Donovan (Face-Off 3)

“Who says I need to shower,” I say to mock her, even though I do need to get my ass in gear.

She rolls her eyes. “Fine. Be a dirtball. Go stink up the locker room.”

“I’m getting one. Would you calm down already, woman?”

She flashes a bright smile. “You should get in with me. Let me wash you for once.”

A long pause passes between us as I mull it over. Sydney has seen my tattoos, regardless of how it happened. The first part is over. She saw the ink, knows there must be some personal meaning to them. Next, comes the hardest part. I hate talking about my past and myself. But I made a promise, and I’m not the kind of asshole who makes a habit of breaking them.

“Okay.” I submit.

“Really?” Her eyes widen in surprise. “Without your shirt, right?”

I laugh. “Yes, without my shirt.”

I slide off the bed, beckoning her to follow me into the bathroom. She does as I want and without me asking.

Pulling up my shirt, I hesitate out of habit, before I tug it over my head and drop it onto the tile floor. Sydney walks in behind me, naked and with a smile on her beautiful face. With her huge, perky tits out on display, I have trouble focusing on anything but her chest.

I get hard just thinking about shoving my dick between them. But I have to calm down. What we’re about to do is not about sex. It’s about getting

to know each other.

She steps into the double shower, tiled from floor to ceiling, and turns the knobs for each shower head, feeling the water with her hand as she adjusts the temperature. At least we both can fit inside.

I guess that’s one nice perk about Sydney being loaded. She already has her own money and all the luxuries that come with it. Sydney will never be dependent on me. I had enough of the freeloading wanna-be baby mamas to last a lifetime before Sydney had come along. Her independence is a nice change of pace from the norm.

Once I get in with her, Sydney presses her palm to my chest, pushing me beneath the water. She reaches up and tries to rub shampoo in my hair, but I’m too tall, which causes her to smear some of it down the side of my face.

She chuckles, her laughter contagious, because the two of us stand there, looking at each other, laughing. “You look even sexier when you’re wet, big guy. I’m glad we’re doing this. Together.”

“So am I.” It’s the truth. “But you missed a spot,” I tell her, taking the glob of shampoo from my face and rub it into her hair.

She tilts her head back, allowing the water to wash over her, the soap sliding down her chest. “Who knew taking a shower with you could be so fun?” The corners of her mouth turn up into a smile that mirrors mine.

“I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

I help Sydney wash her hair, digging my fingers through her curls. After we’re done, I take the body wash from the ledge, soap up the loofa, and rub it over her chest.

“Start talking,” she says, staring up at me with big, blue eyes that look right through me.

She’s known all along that I’ve been hiding something and has called me on out my shit. Little did I know this dark-haired vixen would steal my heart. Sometimes, people take you by surprise, and Sydney is one of them.

“Okay.” I suck in a deep breath and let it out, preparing myself for her reaction. “The first tattoo on my back. I got that one for my mother. She was killed in a car accident when I was nine years old.”

Her eyes and mouth widen in shock. She clamps her hand down on my forearm. “I’m so sorry, Carter.”

“It’s okay. My mom died a long time ago. I barely remember her at this point. She called me her little cub, which is the reason I have a cub inside the jigsaw piece. Her death was the moment it all started for me. When she would put me to sleep at night, my mom would kiss me on the forehead and whisper, Sleep, my little cub. As the years went by, I stopped remembering certain things about her, but I never forgot what she’d said to me at night. My sister had taken over after my mom was gone for a while. I was almost a teenager by the time Jenny stopped tucking me in every night.”

Sydney wipes the corner of her eye. It’s hard to tell with the water hitting her face, but I think she’s crying. I pull her against my chest and wrap my arms around her. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m fine. I survived. That’s all that matters.”

“Why are you like this, Carter?” She chokes out. “If it’s not your mother, then why?”

“It was everything that happened after her death.” Loosening my grip on her, I turn around, so she can get a better view of my back. I reach over my shoulder and point to the second tattoo. “I got this one because of my father.”

“What kind of birds are these?”

“Ravens. They symbolize death.”