Riot

A huff or snort, not sure. “Really here? What do you mean?”

“Like, I thought it was a dream.”

A beat of silence. “A dream.”

“If this is a dream, it’s nice.”

“It’s not a dream,” he says, sounding amused.

“Then you’re really good at this.”

“Acting as a pillow?”

“Taking care of me.”

He’s silent for a while, stroking my hair, his breath warm against my forehead. He brushes his mouth over my skin.

“I want you to be well. I care for you, Pax.”

My heart stops. Then starts again. Okay. Backtrack. What is he saying? My brain’s fuzzy, and I don’t trust my senses.

“Riot, did you—?”

“Would you like a bath?” he whispers.

I blink, lift my head. “What?”

“A bath.” He pulls my head back down, resumes the stroking. “Would you like one? I mean, it’s not that you smell bad or anything…”

A snort escapes me. “No?”

“Not at all.” He sounds earnest. Eager. “I’d love to bathe you.”

Oh God. I’m warm all over. Smiling against his T-shirt, I nod and think, if it’s not a dream, then what does it mean?

***

The bathtub is full of steaming water and blueberry bubbles when he leads me to it. He’s down to his underwear, and if I wasn’t feeling like crap I’d have appreciated the view more.

As it is, I let him drag me to sit on top of the closed toilet lid and undress me. He takes off my robe, lets it pool on the floor, and starts on my pajama bottoms. He slides them off me, together with my panties, and I shiver. Not just from the cold.

He’s so gentle. He’s always been careful with me, but this...The way he steadies me before he moves me, the way he lifts my arms to take off my tee, the concerned look in his eyes…

Well, it’s not helping with my resolution not to fall for him. It was easier when it was only sex, and overcoming my fears.

Harder when he’s giving me this other side of him. The one I only imagined until now.

“Come, Pax.” He lifts me up, guides me into the bathtub, then climbs in after me. He sits and settles me between his long legs, my back resting on his naked chest, my head propped on his shoulder. He takes the sponge and soap from the holder. “Okay?”

“Yeah.”

More than okay. Warm, comfortable. He’s surrounding me with his body, and I feel protected. Safe from harm. Cherished and cared for.

He wets the sponge, passes the soap over it, and then runs the sponge over my body. Over my arms, over my shoulders, down my chest, over my breasts. My nipples tingle and pebble from the roughness of it, and when he continues down my stomach, I shift restlessly.

This feels good. Way too good.

His stroke continues down my thigh, then circles back up to do the other one. My pussy clenches with need. Crazy that I should need release so badly when I’ve been so sick I could barely get out of bed, but here, warm and relaxed, leaning against Riot, I want.