Page 98 of Property of Tacoma
She smiles softly at him. “Always, honey. Always.”
Once he’s gone, I turn my attention to my woman.
She’s covered in blood.
“Come on, baby,” I say, holding out my hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up, too.”
She takes my hand and rises from the chair, and I thread my fingers through hers as I lead her out of the office and up the stairs.
At the end of the hallway, I open the door to my room and motion for her to go ahead.
She steps inside, the stain of the day clear as day on her face.
“You okay, Angel?”
She smiles up at me with tired eyes. “The adrenaline’s worn off.”
I nod, understanding how she feels.
“Come on, baby.”
Like her feet are filled with lead, she follows me into the bathroom.
Reaching into the shower, I turn on the water and adjust the temperature.
While the water heats, I spin around to face her. Slowly, reverently, I reach for the hem of her blood-soaked shirt.
“Arms up,” I murmur.
She obeys, lifting her arms, and I peel the shirt off her body, tossing it aside.
Her bra is next, then her boots and leather pants, my hands gentle as I help her step out of them.
Finally, her panties, until she’s standing before me completely bare.
“Your turn,” she says softly.
I strip quickly, tossing my clothes onto the growing pile, then hold out my hand.
She takes it, and I lead her into the shower.
The hot water cascades over us, and I watch as it turns pink, washing away the evidence of what she did today.
“I owe you everything,” I rasp, grabbing the body wash.
Lathering the suds in my hands, I begin washing her.
I start with her face, carefully cleaning away the dry blood splattered across her cheeks and forehead.
Then her neck, her shoulders, down her arms.
I turn her around and wash her back, taking my time, making sure every inch of her is clean.
When I reach her ass, she lets out a small gasp as my hands slide over the firm globes.
“Easy, Angel,” I murmur. “Let me take care of you.”
I turn her back around and soap up my hands again, this time focusing on her breasts.
