Page 65 of Owning Nicci

“I don’t need help.” I start to pull away, feeling a flash of panic at the idea of Savio helping me get undressed—helping mein the shower. He’s seen every part of me, done lewd and filthy things to nearly every part of me—but that feels too intimate. That kind of help feels like something a lover would do, and that’s far removed from what we are.

He pulls back, glaring at me, irritation plain in his eyes. “So, what,principessa? You’re going to get undressed yourself? Untie that hospital gown you’re still in yourself? You need my help, like it or not.”

“I don’t like it,” I bite out, and the smirk that flicks up the corners of Savio’s mouth infuriates me even more.

“Fine.” He shrugs. “You don’t have to. But I’m going to help you all the same,principessa.”

“Maybe you should have tried helping me sooner,” I snap, as we start up the stairs. “Instead of hurting me.”

I feel him flinch next to me, and I know that jab landed. But I don’t feel the satisfaction that I thought I would have at hitting a low blow.

“I’m helping now,” he murmurs. “I helped with the Crows. And I’ll still help with your family when you’re well, Nicci. I amtryingto help.”

The gravity in his tone sends guilt washing over me, and I press my lips together, biting back anything else I might say. I’m too tired to think of a retort anyway. I lean against the sink as Savio leads me into the small bathroom, catching my breath, and the look in his eyes clearly saysI told you so.He’s smart enough, at least, not to say it out loud.

“Turn around,” he says gently, instead. “When you feel like you can. I’ll undo the back.”

I swallow hard, and I’m sure he can see the resentment burning in my eyes. I’ve felt helpless for so long, and I’ve only just recently felt like I was getting some control of my life. Like I had some agency—some power over what was going to happen next. Now I feel weak again, reduced to needing Savio, of allpeople, to get me out of my hospital gown so that I can take a shower.

And, worse than that, when his fingers brush against the base of my neck as he reaches for the tie there, I feel warmth bloom through me. A warm, aching rush of desire, a reminder that it’s been days since he touched me last. Days in which we’ve shared a bed, shared meals, talked, and even laughed together, getting close to each other in ways we never have before. Days that made me feel things I hadn’t planned on feeling for him and still don’t want to.

The tie comes loose, and he reaches for the next one, tugging it open. His fingers brush my waist, and my teeth sink into my lower lip. The memory of seeing him naked in front of the dresser, all lean muscle and carved lines, flashes in my mind, and I close my eyes briefly. I don’t want to think about that.

The back of the gown falls open, and Savio reaches up to nudge it off of my shoulders. I swallow hard, trying not to think about how intimate this feels. I never thought that a man taking a hospital gown off could somehow be sexy, but Savio might as well be taking my wedding gown off of me, the way the air seems to thicken around us, that tension snapping taut as he carefully slides it down my arms.

“Be still, and I’ll get the old bandages off,” he says. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

I don’t want to hurt you.Something twists deep in my stomach at that, and I swallow hard, feeling a prick of tears at the corner of my eyes. No one has ever said that to me. I’ve had so many men take pleasure in hurting me, reveling in it, anticipating it…even Savio. But in this moment, I believe him. Whatever came before, he doesn’t want to hurt me now.

I wince as he peels the bandages off, throwing them in the trash before he goes over to start the shower. “I’ll go get you fresh towels,” he says, and I catch him pausing for justa moment, his gaze sweeping over my now-naked body as the gown drops and pools on the floor at my feet. I see his reflection in the mirror, see his eyes heat, and I can’t imagine how he actually wants me in this moment. I’m not sexy in the slightest, as far as I’m concerned—my hair is lanky, I haven’t showered since before the attack on the restaurant, and there are dark circles under my eyes. But Savio is still looking at me as if he’s aching to touch me.

He steps out, and I hobble over to the shower, sticking my hand under the water to test it. It’s warm enough, so I step in, nearly moaning aloud at how good the water feels on my skin. I tip my head back under it, sighing as it runs through my hair, and I reach for the shampoo to wash my hair first—before my shoulder sends a screaming jolt of pain through me, and I nearly burst into tears.

I’m not going to be able to wash my hair right now. A small sob slips out, and I hate myself for it—especially since it’s just in time for the door to open and Savio to walk back in.

“Nicci?” His voice is alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

The worry and care in his voice nearly undoes me. This isn’t the Savio I know, not really—but what if it is? What if this is who he really was all along, and it was just hidden under layers of hurt and betrayal? What if?—

“Nicci?”

“I can’t wash my hair.” I hate how helpless my voice sounds. “My shoulder hurts too much.”

“That’s an easy enough problem to solve.” A moment later, there’s the sound of Savio kicking off his shoes and theclinkof his belt buckle, and I feel my chest tighten.

“You don’t need to—” I start to protest, but Savio is already pushing back the shower curtain and stepping in.

My traitorous heart trips in my chest at the sight of him. He’s always been fucking gorgeous, regardless of anything else I’vefelt about him. Here, with him so close, my heart starts to race, my stomach tightening on a need that I’ve desperately tried to ignore. He looms over me, tall and muscled and masculine, the scent of him hot and filling the air around us in the small, steamy space, and I feel my mouth go dry.

Savio’s jaw tightens, and I see his gaze sweep over me. One quick look, and I can see that he’s rock-hard, his cock stiff and nearly pressed against his tight abdomen. But he ignores it, carefully maneuvering around me so that he’s standing behind me, and I hear him reach for the shampoo.

“Tilt your head back,” he says quietly. “I can’t say I’ve ever done this before, but I’ll do my best.”

“Washed your hair? That’s incredible, considering how good it looks.” I realize a second too late that what I meant to be a jab came out as a compliment, and I hear Savio chuckle.

“Are you actually complimenting me,principessa? I didn’t realize you liked my hair so much.”

“No. I’m not—” I grit out the words between my teeth, but they fade as Savio starts to work his fingers through my hair, and it’s all I can do not to moan.

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