Page 7 of Dirty Grovel

“Let’s start with getting you into that bathtub,” I suggest. “I don’t mean to sound ungentlemanly but in case you haven’t noticed… you stink.”

She flinches. “Spending the night on a bathroom floor will do that to you.”

“And spending an hour in a tub will solve the problem. Now, do I have to force you into the water or will you listen to me for once? Because honestly, I’m this close to throwing you overboard just to get you clean.”

Her frown disappears. She glances towards the tub and nods slowly. “Alright then.” She struggles to her feet, ignoring my hand. But the moment she’s upright, she stumbles forward on weary legs.

I grab her before she can fall. “You’re dead on your feet.”

“Being on the run isn’t easy, you know.”

I arch an eyebrow. “And who exactly are you on the run from?”

She tenses, hiding once again behind her curtain of matted hair. “You, for one.”

“That went well for you.”

“Are you gonna help me into the tub or are we gonna keep talking in circles until we drive each other mad?” she snaps.

For a woman who’s in flight for her life, half-starved and barely standing, she hasn’t lost her fire.

“I’m going to take off your clothes now,” I warn her. “Do I have your permission to proceed?”

She swallows, her eyes widening. “You never asked for permission before.”

“Things were different before.”

Her eyes dim. She turns away and nods silently.

As much as I want to punish her for what she did to me, I hate myself every time I hurt her. Every cut I make feels like a cut to my own flesh.

She keeps her eyes downcast as I strip her down to her underwear. I probably should leave it there and help her into the tub as is, but it’s too damn tempting to resist.

I expect her to stop me but she doesn’t make a peep as I unhook her bra and slide it off her shoulders.

Next come her panties.

Usually, I’d be fighting arousal. But looking at her naked body, what I’m fighting instead is rage.

When I get my hands on that motherfucking ex of hers, I’m going to make him rue the day he ever even considered that he was worthy enough for Sutton Palmer.

As I help her into the tub, I can’t help but scan her belly. Still deceptively flat.

It might not be true, I tell myself, trying to fight the disappointment swelling inside me the moment I give that thought any airtime.

She submerges herself in water. A relieved sigh passes through her parted lips.

The sight of her, naked and vulnerable, bruised and terrified… it stirs something in me.

Something deep and carnal.

Something primal.

Possessive.

If there is a baby, it has to be mine.

“Are you pregnant?”

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