Page 97 of California Wild

Jesse turned her to face him.

The look in his eyes undid her. Golden. Intense. Searching.

“You okay?” he asked, quiet.

She hesitated. The steam curled between them. “I don’t know.”

His brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“I’ve just been feeling… off,” she said, glancing down. “Nauseous. Tired. Maybe jet lag.”

Something shifted behind his eyes.

Recognition, maybe. But he didn’t press.

Instead, he reached for the shampoo, pouring it into his hand. “Come here,” he said.

A command. A comfort.

She tilted her chin, teasing. “You always say that.”

“You like it when I say it.”

He caught her smile, brushing her wet hair back before gently tilting her head. His fingers threaded through her curls, massaging her scalp in slow, hypnotic circles. It wasn’t just soothing. It was worship.

Her lashes fluttered. “God. I missed this.”

“I know,” he said. “Me too.”

The shampoo rinsed away in warm rivulets. He followed with conditioner, working it through the ends of her hair like he was afraid to tangle it. Like touching her hair wrong might scare her away.

“You’re never leaving my side again,” Jesse said quietly. A vow, rough and honest.

Hayley opened her eyes, blinking up at him. “That’s not exactly how touring works.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

She laughed under her breath, her chest tight with something she couldn’t name. His thumb brushed over her cheekbone, then her jaw, then lower, tracing the curve of her throat like he was trying to memorize every inch.

He looked at her like she was something rare. Something breakable. Something that didn’t belong in his world, but somehow landed in his arms anyway.

And right there, in the haze of steam and silence, Hayley realized something she hadn’t been able to say out loud yet.

Chapter 15

When they finally stepped out of the shower, Jesse grabbed a towel and wrapped it around Hayley first, rubbing her down with slow, deliberate strokes, careful with every inch of her skin like she was something fragile. Something precious.

She wasn’t, though. She was tough as hell.

But Jesse still handled her like this, every single time.

“C’mere,” he said, steering her toward the bedroom with a warm palm at her back.

She followed, her body still humming, still heated from him, from everything.

Jesse opened a dresser drawer, rummaging for a second before pulling out a worn, faded Disturbed band tee—the same one she’d practically lived in three years ago, back when his apartment had felt as much like home as her own.

She took it, something tugging deep in her chest as she pulled it over her head. The fabric was soft, oversized, smelled like him.

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