Page 14 of Making the King

I let out a humorless laugh. “No one had to tell me, Rochus. I was there, holding her as her life literally bled out of her.”

“What?”

Rolling my eyes, I continue. “She was in prison for killing her husband, and we served our sentences together.”

I watch as Rochus opens and closes his mouth several times. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, still holding his hand over where I kicked him.

“Fuck. I should have kept an eye on her,” he says, sounding like he feels… responsible.

Now I’m the one who’s lost for words. Why does he even care? He only saw her once, when he married me.

“Whatever,” I sniff disdainfully. “She wasn’t yours to look after.”

“Maybe not, but—”

“No buts,” I hiss. “Just fucking drop it.”

He runs a hand through his short, dark hair. “Fine,” he spits back. “But I still want you to take a goddamn shower and put on some clean clothes.”

At the mention of a shower, my hands begin to shake. I ball them into fists to stop it, which doesn’t help. So I end up hiding them behind my back.

“Unless you want me to kick you again, you better rethink that,” I hiss.

He holds his hands up. “Yeah, whatever. Look, I get you don’t want to go into the bathroom, so I have an idea.”

I arch my eyebrow, silently asking him to elaborate.

“Follow me.” That’s all he says before spinning around.

Doing as he says, I trail after him and follow him through the back door out into the laundry area and small garden.

Pointing at the hose attached to the tap in the wall, he says, “There. If you don’t want to go into the bathroom, you need to shower out here.”

“Absolutely not,” I hiss. “I’m not going to—”

“Enough!” he barks. “I didn’t fucking touch you while you were sleeping, and I’m not going to perv on you either. You can keep your underwear on for all I fucking care.”

While I contemplate the compromise, he walks back inside. I’m still busy mulling the idea over when he returns with soap, shampoo, conditioner, a towel, and some clean clothes.

“Have at it,” he grins, slamming the door after him as he disappears again.

I tentatively move over to the hose while trying to gauge if he can see me from the window, and if any of the neighbors can watch me. Since I can’t be sure, I decide to take his advice and keep my bra and panties on.

Showering in your underwear isn’t as easy as it sounds, and it doesn’t even feel like I’m getting completely clean. It’ll have to do though.

I swear I hear Rochus laugh as I switch on the tap, spraying myself in the ice cold water from the hose. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than going into the bathroom. In record time, I wash my hair and as much of my body as I can.

Afterward, I use the towel he left for me to dry, and then to hide my naked body as I strip out of the drenched underwear. Though it’s awkward, I manage to put on the fresh bra and panties underneath the towel.

I get dressed in the black jeans and purple tee Rochus left for me. It fits like a glove, but is nowhere near as comfortable as my leather stuff. I need to get my hands on some money so I can buy more because that shit is all I want to wear.

Looking down at myself, I can’t help smiling at the purple. It’s so unlike me that it makes me want to laugh. The only time I’ve ever had purple anything was… oh, right. The highlights I had when we got married. Does he think I like purple? Or is this a coincidence?

Wait, didn’t he say someone else had picked out my clothes? I know it shouldn’t matter either way, yet I think I like the idea of him picking this specifically for me.

Rocco

The way Cara Rodríguez sways her hips when she walks should be fucking illegal. How does a nineteen-year-old know how to do that? Is it a natural progression into womanhood, to just instinctively know how to capture a man’s attention with something as simple as walking?

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