Page 108 of Savior

A deep sigh comes from a place of unease in his chest. “Sometimes. But I fear what’ll happen if we never leave this cabin.”

I chuckle. “If we never leave this cabin, real life doesn’t have to resume.”

“That’s true,” he says, turning me back to face him before tipping my head back to rinse the suds from my hair.

I close my eyes, the feeling of the water rushing warmth through my scalp and down my spine.

“You’re so beautiful,” Luca says, his hands traveling down my neck and over my shoulders.

I open my eyes against the beads of water on my lashes.

His face is chiseled, almost stoic, but his eyes are soft and kind. They’re the warmest brown I’ve ever seen, and it’s almost like you can see the profound intelligence behind them, floating just below the surface. I’ll dream of his soft lips with the tiniest bowtie curvature long after this cabin.

I reach up, running my hand through his hair. “When did you go grey?”

He’s very young for his shiny silver hair growing off his head, and his dark eyebrows tell that he wasn’t always a silver fox.

“Early in my twenties. It’s hereditary. My dad was grey early, too.”

I nod. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him mention his father. I’ve listened to him speak to his brother and mother on thephone. They’re often calling and checking on him. They’re frustrated he won’t give them any information on what’s been going on, but doing so would put them in danger, too.

Neither of us wants that.

“Your father is gone?” I ask. He’d spoken of him in the past tense.

He nods. “Been gone awhile now.”

I don’t ask how. I don’t do too well with death. Even though I’ve witnessed much of it, it feels so ominous. It’s like a concept I’d rather ignore than let turn in my brain.

I grab the shampoo bottle and squeeze some into my hand.

Luca drops to one knee before me, allowing me to reach his hair easily.

It’s a mistake, honestly. I fumble with the shampoo when I place it back on the built-in shelving because he is close to my bare center. I can nearly feel the heat of his breath against it.

Focusing entirely on my task, I wash his hair and then step back when finished. He rinses it, and I watch as soap cascades down his spine and over the perfect mount of his ass.

Women dream of an ass like that, round and perfect.

He turns, and I flit my eyes back to where they’re supposed to be. We quickly wash and rinse, with no more banter to fill the space with words.

The heat in the shower grows exponentially overwhelming by the second, and it’s not the hot water.

When I got out and toweled off, Luca was already gone and headed for his bedroom.

Leaning over the counter and staring at myself in the hazy mirror, I heave air into my lungs.

I have to get out of here. Soon.

There isn’t much more of this I can take. Even with all the stupid things we’ve both let happen, there’s a throbbing achebetween my legs that begs for more. It begs for him to throw his life away and fuck into me to quench this hunger.

I decide to dress in running shoes and a matching top, slipping into sneakers so that I can run. I know I’ll have one of Ardesia’s men trailing me, but the sun is shining outside the cabin, and I have a feeling if I don’t soak it up, the chance will pass.

Not having an ache from dancing the night before feels weird, and I long to feel alive and thoroughly used.

The thought dies as I enter the kitchen. Luca turns, muscles rippling on his stomach, and he brings me over a plate with a bagel and a cup of coffee.

I swallow, trying not to count just how many abs are taut beneath the thin layer of dark hair littering his flesh. His low-slung pajama pants sit right above the most sinful of treasures, and I have to scold myself inwardly to turn the thoughts around.

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