Page 27 of Mountain Protector

I pad to the bathroom, running hot water into the tub. I add a capful of the pine-scented bath oil I sometimes use for sore muscles after training. The steam rises, filling the small bathroom with a woodsy scent that reminds me of the forest surrounding my cabin.

When I return to the bedroom, Ruby is exactly where I left her, looking thoroughly claimed and impossibly beautiful. Her hair is a tangled mess of fire against my pillows, her lips swollen from my kisses, her skin marked in places by my mouth and hands. The sight of her like this—in my bed, bearing the evidence of my passion—sends a fresh surge of possessiveness through me.

“Come on,” I say, lifting her into my arms. She weighs almost nothing, her small frame fitting perfectly against my chest. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

She loops her arms around my neck, looking up at me with something like wonder. “You’re running me a bath?”

The surprise in her voice makes me wonder what kind of men she’s been with before. Men who didn’t take care of her afterward. Men who didn’t understand that claiming a woman like Ruby comes with responsibilities.

“Of course,” I answer simply, carrying her to the bathroom.

I set her down gently beside the tub, keeping a steadying hand on her waist as she tests the water with her toes.

“It’s hot,” she says, but she’s smiling.

“The way it should be.” I help her step in, watching as she sinks into the steaming water with a sigh of pleasure.

I kneel beside the tub, taking a washcloth and soaking it in the hot water. Gently, I begin to wash her, starting with her shoulders and working my way down her arms. Her eyes drift closed as I tend to her, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

“No one’s ever done this for me before,” she admits quietly.

The confession tightens something in my chest. “Their loss,” I tell her, meaning it. Taking care of Ruby like this feels like a privilege, not a chore.

I wash her back, careful around the areas where my fingers left marks on her delicate skin. Then her breasts, the cloth gliding over her nipples and making her breath catch. Down her stomach, between her legs where she’s still sensitive, making her gasp and shift in the water.

“Relax,” I murmur, keeping my touch gentle. “I’m just taking care of you.”

She opens her eyes, looking at me with an expression I can’t quite decipher. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

The question catches me off guard. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Ruby shrugs, water droplets sliding down her shoulders. “Most guys aren’t.”

I set the washcloth aside, cupping her face in my palm. “I’m not most guys.”

Her eyes search mine, looking for something—sincerity, maybe, or deception. I let her look, having nothing to hide. What I feel for Ruby may have started as raw desire, but it’s already evolved into something more complex, more powerful.

“No,” she agrees finally. “You’re definitely not.”

I help her wash her hair, massaging her scalp with firm fingers until she’s practically purring with contentment. When we’re finished, I help her stand and wrap her in a large towel, drying her with the same care I used to bathe her.

“Your turn,” she says, gesturing to the tub.

I shake my head. “I’ll shower later. This was for you.”

Ruby steps closer, still wrapped in the towel, and places her palm against my chest, right over my heart. “Thank you.”

The simple words, spoken with such genuine gratitude, affect me more than they should. I cover her hand with mine, pressing it more firmly against my chest so she can feel my heartbeat.

“You don’t need to thank me for taking care of what’s mine,” I tell her, the possessive words slipping out before I can stop them.

Instead of pulling away or looking offended, Ruby’s eyes darken, her lips parting slightly. “Is that what I am? Yours?”

I should backtrack. Should apologize for being too intense, too possessive, too soon. But I can’t bring myself to lie to her.

“Yes,” I say simply. “If you want to be.”

She studies me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she rises on her tiptoes and presses her lips to mine in a kiss that’s achingly tender.

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