Down and Out(90)

She places her hand over mine, closing her eyes as she absorbs my touch. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

? ? ?
After I put my phone on vibrate and set it on my nightstand, I check on Savannah. She’s sitting in the tubful of water with her knees drawn to her chest, her hair piled high in a clip, and my eyes instinctually take in all the smooth, pale skin before me. I feel like a dick for noticing her nakedness at all, especially at a time like this, but I can’t help it.
I have two functioning eyes and a penis. I blame them.
Turning off the water, I close the lid on the toilet and sit on it, resting my elbows on my knees. Savannah drapes her arms around her legs and rests her chin on her shoulder as a weak smile touches her lips. “Hi.”
I’m so ridiculously glad she can smile at all after the shit she’s been through. My girl is so f*cking strong. Pride swells in my chest as I stare down at her, and no matter how much I might abhor the thought of her physically fighting some other girl, I have faith that she’s going to do just fine.
My girl’s a born fighter, in every sense of the word.
“Hi,” I say, smiling back. It’s small, but genuine, and that’s a good step. Twenty minutes ago, I was sure I’d never smile again.
She looks at me quizzically when I stand and start to shrug out of my jeans, then she glances around her. “I don’t think there’s room for both of us.”
“That’s not what I had in mind,” I say, leaving my boxers on as I shuck off my jeans. I grab a washcloth off the towel rack and her body wash from the shower caddy.
“Can you use yours instead?”
Her shy voice has me pausing and looking down at her. Savannah shrugs and says, “It smells like you. It’s comforting.”
Geez, right in the feels. Have I mentioned how much I love, love, love this girl?
I put her body wash back and grab mine instead. “Turn around,” I say, waiting until her back is to me before I step into the warm water and sit down on the bathtub’s ledge.
I dunk the washcloth in the water and gently wet her back with it, then her shoulders. Squirting some soap onto the washcloth, I lather it up and start cleaning her.
She makes a satisfied humming sound as I work, closing her eyes as she leans her head forward. When she’s nice and soapy, I set the washcloth aside and use my hands instead, gliding over the soft, creamy skin beneath my fingers.
“I used this sometimes when we weren’t talking. It made me feel close to you, even though we were anything but.” She leans her head back and looks up at me. “Is that weird?”
Kissing her forehead, I run my hands down her arms. “Do you think it’s weird that I used your shampoo? Because I did. I might’ve even jacked off once or twice in the shower while smelling it and thinking of you.”
Her smile widens. “That last part’s a little weird, but also kinda sweet.”
“Weirdly sweet is what I aim for.”
Picking up the washcloth, I finish cleaning her back and arms, even getting up in her armpits. She squeals with laughter, splashing water everywhere as she tries to get away from me. My only response is that I need to be thorough. When her back’s all rinsed off, I tell her to stand up and face me.
My eyes wander over her naked body, glistening with water as it drips down her. She’s put on some muscle since she’s started training with Marcus, and she looks good. Damn good. There’s not a single thing I see that’s less than absolute perfection.
Swallowing, I drop my eyes to the washcloth in my hand.
I want her. After everything I’ve learned tonight, and I still want her. I always will.
Part of me feels like I shouldn’t, like it’s not appropriate to have these thoughts and urges about someone who’s been through what she has. . .
I don’t know. I don’t know what to think right now.
Clearing my throat, I scoot back and tap the sliver of ledge peeking out between my thighs. “Put your foot here.”
I wash her legs one at a time, pausing momentarily when I get to the upper part of her inner thighs. There’s still evidence of our previous activity in small, dried-on patches that haven’t quite come off in the water. Seeing it is like getting shot in the heart. I hate that something so significant happened under what I now consider ugly, tainted circumstances.
“Sorry,” I say, glancing up at her apologetically before gently scrubbing her clean.
She threads her fingers in my hair as I make a careful pass between her legs with the washcloth. “It’s not your fault. I told you not to stop,” she says, lazily playing with my hair. “At the time, I honestly didn’t care whether you came in me or not, so long as you didn’t stop.”
Setting her foot back in the water, I continue washing up her front. “You cared before. Do you care now?”
She shrugs. “My period’s supposed to start within the next day or two, so I shouldn’t be able to get pregnant now. I just didn’t want to take any chances, you know?”
“Do you regret it?” I ask, stealing a quick glance at her face while I wash her stomach. I don’t think I can bear to see her expression if she says yes, so I look back to the stretch of skin in front of me. It’s safer.
Savannah’s hands slip from my hair down to under my chin, tilting it up until I meet her eyes. “Not for a second,” she says. “Do you?”
I shrug and let my hands fall to her hips. “I don’t like the way it happened, but I like that it did.”
She slips her fingers back into my hair, making a little sigh of contentment leave me as I pull her close and touch my head to her stomach. “I’ve never let anyone do that before,” she says softly.