Page 136 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

I didn’t understand it, but he didn’t shrink away from me. He simply turned me into his arms and held me as I cried. He said soft words in a language I didn’t understand, but it soothed more than anything else ever had in my life.

By the time I was cried out, the water was finally starting to cool.

He eased me under the rain hood to rinse away the last of the suds and hair products, the tears, and the pain. I tipped my chin up to meet his stark blue eyes. His inky lashes were starred with wetness. Water sluiced between us, trailing over his silvery scars that slashed over his neck and shoulder into his chest. I knew his back was worse.

I wanted to know what happened.

The truth, not the rumors and tall tales that had been drifting around for the last decade. But I didn’t want to ask. I wanted him to tell me freely.

More things I wanted I wasn’t sure I’d ever get from him.

He cupped my face and lowered his mouth to mine. The kiss was sweet and soft and all too brief.

“I don’t know how to turn off your fancy shower, duchess,” he said against my mouth with a crooked smile.

I reached back for the panel and pressed cancel.

The deafening roar simply was gone, leaving just our light breathing. Until his gaze drifted over my body to my ribs. His eyebrows snapped down. “What’s this?” He teased his thumb over a purplish mark.

“Nothing.” I moved to the shower door and found my towel on the warmer just outside. I stepped out and pulled it around me, but Nash jerked it back off. “Hey.”

“Did someone hit you?”

“Yeah, a door.”

“Explain.” The anger was back in his arctic eyes. “You have much to explain.”

I sighed. And we were doing so well.

I took the towel back and tucked it around me. “I need something to eat and to be dressed for this conversation.”

He swore behind me. I didn’t even feel bad when he had to rummage through three closets to find towels. Prick.

I touched the small electronic plate outside my closet. I had an absurd amount of clothes and had opted for an over the top closet to house them all. The racks of my high-end label and clubbing clothes slid back as my comfort wear came forward. I pulled a pair of yoga pants off the shelf and my favorite off the shoulder sweater from the rack. Then I moved to my lingerie drawers for a pair of panties. I didn’t bother with a bra at this time of night.

He was watching me, his silent anger infesting my usual place of serenity. I didn’t let men into this space. Hell, I didn’t let anyone in here really. Jamie didn’t count, since she pushed her way into every corner of my life.

It was just her way.

Nash? Well, I supposed he wasn’t much different from Jamie. I wasn’t sure I wanted to pick at that too closely.

Instead, I dropped my towel to step into my panties.

He drew in a breath. I glanced over my shoulder and my own breath stalled. Water from my wet hair dripped down my breasts. I told myself it was the cool air that made my nipples tighten, not Nash in his bare feet with only a pair of unbuttoned jeans on.

He wasn’t really a workout guy like most of the men who surrounded me, but he had to do something based on the ropey muscles of his arms and his trim belly. The breadth of his shoulders and chest gave me pause. He didn’t leave his shirt off for very long around me.

Other than that day at the waterfall, which had been an anomaly in so many ways. For both of us.

I was still mad at him, but my body definitely wasn’t on track with that particular program.

I pulled my sweater over my head to shield my reactions to him. Not that it helped much. I’d been fairly blessed in the tits department. They were sensitive as hell and my nipples stood out under the ancient berry colored sweater.

He crossed to me, his gaze raking over me as I stepped into my yoga pants.

He bent to pick up my towel. “Are you a slob, duchess?”

I arched a brow at him. “Sometimes.”

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