Page 34 of Twisted Vows

I’ll give her everything she needs for the rest of her life. I’ll dedicate all of me to protecting and pampering her until my dying breath.

It’s really fucking hard to stop myself from leering at her when the soap trails down the soft roundness of her stomach and pools in her bellybutton. As delectable as her breasts and pussy are, the slight pooch of her abdomen adds a visceral realness to her curves, and I long to pledge my love and devotion to her, but she’s not ready for the words, so I gnaw on my busted lip and use the pain to stay focused.

After rinsing her front, I add fresh soap to the washcloth, hang it on the bar, and make sure my hands aren’t slippery before letting the showerhead hang behind me. When I thread my arm behind her, she balks, but I pull her forward and shuffle us around until she sits between my legs. Although the tub is larger than average, I can’t straighten my legs even with my back against the wall, but I wedge myself into a semi-comfortable position—avoiding the spigot as best as I can—and lean her forward.

She stiffens when my chest brushes against her back, but she loses some of her rigidity when I grab the washcloth. I workthe lathered cloth over her back and trace the scars with my fingertips.

When she doesn’t react, I tuck a finger under her chin and guide her face to the side so I can see her profile. She gives me an epic side glare before ignoring me.

Despite my curiosity, I don’t ask about the marks on her flesh.

I never expected my firecracker of a woman could pout so cutely or wield the silent treatment so skillfully, but then again, I’m a fucking idiot for underestimating her. She’s a perfect match for my mischievous cynicism.

When I’m certain I’ve cleaned every inch of her back, I fumble for the showerhead and rinse her off before cupping her shoulders and pulling her against me. Her reluctance shouldn’t turn me on, but it does. I ignore my aching cock and scoot her hips away from mine.

When I prop her body lower on my chest, she hisses and turns her neck, reminding me of the knot on the back of her head.

“Sorry,mia caramellina. Is it too late for an ice pack?”

She opens her mouth to respond but catches herself and sends me a scathing look.

I sigh, tilt her chin up, and shield her eyes with my hand before aiming the water at the top of her head. Her hair dances across my chest and down my abdomen as the water flows over us both.

As I shampoo her hair, mindful of her injury, she slowly relaxes against me, and by the time I finish rinsing the bubbles off us, she’s more asleep than awake. I gentle my hands further and work the conditioner through her locks with long, soothing strokes. More of her tension drains away.

The shower drowns out her soft sigh, but her body shifts against mine as she fills her lungs fully for the first time inwhat feels like ages. As the fight drains from her, I bask in the trust she unwillingly gives me. Even though I know I pushed her beyond her limits, she’s sleeping while naked and wet in my arms, giving me hope for our future.

It may be a false hope, but I’ll cling to it with every fiber of my being. Mia Rivera is mine.

I rinse the conditioner from her hair, wash the last of the soap down the drain, turn off the water, and slide open the shower curtain just enough so the towel doesn’t get drenched when I pull it through. I hiss as the stitches in my back and arm pull. Mia gives a small, annoyed huff but doesn’t wake, so I drape the first towel over her and grab a second for her hair.

After wrapping her head and slowly shifting us both so I can stand, I lift her to my chest and rise. She half wakes with the sexiest pout on her face, but I step out onto the mat and fix the towel around her torso before setting her on the counter and propping her up in the corner. She huffs and pushes me away, but I catch her arms, take off her bindings, and kiss the inside of her wrist.

Her eyes pop open and she searches my face, but I place her hands in her lap and cup her cheek.

“Sit still for a minute,mia caramellina. Don’t fall.Capisci?” I demand.

When her feistiness shines through her glare, I smile and plant a quick kiss to her forehead before turning and using the last towel to dry my body. After rummaging through my bag, I sigh and pull my only remaining pair of clean underwear on and toss my undershirt onto the counter opposite my woman. She reaches for the fabric, but when I capture her hand and return it to her lap, she sighs in annoyance, closes her eyes, and leans her head against the wall.

I pat her arms and legs dry with my towel before pulling the lotion from my bag. She slits her eyes open at the lewd sound asI squirt a ton of lotion on my palm and rub my hands together to warm it up. When I lift her wrist, she grits her teeth and closes her eyes.

My reverence grows as I rub her arms and legs. She’s too feminine to be so strong. My balls ache and cock throbs, but I push my lust aside and pamper my woman as she deserves.

When I unravel her towel, she lifts her lashes enough to send me a warning glare, but the haze of sleep adds a soft, intimate element, and I can’t help but smile at her cuteness.

I keep my touch as platonic as possible but worship her with every touch, silently promising what she won’t let me say in words. When I work my cleanest shirt over her head without taking too many liberties with her body, she helps me thread her arms into the sleeves before leaning back into the corner. I settle the hem around her hips and tug the first aid kit to the front of the sink before dropping to my knees in front of her. As I inspect her blisters and apply ointment, I catch her watching me with an odd expression. I can’t name all the emotions flitting over her features, but the sheer depth of her thoughts steals my breath.

She’s going to keep me on my toes for the rest of my life, isn’t she?

I can’t wait.

After turning on the bedside lamp, carrying her to the room’s only chair, and warming her favorite foods, I wrap her fingers around her fork and give her nape a squeeze before changing the sheets—again—and chugging a bottle of water.

As I twist the cap back onto the plastic, I catch her sneaking a glance at me. The reluctant appreciation in her gaze has me fully hard, but I ignore my insatiable cock and toss the empty bottle into the trash.

When I check the food and realize she’s barely picked at it, I scoop her up, sit in the chair, and settle her sideways on my lap. By the look on her face as she studies the fork in her hand, sheconsiders stabbing me with it, but her wisdom prevails and she lets me pry her fingers off it with little difficulty.

She honors me by accepting the food I offer, and as I fill her belly with her roommate’s homemade meal, her eyelids slip over her glare and the tension drains from her body.

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