“Now there’s a sight to come home to,” Killian’s deep voice says. It startles me as I let out a squeal. I sink deeper into the tub, trying to use the bubbles to hide my body. I do my best to corral them towards me. He laughs as he takes in my scowl.
“You should’ve let me know you were back,” I complain. My heart still racing from the scare.
“I just did.” He half shrugs, still raking his heat-filled eyes over the water, making me check that nothing is showing.
“I meant you should have let me know before you scared me to death,” I clarify.
He looks at me with a slight frown, understanding dawning on him. “Maybe I should’ve taken that into consideration.”
“Gee, you think?” I snap out sarcastically. He grins, the look pinning me to the spot. The heat in his eyes is warmer than the water in the tub.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to make me turn you over my knee and spank you with the way you keep using that sassy mouth.”
My lips part in a gasp and I can’t respond for a second. My insides clench at the sexy threat. “I’m a little too old to be spanked.”
“There’s no such thing. You will never be too old for me to spank you, baby.” A blush fills my cheeks as I picture him doing just that. I avert my gaze, dropping it down to the swirling bubbles.
“You need to stop joking with me,” I mutter.
“I’m not joking.”
“That’s good because you’re not funny,” I say, finally looking up, “You need to get out so I can finish up and get out of here.”
“How are you going to manage washing your hair when it's painful to raise your arms that high?” Killian asks, surprising me.
“How do you know that?”
“You grimace when you use your arms, baby.”
“I’m still a bit tender,” I admit grudgingly. “Right now, my hair is fine. Mavis helped me wash it before I left the hospital, and when I got home, E-Z helped.”
“E-Z helped you wash your damn hair?” he growls.
“Yeah,” I respond slowly, feeling his anger as if it was a physical thing. Apparently, even the idea of his friend helping me with something as dull as washing my hair is setting him off.
“I’ll kill him,” Killian mutters under his breath.
“You will do no such thing. I like E-Z.”
“You’re my damn wife! Not E-Z’s.”
“I know that!”
“Apparently not, or you wouldn’t let E-Z wash your damn hair.”
“You’re being unreasonable. E-Z is my friend, and I needed help, so he helped,” I explain, staring at him like he’s lost his damn mind—which I’m pretty sure he has. He’s shaking with anger. It’s kind of pissing me off, so I poke the bear. “E-Z has remarkably gentle hands for someone so big and muscular.”
“I forbid you to notice anything about him!”
“You forbid me?” I laugh.
“Yes, especially anything to do with his muscles or his hands. And for your information, hands that kill men easily aren’t gentle, damn it!” He’s growling through clenched teeth. I watch him for a minute, then, before I lose my nerve, keep pushing.
“You’re jealous,” I murmur, wondering why that brings me such a feeling of joy.
“Damn straight.” I smile, unable to hide the pleasure that gives me and that was a mistake. It makes Killian more upset. He seems to be vibrating with anger and pent-up aggression. I might have gone a tad too far with the gentle hands statement—even if it was true. I watch as Killian crosses his arms, and his dark eyes stare me down. “You better get that smile off your face right now because you likely just signed E-Z’s death warrant.”
“Because he washed my hair? You’re being insane! You can't kill him!” I realize this has escalated very quickly. The jealousy shows me he has feelings for me, and I’ve been enjoying it, but I have a feeling he’s not kidding. Now my joy is slowly eking into panic territory.
“You’re right. I'll just cut off his hands.”
“Now you’re toying with me. There’s no way you can be serious,” I grumble.
“I am. No one should ever see you naked but me!”
“No one has, Killian,” I sigh, realizing he’s got it all wrong. This probably isn’t about jealousy at all. It goes back to ownership—not feelings.
“Do you expect me to believe you showered with your clothes on?” he laughs humorlessly. For a second, confusion clouds my brain as I try to follow his logic.
“You’re being an idiot,” I say, shaking my head at him. “No one has seen me without clothes. E-Z washed my hair in the kitchen sink.”
“From now on, you’ll only have female guards until I get out of jail to see to you myself,” he growls, veering past what I said until he stops abruptly. “Wait. He washed your hair in the kitchen sink?” I nod, not responding verbally, because I don’t want to upset him further. “So, you had your clothes on?” he asks.