Page 43 of Web of Lies
“I'm naked.”
“Mmm,” he purrs. “I know.”
Shaun doesn't say anything else. He doesn't ask me any questions. His silence isn't uncomfortable. It's soothing. His whole presence right now is soothing and I don't think I can process that. I certainly can't tell him how good it feels for someone to hold me up instead of holding me down. He might understand, but I can't have that conversation.
Because I'm naked.
And wet.
And because he kidnapped me and you can't tell your kidnapper how good it feels to have their arms around you.
What is wrong with me?
Jesus and all the Saints.
“I'm okay now.” I tell him, lifting my weight away from him as much as I can with him still holding me.
He hesitates for a moment but slowly lets go, giving me plenty of time to reclaim and maintain my balance. “Better hurry. The water will get cold.”
He's right, even though I'm pretty sure that the hot water may be what made me dizzy in the first place. I nod and step back into the water, reaching behind me to shut the shower curtain. I close my eyes and lean my head back under the spray to re-wet my hair but they pop right back open when the curtain pulls open again. “What are you doing?” I hiss.
“Making sure you don't fall.”
“You can't watch me shower,” I argue. “You–”
“Oh,” he smirks, “I'm watching. I can't wait to see you reach for that bottle of soap.”
I scowl at him and look around the ledge of the tub for said soap. Of course it's behind me, meaning I'll have to turn around and bend over to get it. “You could get it for me. So I wouldn’t have to twist around and bend. Just in case I get dizzy again.”
“I'll do you one better, baby.”
My mouth drops open as he pulls his damp shirt over his head and strips off his jeans. Then I make a sort of shocked squawking sound as he steps into the shower with me, still wearing his very orange boxers. “What are you doing?”
“Can't let you fall, can I?” he laughs and reaches around me for the bottle of soap. “Tilt your head back.”
How did we get here? How is this my life? In the matter of a few days I've gone from a hostage situation where I was being drugged and forced to sign my life away, to a kidnapping situation where I'm naked in the shower with the man who kidnapped me washing my hair. In case I get dizzy, can't forget that part. What am I supposed to do right now? Shove him out? Then I really will fall and probably hurt both of us in the process. And why shouldn't I want to shove him out? I should shove him out. I have no business just letting him do this. Do I?
“Close your eyes.”
I do as I'm told. Sighing my resignation, I tip my head back and close my eyes so Shaun can better reach my hair. The bottle clicks open and a clean, sweet scent mixes with the warm steam. Then I sigh in pleasure as his fingers sink into my hair and begin massaging my scalp.
Washing my hair turns into washing my neck, which turns into Shaun spreading soap across my shoulders as his fingers dig into muscles I didn't realize were so sore. Warm relaxation spreads from my shoulders down to my spine and when his hands come forward to spread over my ribs, my breath leaves me in a long sigh. I haven't been touched in a long time. Not like this. Not for months. I can't help having such a strong reaction to the feel of his hands sliding across my skin.
“Feel good?” Shaun asks.
I nod, letting a groan escape as his thumbs glide on either side of my rib cage. It feels so good. It shouldn't though. It should feel terrifying. It should feel like an assault and I should tell him to stop. I should be screaming. But it feels so good to be touched, and he isn't hurting me.
“Dizzy?”
I shake my head. I'm not dizzy. I'm overwhelmed. And I don't want this to stop, even if I should. Shaun slides his palms up my sides until his fingertips are grazing the undersides of my breasts and I sigh again. “Keep going.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I let my head drop back against his shoulder and lean against his chest. Despite the hot temperature of the water, his skin is warm against mine. It doesn't matter. This situation is temporary. He can touch me and it doesn't have to mean anything. I am allowed to enjoy the way his hands feel moving higher without it meaning anything. I can shiver in anticipation as he stretches fingers, spreading them out across my breasts but not quite brushing my nipples.
“Careful,” he breathes against my ear. “You might make me think you like this.”
That's okay. Everything about this situation is so wrong and so right. I can give myself permission to like this, even if it's only for right now. “I do like it. It feels so good,” I groan, then gasp when he captures my nipples between his fingertips.
