“So… you want me to wash your hair, too?”
I opened my eyes. “Shut it.”
“No, you have little teeny weensy hairs here. I see a couple. I could wash them. I think I could spare one or two drops of shampoo.”
I blew out a breath between my lips and instead of retorting, I splashed him.
“Hey!” He jumped back but I scooped up more water and got him right in the middle of his chest. His shirt was now clinging to the muscles underneath. Oh, yummy. I should have done that a half hour ago.
“Brat.”
“Dickhead.” I splashed him again. “You’re wet now. Might as well get in here.” I punctuated again with another big splash.
He stepped back and slipped on the floor, only barely recovering his footing before he fell. He pulled a couple towels off the rack and laid them on the floor, then fixed me with a grim look before his mouth turned up in as mile. He reached up and pulled off his T-shirt.
Hell yeah.
I wasn’t coy about watching him strip, either. His body was solid, muscular, beautiful. I sighed with just a little too much longing when he finally pulled off his jeans and boxers.
“You’re quite enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” he said as he placed his clothes on a nearby chair.
“It’s an amazing view. And I’m not talking about the Eiffel Tower all lit up outside my window.”
He came over to the tub and I reached up and lightly stroked his washboard abs. I’d missed that hard, flat stomach. He stepped over the side of the tub and sank down opposite me. I grabbed some more bubble bath, dumped it into the water between us and said, “You need some more bubbles to truly enjoy the bubble bath experience.” I opened the faucet, letting more hot water into the tub.
I had to bend over him to reach it, but I made sure to keep my towel pinned securely to me. Adam’s dark eyes followed me and I leaned over him until the tub had refilled adequately, then turned off the water. Before I could lean back, he caught my arm and pulled me toward him and my mouth landed on his.
I moaned as he plunged his tongue into my mouth. I fell against his chest, returning the kiss with about twice the passion he put into his—which was saying something because his kiss was far from chaste. But I was starved for him and I wasn’t going to let him out of the tub without letting him know that.
He reached up and put one hand on my back, the other against the towel I held to my chest. When we finally came up for air, he looked up at me and swallowed hard. “This isn’t easy,” he murmured.
I shook my head. “Nope. It’s not.”
The hand on my chest moved slightly to the side, as if he wanted to slide it under the towel, I pulled it tighter to me. Our eyes were locked and I could tell he wanted it as badly as I did.
“I want to touch you. I want to see you,” he said.
I hesitated, freezing in sudden terror. I couldn’t let him see me. I was ugly, scarred. It would disgust him. He’d never want me. I swallowed the fear but it rose up again immediately. Finally, I gently shook my head.
He looked away for a stretch of minutes and sighed heavily. “Okay. I’m not going to make you do something you don’t want to do. But eventually…”
I sat back, putting a little distance between us. “Eventually I’ll get some reconstruction…”
His eyes flew back to mine. “So I don’t get to see you until after that?”
I didn’t answer. I had no answer. It wasn’t fair of me. I did want him to touch my breasts. But the fear was too strong.
“What are you scared of, Emilia?”
I took a shaky breath. “You have no idea what it’s like to go out in public at your side. You are perfect. Everyone looks at you and they wonder what the hell you’re doing with me.”
He frowned. “You think that if I see you, I won’t want you.”
I nodded. “Yes. That’s exactly what I think.”
“Yesterday at the park you said you don’t trust what you think anymore because you question your judgment. That’s about right because with this, you’re absolutely wrong. If I just loved the outside of you, you’re right, I probably still wouldn’t be here. I’d see only that your beautiful hair was gone or that you were sick all the time.”
I lowered my gaze to the surface of the bubbles, his words stinging me. They were honest but they hurt.
“But I don’t just love your hair or your beautiful skin, your breasts or your eyes, your body. Those are the bonuses and they will come back. I love you, Emilia. I love your heart, which is worried about me even when you are the one hurting. I love your brain—that we can have long conversations about things and you get it. You get me. I love your soul, which feels, sometimes, like it’s mine, only in your body.”