Page 44 of After Our Kiss

- Chapter Fifteen -

Georgia Mary King

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They locked me in my room for three days after my escape attempt.

Conway brought me food and water, but that was all. He wouldn't look at me. He wouldn't say a sentence. I didn't mind. I didn't know what to say to him, either.

But on day four, a problem arose.

I was starting to stink.

Conway had brought me a small bucket with a sponge, cold water and some weak soap before. Apparently my escape attempt had forbidden that luxury. “Conway,” I said, jumping up when he finally opened the door. He was carrying a paper plate with a peanut butter sandwich. Not looking at me, he set it on the floor. “Conway, wait! I need something!”

He paused with his hand on the knob. “What?”

“A shower. A bath. Fuck, toss me in the ocean, just anything so I can get cleaned up.”

Pressing his lips together, he slid his eyes over me. My heart spun under his hard stare.

“Please,” I said, putting my hands together.

“You're nice when you want something, hmm?”

I faltered. “I'm...”

“Tempted to hit me with a witty comeback. I know. Swallow your pride and ask me properly for what you want.”

Tightening my jaw, I approached him carefully. My hands stayed in front of me, and I did my best demure princess face—head tilted down, wide eyes fluttering up at him. He wanted me to play this game? Fine. “Please,pleaselet me have some soap. It's getting really bad.”

Conway sighed. The corner of his smile lit up my spirit. “Alright. Come with me.” He started out the door then paused. “If you try anything reckless, you won't just be locked in. You'll be tied down. Understand?”

Touching my wrists like the plastic straps were still there, I shuddered. “Got it.”

****

He led me to a bathroom deep in the house. A single droplet of water tapped in the huge copper basin over and over. The whole place echoed with our movements. When he turned on the lights, it felt more pleasant. Then he ran the water; the hot steam made the room damn near romantic.

The sound of the water running kept us silent. When it was done, and the tub was full, I glanced at him. “Yes,” he said calmly, “I'll be staying.”

Glowing pink, I shrugged stiffly. “Fine. You've seen me naked, who cares?” I cared. Stripping for Conway wasn't old news; I could count on one hand the number of people who'd ever seen me naked.

I'd only managed two brief relationships as an adult. And only one of those had turned into sex, thanks to me being “tired” of feeling broken. That encounter hadn't fixed me, and I'd been stupid to think it would.

Shoving my clothes into a pile, I faced the tub. I was overtly aware of every round shape my body created. On locked knees I climbed in, catching my wobbly reflection in the water.

“Ah,” I groaned, my toes sinking in, then my knee. “This feelsamazing.”The water sizzled up my lower half, erasing aches and pains and weeks of sweat. When I was lying in the basin up to my neck, I dared to glance at Conway.

He was eating me up with his eyes. He caught me watching, and to my shock, he looked away. “Here,” he said, offering me a small square of white soap in one hand, a cloth in the other. As I took them, I brushed his left pinky. The indent where his skin had been removed drew me in.

What happened to him?I could see his old injuries, but they couldn't speak for him.

He wrenched away, facing the wall again.

Using the dried piece of soap, I scrubbed my scalp. The suds were exquisite. I washed myself until my skin buzzed, scraping like I could escape this place by removing my physical body in layers.

Conway hovered by the door. It reminded me of when he'd guarded me at the rest stop. He'd tried to keep me from causing trouble, and I'd still managed. “About what happened,” I said, searching for the right words.

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