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His chin jerked back.“No.”He snarled a little, then his hand lifted to my hair.

I flinched.And why the hell had I asked what he saw when he looked at me?I didn’t care anymore, right?

“I’m not gonna hurt you.”His big chest expanded.“You have to know that?”His hand still hovered in the air, and he reached out again, like he was holding out his fingers for a wild dog to sniff.I held perfectly still as he touched my hair.“You got blood all in this pretty hair of yours,” he said, surprising me, then did that jaw-tightening thing he seemed to do a lot around me.

Was he remembering the last time he’d seen me with blood in my hair?

“We need to wash it out.”He stood abruptly.

“Wedon’t need to do anything.I’ll wash it later.”

He shook his head, a stubborn look on his face.“Can’t fucking look at all that blood in your hair.We’re doing it now.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but he was already shoving the covers back and scooping me out of bed.“Put me down.We’re not doing this.”

“Yeah?”He flashed his sharp canines.“Who’s gonna stop me?”

He strode into the bathroom, turned on the shower, then shrugged off his leather cut, revealing all that defined, muscled skin decorated with tattoos.

That’s when I realized I was in only a T-shirt, one he’d obviously taken from my drawer when we got here.

“You took my clothes off,” I accused.

He shrugged.“Needed to see what the damage was.”

“You saw me naked?”

His eyes flicked down to mine.“So?”

My face flushed hot.He’d seen the scars; every single slice The Chemist had made in my flesh.Jagger had just gotten an up-close-and-personal look at them, and if he hadn’t already stomped on my ego enough to crush me, that would have done it.Nice to have confirmation of just how much the mate that the fates had chosen for me didn’t want me.My naked body incited nothing more than a shrug.Awesome.I guess, that was better than all-out revulsion.

Jagger stepped unceremoniously under the cool spray, still holding me to him.I shrieked, and he shushed me impatiently, then cradling me in his huge arms, he maneuvered me so my head was under the water.

I lay there, stunned, confused, and despite his indifference to me, aroused as he gently slid one of his large hands over my scalp, feeling for the eggs there and being super careful as he washed blood out of my hair.

A deep rumbling sound rolled from his chest, and I sucked in a breath.The sound was one of satisfaction.I didn’t need to be a hound to recognize that.He was utterly focused on his task, like it was the most important thing he’d done, and would ever do in his life.My head tingled as he continued to work his thick fingers through my hair.

Finally, he switched off the water and, still holding me in his arms, stepped out of the shower, before roughly rubbing a towel over my body.

“Lift your arm.Need to get this shirt off.”

“What?No.”

“Seen it all before, Sutton.I’ll close my eyes if you’re that worried.”Then he carefully eased my injured arm out of the wet shirt, while I complained and struggled uselessly, before whipping it over my head, and yes, his eyes were closed as he rubbed the towel across my chest and down my back, drying the rest of me.He reached back without looking and grabbed the shirt I’d left in here that morning, then carefully pulled it over my head.It was the shirt he’d given me several months ago, when I’d cried that he was leaving.I hated thinking about that now.Loathed it.

I’d also been wearing it when I’d run out the next morning and thrown myself at him, when we’d kissed.No, when I’d kissed him.He’d made sure I didn’t get that part wrong, hadn’t he?I didn’t want to think about that either.

Then I was up again, ensconced in his arms, so he could carry me back to bed.

He laid me down, dragged up the covers, then disappeared into the bathroom.When he returned, a towel hugged his waist, his wet jeans discarded.“You got a dryer?”

Holy hell.I mean, I’d seen him naked less than an hour ago, but I’d been more than a little distracted.His huge frame seemed to crowd my small bedroom.He was basically naked again, and utterly beautiful.I didn’t know where to look.“Ground floor, room off the kitchen.”

He strode out, down to the laundry room I assumed, then was back again a few minutes later.He went back into the bathroom, then came out carrying another dry towel.

He was headed straight for me.“What are you doing?”

Jagger climbed on the bed, the towel around his hips splitting open dangerously, not that he seemed to care—and pulled me closer so he could use the dry one to wring the water out of my hair.He squeezed it gently, removing the excess moisture, and as he did, he made another one of those satisfied sounds.“So fucking pretty.Love this hair.”