Page 13 of Reconciling the Consequences

He let it go, though. He would have to be patient with her. He would need to work to get back into her good graces, because there was one thing he knew for sure:he was not done with Kara Carmichael.

He would never be done with Kara Carmichael.

Karaclosedhereyesand let the warm water cascade over her. She didn’t want to think about the kiss with Johnny. Didn’t want to think about any possible future with him. She was still hurt, and they needed time to work shit out.

She also didn’t think about the fact that he was naked and standing three feet from her under the other showerhead in the large shower.

He had claimed he didn’t want her to slip on the tile. She had to hand it to him: he was a crafty one. The fact that her dominant hand was in a cast and bag and shouldn’t get wet didn’t help either. Thankfully the cut on her left arm was healed enough that she could get the stitches damp in the shower. It might have been her better arm, but the ribs on her left side were broken, and the skin stitched from the chest drain. It hurt like a bitch to raise her left arm up to try and wash her hair… she wasn’t quite as able to clean herself as she had first assumed.

She was trying to ignore Johnny though. The rage that had simmered in Johnny’s blue eyes had set her heart racing. She had had to look away from him. She’d walked into the large shower to distract herself. Now, she was almost frightened what she might find if she did meet his gaze.

So, she asked him something she had thought about since the day she’d first met him. “Why do they call you Mayhem?”

She opened her eyes and immediately wished she hadn’t. Water sluiced over his rock-hard muscles, and his blue eyes were hooded and dark, sensual as he watched her. His cock stood unabashedly at attention, hard as a rock.

An amused smirk tugged at his lips as he watched her blatant perusal of his body. She didn’t care, he had been hers at one point. Was still hers? She didn’t care about the specifics; she was more interested in his story.

“Not much of a story.” He shrugged, his voice deep. “I used to be a little more into causing as much mayhem as possible everywhere I went.”

Kara frowned; she didn’t see it. He was usually so in control of himself. Aside from the night he lashed out at her, he typically was pretty calm and collected. For as much shit as he gave her about being in control of her emotions, he usually had a pretty tight lid on things.

She let it go, though. She turned away from him and reached for her bottle of shampoo. As she turned, her foot slipped and she started to fall. “Shit.” She shrieked as she started going down.

She never fell. Johnny’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her tightly against him. His arms were like vise grips around her waist. Her head rested against his chest. Her heart pounded. She felt like she’d seen her life flash before her eyes.

“You OK?” he grumbled.

She nodded shakily and held onto his arms. “Thank you.”

He squeezed her tighter in response. Thankfully he didn’t say “I told you so.”

She stayed in his arms for a while before he turned her. Now that her breath was evening out, her ribs were screaming in agony. The almost fall must have jostled them.

“Come on,” he muttered. “I’ll wash your hair.”

She closed her eyes and let him. In the end, he washed her hair twice at her instruction before he put conditioner in and let it sit for a while. He moved on to washing her body with her loofa. He was extra gentle around her bruises and stiches but still got in there and got most of the glue off from all the tape she’d been using.

When she had rinsed her hair and body and was finally done, she continued to stand in the warm water. “Come on,” he said and shut off the water on his side of the shower. There was enough space between them that when he pulled his towel from the glass door, he could dry off without getting wet again.

Kara sighed and waited until he had a towel around his waist. Then he grabbed another fluffy towel and held it out for her. She shut the water off quickly and wrung the extra water from her hair.

Johnny came up behind her and wrapped her in the warm towel. He enfolded her in his arms and held her tight. She closed her eyes and savored the feeling. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her neck, going straight for the sweet spot that all three of them zoned in on.

She did her best to ignore his lingering. She wasn’t ready to forgive him yet. “What am I going to wear?” she asked him.

“You can wear one of my shirts and boxers for now. Then we could head over to your place and grab as much as we can,” he suggested.

She nodded slowly. “How bad is my house, Johnny?” she asked the question that had been burning through her mind.

“It’s not horrible,” he responded, meeting her gaze tentatively in the mirror.

She deflated. “But it’s bad?” she concluded, reading between the lines.

He nodded sympathetically. “It’s not livable. Most of the back half of the house was destroyed, your office, the guest bedrooms, your kitchen. I’ve had men stationed there, so nothing should be missing beyond what the fire destroyed.”

“My bedroom?” she asked, feeling hopeful.

He nodded. “Mostly untouched. The walls are pretty black—the ceiling was on fire in there. Everything was wet at some point or still is from the hoses, but I’m sure a lot of your clothes are still alright.”

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