Page 98 of Wild Side
“I wish you weren’t seeing me like this.”
My brow furrows. “Like what?”
“At my worst.”
I tip my head toward her. “Then it’s all uphill from here, baby. It’s going to make seeing you at your best so damn special.”
A sad smile wobbles through another strangled sob, and I watch a droplet leak from her eye as she sucks in a few breaths through her parted lips.
“Rhys, what are you doing? I mean, this is… What are you evendoing?”
I know she means the question on a much bigger scale. The wedding, the flying back to her unannounced, the way she’s always on my mind even when I’m doing something else. And the truth is, I don’t know. I can’t explain it. It justis.
But I know what I’m doing here in a freezing cold shower with her.
“Trying really hard not to touch you, Tabby.”
She whimpers, hand covering her closed eyes as though that extra layer will help her hide from me.
I expect her to tell me to leave again, but with no preamble, she turns and crawls into my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck and dropping her head on my shoulder.
Then she sobs.
And I hold her.
CHAPTER 33
RHYS
We situnder the freezing spray, wrapped together, for I don’t know how long. All I know is that eventually her sobs abate and all the tension in her body melts away until she’s slumped, limp in my arms.
My thumb hurts from rubbing circles on her temple, my tailbone is sore from sitting on hard tiles, and I’m cold to the bone, but I’ll hold her for hours more if she needs me to.
Except a shiver races down her spine, and her jaw quivers.
“Okay, Tabby Cat.” I swipe her wet hair back, gently urging her up. “Let’s get you warmed up now.”
She nods and lets me lift her. I take her from the shower and step onto the bath mat, easing her down to her feet. Water drips heavily from both of us. When I reach back in to crank the handle to off, a hush falls over the space. What felt loud now feels unbearably quiet, save for the odd chatter of her teeth.
My lips flatten, and I shake my head, irritated that I let her get so cold.
I cup her shoulders with my hands, rubbing up and down briskly. “You need to get the wet clothes off, honey. You’re freezing.”
She nods again, but I don’t get the sense she’s absorbing much of what I’ve said. Her eyes are far away, and her typical perfect posture has slumped down into something deeply sad.
I set my jaw for what I’m about to offer. “Do you want me to help you?”
Now her eyes meet mine, red and devastated.
She nods, and I nod back. Then I reach for the hem of her sweatshirt. I don’t let my hands linger—I make quick, respectful work of peeling the wet fabric from her body. Her arms lift, and I tug it over her head.
And fuck me, she isn’t wearing a bra.
I drop the sweatshirt to the floor in a sopping pile and take Tabitha’s naked body in for the first time. My throat goes dry as my eyes snag on her breasts, and then I follow her shirt and drop to the floor in front of her, trying to focus on the task at hand, desperately trying to ignore the voice in my head. The one reminding me that this isn’t the way I’ve imagined kneeling in front of Tabitha’s naked body.
I start with each woolen sock, gently gripping her behind her knees and tugging the heavy fabric away.
“Pants next, okay?” I look up at her, searching her face for some sign of consent.
