Page 54 of My Sweetest Obsession
“Ivy…” Only a few inches from her now, the scent of her shampoo and soap fills my lungs along with that floral smell that always clings to her. “Look at me.”
It takes a few seconds before she lifts her eyes and does it.
“Tell me what’s wrong.” I try to keep my voice level, but my desperation slips out. “Please.”
Because the longer she takes to answer, to explain what the hell is happening, the harder it’s becoming to remain calm, like she needs me to be.
Water beats down on us, steam rising to fill the thick air heavy with unspoken words and a swirling storm of emotions that always seems to exist when we’re in each other’s orbit.
She sniffles, inhaling a few sharp breaths, and her hand motions down absently. “I haven’t shaved in weeks.” Her lips tremble, like she’s struggling to keep herself together enough to speak. “I feel like a goddamn sasquatch. And I just wanted to do it, but”—she sobs again, clenching her eyes closed—“I can’t reach right and then I dropped everything, and the thought of bending down to pick it up just?—”
Another anguished sound echoes around us, cutting off her explanation.
Shit…
I release a relieved rush of air from my lungs that’s also filled with guilt at feeling that way. But the current situation is far more manageable than the thousand other worst-case scenarios I had worked up in my head.
She’s overwhelmed. Clearly upset and at her breaking point. But she’s fine.
Physically, she’s okay.
And so is the baby.
But her tears continue as do her heaving breaths, as if not being able to shave her legs is the worst she’s been through in the last several months, instead of all the horrific things she’s experienced, and my heart shatters for her for the millionth time.
“Ivy? You’re okay.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not.”
But you can make it okay for her…
There are so many things I can’t fix, so many things that can’t be undone, but this I can do.
Or at least, I can try.
I sink to my knees in front of her, reaching for the shaving cream, her swollen belly mere inches from my face.
“Cam”—her unsteady voice floats to me over the rushing water—“what are you doing?”
Something I probably shouldn’t.
I glance up at her as I pull the top off the shaving cream and spread some on my hand. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
Her eyes widen, her soft lips parting. “You…you can’t.”
Shouldn’t.
Not can’t.
I hold her gaze even if it means she can see how strongly being this close to her is affecting me. Because it most definitely is. It would be impossible to be near this woman naked, wet, and so fucking beautiful like this with her stomach full with new life. “Let me help you, Ivy. You can hate me all you want after, I promise.”
She sucks in another sharp breath, watching as I gently run my hands up and down her legs, coating them in the shaving cream and desperately trying not to notice how she reacts to my touch.
Her body tenses, then starts trembling so hard I have to grip her thigh to keep it steady.
Our gazes stay locked for a moment, until I’m forced to look away to break the intensity of it that might make me say or do something foolish.
I pull my hands from her skin and rinse them before grabbing the razor and glancing back up at her. “Don’t move.”
