Page 801 of Love Bites

CHAPTER11

Clara tried to take her time. She really did. But she had a feeling it wasn’t enough.

Her circumstances weren’t anything she’d ever imagined for herself. Trapped indoors with a paranormal creature. His apparent mate, whatever the hell that entailed. And many years of possible jail time nipping at her heels. The wild part of her kept looking for chances to escape back to her camp. To her skink. To anything that was her own. But the rational side, the thinking, planning, logical side of her knew the truth. That from the moment she’d lost her book to Eagan, her days of freedom were numbered.

All she could do now was ride this out.

And maybe… just maybe she was ready for a change.

When she’d taken to the woods so long ago, she’d had no plan. No time limit for how long she planned on being gone. She’d told her sister not to look for her. Maybe she’d listened, maybe she hadn’t. There was no way of knowing. But she’d had her own family to take care of. A husband and two small children.

Clara let herself wonder about them. Wonder how they had handled the same tragedy that sent her running. How had they coped?

She always tried hard not to think of her past. It wasn’t welcome in her woods. But technically, she wasn’t there anymore. And those memories had a wicked way of forcing themselves on her no matter how hard she fought them.

Esther would be eight now, and Hillary, eleven. Almost a teen. She would have missed so much of their childhood. But they were better off not knowing her. Or… at least the person she used to be.

The person who treasured things over truth and honesty. The person who let someone she loved hurt others because she was too distracted to make them stop.

Clara closed her eyes, letting the water hit her face and wash away any tears. She wasn’t sure if they were there or not, and she didn’t want to know.

Better not to know. Feeling was too hard.

At base, she needed to survive. She didnotneed to feel. And her cook made her do just that, feel things she hadn’t imagined ever feeling. That giddy tumbling in your stomach you get before your heart leaps toward another’s. The flutter behind your knees when they want to go weak from a simple touch. She’d felt those and more in the last several hours. Tiny miracles she’d treasure later.

She grabbed the disposable razor she’d found in Eagan’s cabinet. It felt like hitting the jackpot, finding one that he hadn’t used. She didn’t even care that it was a man’s. A razor was a razor was a razor. And this thing had five blades so it was like, the Lamborghini of razors. Who the hell needed five blades?

She looked down, considering her bush, and amended that.

Whatmanneeded five blades?

Using Eagan’s spicy smelling conditioner as shave cream, she carefully dragged the razor over her legs. But there was hardly anything to remove after her spa clay treatment.

She shivered.Never again.

She repeated the process with her underarms and tried to figure out what to do with her bikini area. The cavewoman in her said to leave it. The hair was there for a reason. But maybe a little trim would be a good idea. Who knew when she’d find another razor.

Did they offer razors in prison or was that something you had to buy with the three cents you got for making license plates or whatever?

She started at the crease of her thigh and worked inward, but it was less shaving and more hacking away, machete in the brush style. Eagan’s Lamborghini razor wasn’t cutting it.

Clara sighed. A slight culling would have to do.

She turned off the water and dried her body with his too-soft towels. She’d miss sun-drying. Bathing in the hot springs. Even that harsh unscented soap.

Quickly, she dressed in Eagan’s clothes. He was right, the fabric was much softer than her jeans and flannel. At one time she’d have considered it comfortable. But now she was used to rough and tough. She had calluses. Plenty on the outside. And not as many as she’d hoped for on the inside.

In the cabinet, she found mouthwash. She rinsed and gargled. It was the best she could do with her toothbrush being back at camp.

With a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped into the main room. Eagan stood at the bed, fluffing a pillow.

“Feel better?” he asked, not looking at her.

“A little. You?” She glanced at his hips to get her point across.

He found her eyes, smirking. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

She shrugged. “It’s okay, you know. Masturbating is perfectly normal. Functional even.”

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