Page 44 of Secrets in Salem: Part One

Ready? I'll be a perfect gentleman, I swear.

I laugh when I look up and see the dopey grin he's sporting, making me as comfortable as one can be in these kinds of situations. I mean, the guy has seen me half-naked already since he rescued me from my own house. What's fully nude... right?

Chapter 23

Micah

Her smileis something to stop and stare at, but I don't for obvious reasons. I can only imagine how uncomfortable this situation is for her already, especially with her anger toward our dishonesty. It pained me to pretend, but it was worse to see the hurt in her eyes when she looked at me. I wasn't prepared for that kind of reaction, but it would seem Willow has niggled under my skin quicker than I would have ever anticipated. I don’t understand how that’s possible, but my beast is positively giddy.

I gesture for her to stand from the toilet, reaching for her hands to place them on my shoulders. With all of the gentleness I have within me, I go to work on pulling the tattered pants off her wounded legs. I know she isn't able to feel the pain since it was her fire that caused the injuries, but I'd rather take caution where I can.

Willow leans on my shoulders, her fingers flexing the moment her hands press against me. Her next intake of air catches, a subtle noise of her breath hiccupping in her chest that I pretend I don't notice as I carefully unwrap the material from her legs. I pause before looking up and gesturing toward her underwear, but she nods and looks away, rising a fraction to help me remove them with as much ease as I can manage.

I lift and back away a little, holding a hand out for her to take. She does so, sliding her smaller palm onto mine as I help her stand, steadying her before gesturing to her shirt. A spark of something tingles my palm the moment her hand rests against mine, but again, I don’t pay attention to it. That can wait until Willow is feeling better and less angry with us.

"I can do that. It's my legs that are hindering my ability to shower alone right now. But thank you," she says, sending me a small awkward smile.

Nodding, I hold her steady with my hands on her slim waist as she strips the shirt from her body, leaving her utterly bare before me. It takes painful measures not to roam my eyes over her creamy skin. After all, I'm still a man, and I'm not at all blind. I see how much of a beauty Willow is, as does my beast. If I didn’t have better control over him, I’m sure he would have broken free already.

Gritting my teeth against the urge to look over every inch of her, I lift her arm and hook it over my shoulder. I hold onto her, taking most of her weight as I practically carry her to the shower. The steam has fogged the mirrors, so she can't accidentally take another glance at the state of her legs unless she forces herself to physically look down. Based on her earlier reaction, I can't imagine she'll want another look until they're healed and in perfect working condition again.

I help Willow into the tub, sitting her down so she feels more comfortable. She shuffles under the spray of the shower, the water instantly soaking her tangled hair and cascading down her smooth back.

A soft sigh filters from between her lips, and it has an immediate effect on me. My pulse quickens, and that urge not to roam my eyes over her becomes stronger. The beast inside me growls softly, pushing to the front of my mind and making my gums and nails ache before I push him back. It won’t help any of our cases if I lose control of him right now. We need to take this one revelation at a time. Willow will soon find out who and what we are, so there’s no need to overwhelm her when she’s already teetering on the edge.

She shouldn't be able to garner this kind of reaction from me, but after watching her, feeling emotions I don’t particularly understand, and then getting to know her for the little time we've had with her, it's difficult not to grow even the slightest bit attached, to notice her striking beauty and alluring personality. I've been drawn in thoroughly, and I'm not sure I would consider it a bad thing.Yet. At least my beast doesn’t think so, and I'm inclined to agree with him on most things.

Focusing my attention back on the wounded and wet woman in the tub, I kneel on the floor beside her and reach over for the body wash. The spray pelting her legs doesn't seem to be causing her any discomfort, the water turning a pinkish red. Dark bits of ash and dirt are washed away by the steady stream, her legs tucked up against her chest and angled better for the water to erase the remains of what happened this morning.

With a defeated sigh, Willow whispers, "Thank you for helping me. Seems all I'm doing is thanking you or the others. I'm still mad, and I have a ton of questions, but I appreciate you all being there when I seem to need someone, and for helping me when necessary. I appreciate it. Could… could you stay until I’m done?"

I freeze, unsure how to respond. She doesn't have to thank us for protecting her. It's our duty. I mean, I'd do it even if I wasn't obligated to since the dark-haired beauty has already got me under her thrall. I don't require gratitude, only wishing I could have done a better job at protecting her. I don't particularly enjoy feeling like I'm failing at something I'm normally very good at. Seems we're all out of our element a little when it comes to the Devil's daughter.

Nodding in answer, I watch as Willow's head turns, her cheek coming to rest on her crossed arms she's wrapped on her knees. Without a pen or paper to talk to her, I smile. It's a guilty smile, but one that I hope that offers her the acceptance of her gratitude. Just in case the message isn't understood, I mouth,you're welcome,since my hands are wet and I can’t reach for my phone.

No sound leaves my mouth, but Willow looks no less shocked. Her eyebrows raise, her mouth popping open before a smile blooms. Based on that reaction alone, you'd think I'd given her the greatest gift ever. It makes me smile that bit more, the guilt slowly receding to make way for genuine pleasure at surprising the strong-willed woman who has had enough of them to last a lifetime.

I’m cautious while washing the rest of Willow's body. She takes care of her intimate areas, staring at me until I look away to offer her some semblance of privacy.

The moment she's done, I receive a tap on my arm by a wet finger, and my eyes open to find a suddenly sleepy-looking Willow. Her eyes flutter closed while the warmth of the water hugs her body, steam rising from her skin in waves. Realizing she must be tired since her body is still healing, I hasten my pace, washing her hair tenderly but efficiently. It draws out a groan from the depths of Willow's throat, and my body has never reacted so fast to a woman's sound of pleasure before. My jeans tighten painfully as my cock finds a mind of its own, hardening beneath my constraining pants so fast I grow a little light-headed. Desire flushes through me, and my beast reacts, pushing harder to get to the front of my mind, but I grit my teeth and ignore the feeling since I promised to be a gentleman.

Deciding that promise is going to be harder to keep than I would have ever anticipated, I hurry with my task that little bit more, trying to block out the soft moans and delighted noises leaving the woman who is trying to drive me out of my mind. My beast paces harder, wanting out to nuzzle against the girl, and I’m forced to fight for control over my own mind. She really is going to be the death of me.

As soon as the water begins to run clear, I rinse Willow's hair, her head dropping back to expose her slender neck, the creamy skin hypnotizing me for a moment before Willow's eyes open as she seeks me out. I blink quickly, smile, and twist her hair to rid the long strands of excess water.

"I don't think I can stand just yet," she whispers a little sheepishly. With a breathy laugh, I rise from the floor and snatch a fluffy towel off the rack, bending low enough to snugly wrap it around her small frame. She lifts her arms high enough for me to tuck the towel around her, flashing more skin than she’d probably have liked on a normal day, though she doesn’t seem to care all that much now that she’s battling exhaustion. I pretend not to notice even though my lower appendage is noticing a great deal. I wish he’d control himself. The same could be said for my fucking beast. Damn him.

With her wrapped up tightly, I bend further and pick her up bridal style, feeling the wet, smooth skin of her thighs against my bare forearms. She's warm to the touch, but not enough that we need to worry about her transforming.

Another sigh passes her lips, and she presses her head against my shoulder with such familiarity that my heart stalls beneath my rib cage before kicking back up at a slightly faster beat. I hold her a little tighter to my chest, wanting to feel her body closer to mine. It's a feeling I've had since she bumped into me, spilling my coffee over my chest. If I’m being honest with myself, I don't think I've wanted anything more.

I carry the small woman out of the bathroom, trapped steam wafting out behind us the moment the door opens. As I'm walking toward my room, Bishop steps into the hallway, pausing and looking over Willow with slightly raised eyebrows. I can only imagine his eyes are taking in every inch of exposed skin, the droplets of water still cascading over porcelain flesh. I catch him swallowing hard before he averts his eyes and continues to his bedroom, brushing against Willow as he goes. Her breath catches briefly, her body tensing before she relaxes back into my hold, rubbing her head against my shoulder.

We move into my room, and I spy the set of clothing on the bed ready for Willow. A little reluctantly, I place her down on the bed, sitting her next to the clothes. She eyes them like she doesn't really want to put them on, so while she's shuffling them in her hands, I move to my dresser. Thinking I might know what she needs, I pull out a black shirt and a pair of dark gray sweatpants before heading back over to her, crouching low, and waving a hand to catch her attention. I hold up the clothes the moment she looks over at me, the look of distaste she'd been harboring for her own clothing softening into relief and gratitude.

She reaches for the clothes before clenching her hand into a fist and asking, "You sure? I'm apparently very good at ruining clothing lately. Sure you want to risk a perfectly good shirt and sweats on me?"

Nodding, I drop the clothes in her lap, snag the notepad and pen off the side table, and scribble a sentence.

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