Page 7 of Chased & Bred by the BRATVA
The ensuite bathroom is dimly lit, tiles warm beneath our feet. Steam immediately starts to curl from the rainfall showerhead as I twist the dial until the temperature is just right, the spray pounding against the marble like the drum of a slow storm.
She stands there blinking, disoriented, vulnerable.
And fuck me if that doesn’t make her even more beautiful.
“Lift your arms,” I say gently.
She hesitates for a second, then does as she’s told.
I peel the dress off her slowly, revealing inch after inch of flushed, perfect skin. There’s a streak of dried blood on her thigh where she must have scraped herself in the woods. Dirt clings to her calves and her knees and the palms of her hands are badly scraped. The curve of her hip is already mottled with bruises from our earlier collision. There are bruises on her knees, her forearms.
She is glorious.
Not polished or clean. Not posed like the women who are usually trying to tempt men like me.
She is wrecked and radiant.
She is mine.
I toss the dress aside and guide her into the shower, before stripping and stepping in behind her.
She gasps at the warmth, then sighs as the water pours down over her hair and shoulders. Her eyes close. I watch it all, the way her lashes clump together, the way the dirt runs in rivulets over her body and vanishes down the drain.
I reach for the soap.
My hands move slowly. Reverently. I smooth the lather over her back, her arms, down her spine. Her breathing deepens. She doesn’t move away. When I crouch behind her and begin carefully washing her legs, she rests one hand on my shoulder to keep steady.
There’s a long graze just above her knee, angry and red.
“This from the chase?” I ask, glancing up at her.
She shakes her head. “I jumped out of the car. Didn’t look first. Just...” She offers a shrug, her meaning clear.She didn’t have a choice.
“What happened?”
She laughs, low and tired. “I thought it was a rideshare. I was drunk and stupid and pissed that my friends had all disappeared on me.Again. They’re the ones who wanted to go out for my birthday. I was happy to go to a restaurant or something, but they insisted.”
My blood begins to boil. Her friends abandoning her, some creep making her feel scared enough to jump from a moving car. Then I made her run through the woods because I was bored.
“I’m glad you found me though,” she finally adds, tipping her head back and letting the water run over her face.
“Is that so,” I say, then rise to my feet.
I shift the water down to a lighter spray and help her turn so I can wash the front of her. Her chest lifts with each breath, nipples pebbled under the water. The soap glides across her skin, catching on the dips and curves I haven’t had nearly enough time to worship yet.
She is softness and heat and fire, wrapped in a body built for sin.
I don’t rush.
I smooth the suds over her stomach, her hips, the swell of her core. Her eyes meet mine, heavy with something I love the look of. Whatever it is, I think I might kill anyone who tries to take it from me.
“Do you know the man from the car?” I ask quietly.
She licks her lips. “No, and it wasmen, plural. Two of them.”
“Describe them to me.”
She shrugs one shoulder. “They were young, drinking, stupid. The car was the same make as that ride share company so I asked if they were there for us and got in. One of them had a scorpion tattoo on his neck.” She shudders.
