Page 55 of Dirty Salvation

Next came her other arm, down across her chest and belly, up around her neck, more fruit scented soap poured into his hands, he stroked them together forming a sudsy lather before he went down on his haunches. He never thought the next time he saw Zara naked she'd be a shaking mess, or that he'd be touching her so carefully, afraid to hurt her without a hint of desire.

The fantasies he'd had about her this week were so far X-rated it was a wonder he could pull on his jeans most mornings, his dick ached morning till night, and having her sleeping in his bed did nothing to dampen that lust.

And yet the water fell over them, and he was far from thoughts of fucking her.

There was no sexual frisson in the way Rider tended to Zara when his hand slid between her legs, he was a dirty bastard, not a pig, and his girl was hurting.

He let his fingers stroke with the soap washing in between her legs without even a whimper of protest from her, Zara was so far gone she allowed his care, down her thighs and back up again, only the noise of the water was the backdrop to this harrowing scene, he felt his belly roll over with anger at just how fucking dead he was going to make that piece of shit Hades when he found him.

Death was too quick, too easy for him, but he'd rip him limb from limb for starters, feed his innards to the wild cats up in the mountains, he'd give him every second of pain and torture Zara had felt under his hands tenfold and more.

His poor sweet Icy. Where had she gone? Fuck, she was killing him bit by bit.

He rose, looked her long in the face, her eyes vacant.

Without thinking about the action, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, cuddled her into his body for a moment. "It's gonna be okay, Icy. You believe me? I'll make this okay for you." Rider took particular care around her cheeks, caressing over the bruises. Her back was marred with old scars.

He was murderous.

No reply and she didn't lean into him, just stood with her mind somewhere else. Blank.

As if she'd gone somewhere else to deal with her burst emotions. The kicker? he wanted more than anything now for her to spit some of that venom at him again.

Anything but this fragile girl.

Only every few minutes during his administrations with hands and soap did he hear her hard-long inhale before her lungs deflated letting the air go on a shudder. He cocked his head up, piercing his gaze on her face.

He got back to doing what she needed from him.

"Lemme have your foot, baby." she lifted, allowing him to run his fingers up and under, over her arch, in between her toes, up her leg.

No skin was left unattended by Rider.

Putting it back to the shower floor, he stood.

She was coated in sweet scented soap, he pulled the shower head from its hook, rinsing her down, his free hand coasting her hair back tenderly. If anyone had have told him he'd be naked in a shower with Zara and wasn't fucking her stupid, his dick not even hard, he would have junk punched them for the bare faced fucking lie.

But here he was.

A lot could change in a day. Three years. A lifetime.

Now he wanted her back, the Icy he remembered.

"A-a-again" she stuttered, and his gaze flipped concerned to her face. Those wide wild eyes staring at Rider, imploring him. Nothing had hurt Rider more than the desperate look in her eyes. "I'm so soiled, Rider, I feel it on me, in me. The dirt. Please."

"Sure, baby." Voice raw. He gently palmed around the back of her head, kissed her forehead softly. "As much as you need, lemme grab more soap."

Then he started all over again. And again. And again.

Every time she issued she wasn't clean enough yet Rider snatched up the shower gel bottle. It was empty by the time he finally announced that was enough. As careful as he'd been with her she was lobster red.

Lightly wrapping her in a giant fluffy white towel, he used another on her hair. Only when Zara was dry and dressed in a rolled-up pair of his sweats and another of his black Henley's did he dry quickly and pull on his own clothes he'd picked up from the floor.

She was sat at the very edge of the bed where he’d left her, he went down on his haunches, hands braced to the comforter either side of her thighs. It said a lot that she didn't flinch from his touch.

Thank fuck. Of all things, he didn't want Zara to be afraid of him.

A repeated pound in five heavy raps on the door reared both their heads up. "Goddammit it. Fuckin', wait!" Rider rose his voice telling whoever-the-fuck it was that was so anxious for his attention to hold their goddamn motherfucking horses. "We're gonna talk in a minute, okay, baby if you're up to it?"

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