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I gentled my fingers in her hair, rubbing and soothing.“You really are perfect,” I half-growled, half-groaned.Her breasts bounced a little as she drew back, and I nodded down at her gorgeous tits and said, “Maybe next time I’ll mark you with my seed.”

I reached down to offer her my hand and she accepted it before I drew her to her feet.I held her shoulders then turned her around.“Allow me,” I said huskily.

I lathered some shampoo between my hands, then massaged it into her hair before rinsing it out and adding conditioner.Then adding some liquid soap between my palms and foaming it up, I washed her skin all over before rinsing the conditioner from her hair.

She pivoted and looked up at me as she blinked the water out of her “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Was that before or after she’d dropped onto her knees and crammed my dick in her mouth?

I cocked my head to the side.“When was I evernotnice to you?”

She bit her bottom lip.“You brought me back here as your prisoner.You can’t tell me your intentions are good.”

I flipped off the shower and stepped out onto the mat.She followed suit and I grabbed a fluffy towel and dried her off, then wrapped her inside it.“You’ll find some of your clothes in a bag inside the wardrobe.”

She nodded, then left me standing looking after her until she disappeared through the doorway and into the bedroom.I sighed, then pushed a hand through my wet hair.

What the fuck was I doing?

Chapter Fourteen

Gemma

Idragged on creamunderwear then a pair of cut-off denim shorts and a blue-green blouse that knotted at my waist and brought out the color in my eyes.I was grateful to find Evander had thought to also throw in a little bag filled with my toiletries, including my toothbrush and hairbrush.

After brushing out my hair, I pushed my feet into a comfortable pair of woolly slippers.

Bliss.

I was dressed by the time he came in with a towel slung low on his hips.I resisted licking my lips.From his corded shoulders and the dark hair that tapered from the middle of his chest down past his corded abs before arrowing beneath the knot of his towel, he was masculine perfection.

That he’d noticed my stretchmarks, my battle scars as my mom had called them, had brought back a rush of painful memories I’d managed to push into a box at the back of my mind.Now they were like open wounds once again, burning and aggravated and just waiting to hurt me all over again.

I pushed a hand over my face.Some things really were better left dead and buried.

He stilled, his eyes assessing me.“Are you all right?I-I didn’t hurt you?”