Page 30 of Magic and Matrimony

The shower is a beautiful tiled affair with multiple shower heads. Ambrose turns on the water, sticking his hand under the stream to test the temperature. I meant what I said; this is just ashower to clean up, but I’m not dead. I can’t help but watch as he pulls his shirt over his head and drops his pants.

“If you look at me like that, Piper, I might not be able to keep my promise of behaving.”

My eyes snap up to the ceiling. I lift my shirt up and groan as my muscles scream in protest. Ambrose is there in the next second, helping to guide my arms through. I try not to blush as he pulls my pants down and helps get first one foot and then the other out.

The water is perfect as we step into the shower. I close my eyes and let it rain over me and wash away the remnants of my curse. I peek out through slitted eyes as Ambrose clicks a bottle shut and then his hands are in my hair. The moan that comes out of my mouth is obscene, but the way his fingers knead my scalp as he washes my hair is incredible.

We’re face-to-face, and I reach out to hold his waist so I don’t fall forward. Ambrose doesn’t do anything except wash my hair, gently tipping my head back to rinse out the soap, and then repeating the process with conditioner. Then his hands are soaping up my shoulders and gliding down my chest, where he cups my breasts. I open one eye and lift a brow. He smiles at me.

“I’m only human.” He chuckles and continues his way down my body.

“No one has ever taken care of me like this,” I whisper.

“Good thing you’ve got an amazing husband, then,” he says as he kneels in front of me, washing my legs all the way down to my toes.

My hands are on his shoulders now, and I squeeze gently. “Yeah, I do.”

I stand under the spray while Ambrose quickly washes his own hair and the rest of his body.

“Stay there,” he says again as he shuts off the water and disappears. He returns a second later with a thick, fluffy towel.I stretch out my hand to grab it from him, but he snatches it away from me. I give up and let him dry me off, complete with squeezing the extra water out of my hair. Once he’s satisfied with his job, he finally hands over the towel. I wrap it around my body and practically sigh with relief when Ambrose wraps a towel around his waist. I don’t need to see any more of his muscled ass.

“Sit.” Ambrose leads me to a little seat that’s pushed under a vanity in the bathroom. At this point, I’ve given up trying to protest and plop down in the seat, already feeling worn out. It’s interesting because, technically, he’s giving me commands, but his intention isn’t for me to obey. I could fight him if I wanted to, but I don’t.

Ambrose produces a brush and begins untangling my long hair. I watch him in the mirror, shocked by his careful attention to everything. Even the way he’s brushing my hair is gentle, so he doesn’t pull at the snags that are absolutely still there.

“You’re good at this.”

“Odie used to make me brush her hair when we were younger. She’s kind of a diva.”

“No, she’s not.” I laugh because Odie is anything but a diva.

“Fine, it was Bram. He went through an eighties hair band phase. I got really good at combing out his teased tresses.” I watch him smile through the mirror.

I laugh. “Now I know you're lying.”

My eyelids sag, and I’m more relaxed than I can remember being in my entire life. Ambrose’s gaze finds mine in the mirror and the way he stares leaves me breathless. With a blink, he smiles and pats the top of my head.

“All set. Let’s go rot our brains with bad TV.”

I take a deep breath and shake my head to dispel the crazy direction my heart just went. Ambrose might be my husband–temporarily–but he’s not mine.

16

AMBROSE

The last three days have sucked. I don’t think I’ve ever been so worried in my entire life. Not much gets beneath my skin. Most things roll right off my back. Call me a dickhead, a loser, get up in my face and spit, and it will take a whole lot more than that to rile me up. Seeing Piper writhing in pain and not being able to do a damn thing about it was agonizing. I had to stop myself from driving over to Tucker’s to beat his ass multiple times. It doesn’t matter that this curse comes from the Briar Witch, Tucker still deserves to have his ass kicked. Not wanting to leave Piper’s side was the only reason I didn’t go.

Piper is wrapped up in one of my old t-shirts and a pair of sweats. She didn’t even blink when I handed her the clothes to put on. It’s idiotic and completely unlike me, but I needed her to wear some piece of my clothing. What happened between us the other night after the Hollows was probably a slip in her judgment. I’m not counting on it occurring again any time soon. With Piper, pressing the issue won’t do anything but make her flee, and I don’t want her to feel like she’s not safe in this house.Especially now, with everything that’s happened with the coven and her uncle.

We spend the rest of the day in bed after I put on fresh sheets. We watch terrible reality TV, nap off and on, and eat the collection of snacks I brought up. I should make Piper a full meal, but she seems to be limiting herself to crackers and sports drinks. I don’t want to push anything if she’s still not feeling well.

I may not have been sick, but I’m exhausted too. My sleep was fitful at best over the past few days. As soon as I’d nod off, I’d jerk awake, afraid Piper would stop breathing. I don’t even know if that’s a justified fear, but I couldn’t stop picturing it.

Piper is snuggled under the blankets, her hands under her cheeks as I lay down next to her, the TV softly flickering in the background.

“Are you feeling better?” I murmur quietly, feeling like we’re in a little bubble that I don’t want to burst.

“Yeah, thanks to you.” Her eyes search my face, dropping to my mouth and then darting away. How I wish I could kiss her. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

---