Sawyer (Carolina Reapers 2)

Faith had a broken heart? I bought ice cream.

Harper needed extra study space? I’d cleaned out the spare bedroom. Helping was the one thing—besides hockey—I was good at. So how the hell was I supposed to stand by and watch Echo go through some shit like this and not help?

How was I supposed to let Mom move up to Virginia next week and simply hope that my aunts knew everything they needed to? Hope that she had everything she needed and access to the right doctors?

What the hell was with the women in my life that they wouldn’t just let me fucking help them? And fuck that no-strings policy Echo insisted on. She was in my life, and she wasn’t going anywhere if I had anything to say about it.

The water rose to what I guessed was the right level, and I shut it off, trying to do the same to my raging emotions.

The last thing Echo needed was me piling my shit onto her while she was emotionally raw. I took two steadying breaths and tried to stuff all my issues back into a metaphorical jar. Maybe I couldn’t knock off the ex-boyfriend and dump his body in the Atlantic, but I could take care of my woman.

I walked back out into the kitchen to find Echo exactly where I’d left her.

“Come on,” I said gently, holding out my hand for her.

Her lips parted, and her forehead creased for a second, but she stood and took my hand. “I got nervous that you’d leave,” she admitted as I led her to the bathroom. “I know you don’t do well with feeling helpless.”

I turned and cupped her cheeks in my hand. “One, you know me a little too well. Two, I’m not helpless. Three, I’m not leaving. You can’t scare me off.” I bent and kissed her slowly, leaving her tilting her head for more when I pulled away.

Wordlessly, I stripped her, pausing to kiss and caress her skin with each bared inch, leaving her erogenous zones untouched. Her legs trembled by the time she stepped out of her thong, and her hands gripped my shoulders to stay upright.

I helped her into the tub, and she groaned as she slipped beneath the bubbles. “This feels like heaven,” she said, leaning forward to hug her knees. “Get in here.”

“Not sure if you’ve noticed, but the water is pretty much at max capacity.” I nodded toward the bubbles.

“The bubbles are deceiving,” she argued. “Plus, I had the tub put over a floor drain because I like my baths like I like everything else.” She arched an eyebrow.

“And how is that?”

“Deep. Hot. Consuming. You know.”

Our eyes locked, hers already going hazy with want. Far be it from me to deny Echo anything she wanted. Anything. Shit. I meant that.

This woman could ask me for the contents of my bank account, the deed to the house I hadn’t yet moved into, or even a fucking ring, and I wouldn’t say no. It wasn’t just the drive to make her happy, though that was strong. It was because seeing her happy made me happy. In that way, it was almost selfish to want to see to her every need, whim, or desire. The fact that I knew she’d never abuse the power was as intoxicating as the shit she kept on the top shelf downstairs.

I stripped my clothes carefully, holding her gaze the entire time. By the time my boxer briefs hit the ground, she was gnawing on her lower lip and looking at me like I was dessert. I stepped into the tub behind her and slid down until my back rested against the curve of the tub. Then she moved back and pinned my erection between us.

I hissed at the contact, but being hard around Echo wasn’t exactly new.

“This tub is huge,” I said as I ran my hands down the slippery skin of her shoulder.

“It was my splurge,” she admitted as her head rested against my chest. “I probably spent more than I should have on it, but I’m a sucker for a good bath.”

I reached for the soap and then began to wash the patches of skin I could see—her shoulders, her knees where they popped up above the water, and finally her collarbone. She arched as I passed above her breasts, and the blatant sensuality of the movement made lust wash over me, even hotter than the bathwater.

“I love the way you make me feel.” She tilted her head and looked at me, her eyes big and bright, and full of something that felt a lot like a string.

A string I wanted.

“I love everything about you.” The admission slipped from my lips in a gravel-worn voice I barely recognized as my own. The words were true. I was crazy about her—loved every little thing that made up this complicated woman I’d fallen for.