Page 114 of Sin Like the Devil

“Christ,” she gasps.

“How’s it looking?”

“Well, your ribs and stomach look like an elephant stomped all over them. Matches your pretty purple face, though.”

“You think I’m pretty?” I cup my own cheeks.

“Get in the fucking shower, Raine.”

“You know that you have the advantage here. I’ve got no idea how rough you’re looking right now.”

I hear her step into the shower. Feeling for the entrance, I join her beneath the spray, the door sliding shut behind me. It’s a tight squeeze, forcing her bare frame to press up against me in the steam.

“Shit.” Ripley’s body leaves mine. “I’m not supposed to get my stitches wet.”

“Hold your arm above me and away from the spray.”

Shifting, her breasts push into my chest as she finds the right position. My hands locate her hips, perfectly curved and slippery with warm water. Anyone would think that I’m dead inside not to be turned-on right now.

But this isn’t about fooling around. As tempting as the slick heat of her body moving against mine is, I just want to take care of her. Beyond anything physical, I need her to know that she’s going to be okay.

We both will be.

I’ll make sure of it.

“Looks like I’m on cleaning duty. Pass the body wash?”

After twisting away from me again, Ripley curls my hand to place a plastic bottle in it. “I’m an arm down. Sorry.”

“It is a hardship, having to lather you up.”

The familiar, heady scent of papaya fills the shower as I spread body wash between my palms. Ripley holds still, letting me slowly run my hands all over her generous curves, ensuring every inch I locate is thoroughly lathered.

What feels like her forehead rests on my chest, just below my clavicles. I can tell by the wet tickle of her hair on my pectorals. My cock twitches, suddenly paying attention. She lets me massage every part of her before I begin to sluice the bubbles off.

“Feel good?”

“Mmm,” she groans unintelligibly.

“Don’t fall asleep on me. Where’s your shampoo?”

Her head briefly lifts. “Here.”

Once she’s slumped back onto my chest, I move my attention to her hair. Washing someone else without a visual frame of reference takes a lot of trial and error. Ripley doesn’t complain when I attempt to shampoo her face twice before eventually finding her hair.

The wet curls slide between my fingertips like reams of fine silk. I’ve been a scents and textures kinda guy since losing my vision. The details that are insignificant to everyone else can hold all of my attention.

Without any distractions, I can take my time memorising every inch of Ripley’s topography. The small, rounded peaks of her ears. How her curls spring back even when wet. Her slim shoulders and the pronounced divots in her spine.

She lets me drink my fill, content to rest against me and enjoy the attention I’m lavishing her body with. Proportionally, she’s everything I find attractive in a woman. But it’s her spirit that makes her stunning.

Once she’s thoroughly washed, I hold her close beneath the spray. I’m debating how I’ll wrestle her sleepy body out of the shower without us both faceplanting when she sighs, her lips puckering against my throat.

Small, open-mouthed kisses spread across my collarbones. Exploring and leaving a static charge in their wake, her lips retreat before pushing against mine. I return the kiss, magnetised by the draw of her skin against mine, holding me steady in the world.

“Rip,” I murmur. “You’re hurt.”

Breaking the kiss, she touches the back of my hand then guides it down to cup her tight ass. Well, shit.

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