Page 40 of Justice for Francesca

Taking a long, hard look at her face, he noted the exhaustion. Light purple bruises were forming under her eyes from lack of sleep, her mouth was pinched, whether in pain or frustration, he couldn’t tell, and her skin appeared even paler than before.

“I don’t know why I’m here.”

Another brush of his hand, this time over her hair, attempted to smooth the stray hairs pulled out of random places from the bun low at the nape of her neck. There was no way he was allowing her to push herself any further tonight. It wasn’t in him to allow that. His woman needed taking care of, and she was cusping the point of desperate for it.

Without words, he walked behind her, pressed the “Lock” button on the elevator so that it wouldn’t open without his permission, and gently maneuvered her a few extra steps forward. Her head turned in profile, looking down at the hand settled at her wrist. Stepping around her completely until he stood in front of her, his fingers trailed up her arm, then across her shoulders. His gaze met hers again. When he slid his hand down her opposite arm until it reached her hand, automatically, their fingers threaded together. His other hand reached for her free hand, and when he had it in his grasp, he raised both to his mouth, kissing the knuckles where they were brought together.

Backing up, he pulled her toward the hallway and into the bathroom. Once inside, he lifted her to sit on the vanity. He knew if he didn’t drag his eyes from hers, he would divert from his plan to take care of her and simply sweep her into his arms and end up making love to her. While that would be wonderful, he needed to move carefully with her, or she’d retreat again. He wondered what had happened to cause her to return after her obvious avoidance today.

Another step back from her, he reached for one leg and removed the boot from her foot, the zipper excruciatingly loud in the quiet. He pulled off her sock, put it inside her boot, dropped the boot to the floor, and began to massage the foot he held in his hands. The bright-pink polish on her toes matched the elastic in her hair, both incongruent with the conservative blouse and trousers. Just one more puzzle that was Francesca McCabe.

She didn’t make a sound, but after a minute or two of gently kneading the muscles, he felt them relax. He reached for her other foot and repeated the process until he felt the tension lessen. When that happened, he turned to open the large glass-walled shower and reached inside to turn on the water so it warmed up for her.

Returning to her, he realized she hadn’t moved a muscle on the counter, as if knowing to do so would cause him to chastise her. He reached for the elastic in her hair and pulled it free, settling it around his wrist. Her pale-blonde hair spilled straight down her back, and he finger-combed through it to make sure there were no significant tangles.

Her eyes were searching his, slightly wary.

“No expectations, Francesca. Just let me take care of you.”

Deftly, he unbuttoned her short-sleeved blouse, peeled the silky fabric down her arms, and laid it on the counter. His hands spanned her waist to slide her off the counter and stand her on her feet. Without a hint of hesitation, he reached for the side zipper on her slacks and pulled the tab until the metal was completely open. He went down on one knee to slide the slacks over her hips to pool at her feet.

He reached for her left hand, kissed the palm, and put it on his shoulder. He did the same with her right. Once he was sure she was balanced, his hands reached for the cocoa-colored lace panties and stripped them down her legs. He tapped her foot so that she stepped out of the material around her ankles, keepingherself steadied with the help of his shoulders. Whisking the pants and panties off the floor, he stood and laid them on the counter with her blouse. A quick reach around to her back had her matching bra unsnapped and lying with the rest of her clothes.

Dislodging her hold on his shoulders, he quickly tested the water stream to make sure it wasn’t too hot. Satisfied it wouldn’t scald her, he quickly pulled his T-shirt from behind his head and over his shoulders, dropping it on the floor. His jeans were gone with a flick of the button and a strong pull down over his hips. Now as naked as she was, he stepped into the shower, leading her inside the glass enclosure.

Her back to his front, he moved her under the spray so that it was hitting high on her chest, and he laid a line of kisses across one shoulder to the other. One of her arms reached over and behind her head to curl the palm of her hand around the nape of his neck as she closed her eyes and leaned back into his mouth. Gently, he turned her to face him, careful to keep a slight distance between their bodies since his dick was more than pleased with their current circumstances. Unfortunately, that would have to wait. His woman needed rest. Sex between them would not be restful.

Tipping her head back under the spray, he made sure her hair was thoroughly soaked through. His fingers threaded through her tresses to make sure there were no knots, this time because of the water. Her eyes closed as he massaged her skull, and her hands crept up to rest lightly at his waist. He squeezed a small dollop of shampoo into the palm of one hand, then rubbed both hands together before beginning to wash her hair. After rinsing the soap down the drain, he repeated the process with conditioner, thoroughly enjoying being able to finger-comb her hair to again prevent tangles. He was beginning to think that of all the ways he could touch her, this was actually his favorite.

While the conditioner sat in her hair and did its work, he lathered soap between his hands and went to work washing down her body. He focused on the work, knowing he’d have time later—maybe not today—to explore the softness of her skin over the well-developed muscles. So fragile-looking on the outside but badass and fit on the inside.

After rinsing the soap off her body and the conditioner out of her hair, he realized she’d done nothing the entire time except stand there. He gathered her into his arms and pulled her tight to him, ignoring the hard muscle screaming at him from between them. She didn’t need him pawing her, but he also wasn’t going to hide the fact that his body wanted hers, and with the conversation last night, he certainly hadn’t hidden from her that he wanted a relationship with her.

The warm water continued to rain down on them as Tripoli just held her close. Slowly but surely, with each minute that passed, her body relaxed further into his until, eventually, her arms looped around his waist, and her ear lay over his heart.

When he started to feel the water cool, he turned it off and helped guide Francesca out of the shower. He draped a warm towel around her body, tying it off, then sat her on a rolling stool he pulled out from under the bathroom vanity, helping her to sit so that she faced the mirror. Then he grabbed another towel to tie off around his waist and a smaller one to squeeze the excess water out of her hair and towel it dry. Finally, he began to run a brush through the long, straight hair, freeing the minor tangles he’d created.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “I’m just so tired.”

“I could tell,” he replied. “You okay? You need to talk?”

She shook her head, dropping her eyes. “I just need sleep.”

“You got it. Ten minutes and you’ll be in bed, but we can’t have you sleeping on wet hair. When you wake up, I’ll feed you,and then you’re going back to sleep.” He dropped a chaste kiss on the top of her head, looking at her reflection.

He pulled out the hair dryer and did a simple blowout of her hair, then put it in a long braid. He helped her up from the stool and led her into the bedroom, removing her towel and tucking her naked body into his bed. He turned to go pick up their clothes in the bathroom. When he came back into the bedroom, he heard it.

“Ethan?”

“Yes?”

“Stay with me?”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. He slipped the knot on the towel around his waist and climbed in beside her. He was barely under the covers when she snuck in tight to his side, her head on the pillow, a hand to his chest. “Comfortable?” he whispered.

Her eyes shut, she sighed and replied, “You’re so warm.”

Two breaths later, her chest rose and fell evenly. Her face looked relaxed to him, an expression he wasn’t used to seeing. Usually, her face reflected whatever state her brain was working in—pensiveness, tension, irritation. Looking at her now, there was nothing but peace. He smiled, happy to know he was the reason for that expression. Placing a kiss to the crown of her head, he pulled her closer and let his own eyes drift shut. He knew he’d wake up in a couple of hours, another holdover from his days with the Raiders, so he let sleep drag him under.

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