knot of certainty sits heavy in my gut. If I push this, she’ll run from me.

My mouth is dry when I say, “Hurry up, then. I’m gross, and this room only has one shower.”

“You’re so pushy.” Her joke’s hollow as she disappears into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

I lean my back against it and let myself slide to the floor, my head connecting with the wood with a sigh. Even the few feet between us drive me mad.

There’s the rustling sound of her removing her clothes, quickly covered by the rushing from the shower, disrupted by the splashing as she steps under the spray.

Twisting, I press my ear closer, not giving a single shit that I’m invading her privacy. I’ve already given her every inch of space I can manage.

There’s a long squeak, the unmistakable noise of feet sliding over the tub’s surface. My heart freezes in my chest, but there’s no crash from a fall, which means it’s the sound of her lowering herself to the floor. I close my eyes and picture her seated under the spray, and there’s a jagged knife splitting between my ribs.

Raking my fingers through my hair, I tug the ends until my scalp screams in protest as I struggle to keep myself in place. She’d asked for privacy, and I really do owe it to her after all the cameras I put in her house. I roll my head forward, straining to listen, deciding this is the most I can give her.

A low whine breaks through the pounding water, followed by a shattering sob. My stomach hollows as if I’ve taken a punch to the sternum, and I’m off my feet, yanking the door open so hard the hinges creak in protest.

I suck in a broken breath as my gaze lands on my beautiful Stasia. She’s curled into a ball, head bowed to her knees as her body shakes with the force of her cries. I cross the distance between us so fast I could have teleported and lift her into my arms as I step into the tub. She presses her face into my chest, sucking in fractured inhales, pressing herself tighter until it feels like she’s trying to fuse into me.

I wrap her tightly with one arm, cupping her nape with the other. Pain slices through me with each of her shudderingbreaths. Her fingers grasp my wet shirt, now sticking to my pecs, and wrench me closer, melding her body with mine.

I draw circles with my thumb between her shoulder blades and hairline and run my hand up and down her spine, all the while murmuring reassurances into her ear. I love you. You’re perfect. Everything will be okay. You’ve done nothing wrong. This feeling won’t last long. The words flow out in an incomprehensible mess, but they seem to do the trick.

Her body gradually stops shivering, and it takes several beats before she meets my eyes.

Blue rimmed with pink has my heart cracking. I brush back her wet strands and rub my thumb over her cheek. “Talk to me.”

Tears break over her bottom lashes, still visible under the water. She holds her hands up between us. “I couldn’t get them clean.”

My throat burns as I examine her spotless palms, red from her scrubbing. “They’re clean, Princess.”

She shakes her head and tries to pry away, but I hold on to her.

“Okay…okay.” I speak to her in a tone I would use with a scared animal, not wanting to create any more distress. “I’ll wash them for you.”

My throat bobs when she continues to withdraw.

“Please, trust me,” I whisper, barely audible over the water.

Her black lashes are spikes where they cling together as she stills her hands. I’m gentle as I apply soap, massaging with my thumbs until the tension releases. I rinse them off and lift her palm, kissing it gently, then do the same to the other.

“See, all clean.”

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