Page 101 of Tall, Royal Hater
“Why are you making that face?” he asked.
I kept my eyes locked on his to stop myself from looking at the rivulets of water shaping the indents of muscle on his arms,but I was fighting a losing battle. “Why are you in the bathtub?” I said accusingly with an averted glance to the patterned tattoo banding the very top of his right arm. I gritted my teeth as warmth rocked through me.
Why? Why? Why? Why couldn’t he have just been short and snotty and weird?
I’d always hated how attractive Shehryar was. Built like a warrior, always dressed as a businessman, with the protective instincts of a trained soldier, morals of a ladies’ man, and forever stoic and broodingly mysterious until I got to him. Those things had always rubbed in the wrong way, but now that I knew he talked dirty like a thug and fucked like a pleasure Dom, it was making everything about him stand out in a different way, and it was becoming harder not to notice…him.
Notin any way other than he still irritated me and I didn’t like him…but still.
“To wash off,” he said.
His foot nudged the side of my arse, and I glared down in disgust at the water, then at him. The corner of his mouth lifted so subtly I almost missed it as he tipped his face up to the bright light.
Did he do that on purpose? As like a joke? Him?
I eyed him in the way a cat investigated something new and unfamiliar. “And you couldn’t have washed off in your own room or in the shower?”
There was everything a bathroom could possibly require in the elegant cream and gold ensuite attached to my room. Including a very spacious corner shower made entirely of glass panels.
“I would have had to go to my room and wait for the bath to fill. Whereas this saves both time and water.” His lashes dropped as he dipped one hand under the bubbly surface and let a stream of droplets trickle off his fingers. “This is far more relaxing than a shower too. And I needed it.” There was an undercurrent to thelast bit that I couldn’t decipher in the two beats of quiet before he started talking again. “And I haven’t finished taking care of you.” Both his hands went into the water.
I jumped when his fingers touched my ankle and quickly tore my legs back. “What are you doing?”
He scowled tiredly. “Give me your foot.”
“Why?”
“You’ll find out.” He leaned forward, swatting his hands through the water.
When he touched my ankle again, there was nowhere for me to go, and I was forced to stiffen my muscles to stop him from pulling my leg towards him. “Tell me first.”
He gave one hard tug, and I slipped towards him in the tub. Panic exploded through my chest. I flung my hands out, grabbing onto the edges of the ceramic to prevent myself from drowning. Water rocked back and forth between us, splashing up against my neck.
“Shehryar,” I snapped, wriggling my ankle in his grip.
There was a complacent tilt to his small smile as he gestured with his chin towards me. “Lean back and relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”
I didn’t lean back, and I refused to relax. But under the water, he started kneading the pads on his thumbs around my ankle and up the sides of my calves and holding on to my frustration felt like trying to build a sandcastle with dry sand. Even as he watched me closely as if to guess from my reactions how he was doing, the tension melted off my shoulders like butter.
“Relax,” he said again, working his thumbs down to the heel of my foot. Realising there was no judgement in his voice, I shuffled back against the tub and allowed my body to sink comfortably.
Still, Shehryar was massaging my foot, and it felt weird as fuck. But the more I thought about it, the more satisfied I felt.Having Shehryar Timur, the annoying, condescending dickhead servicing me wasn’t exactly a bad thing.
“How does that feel?” he asked as he rubbed circles into the curve of my sole.
I couldn’t think of any criticism to his technique, so I opted for a quiet, snooty, “Good,” but couldn’t help adding, “So, why exactly are you doing this?”
His eyes remained trained on the water as if he could see through it to what he was doing as he said, “Because aftercare is important to me, and I enjoy it.” I sighed as he pressed against a sweet spot, and his lashes flicked up. “I was rough and crude and pushed you hard, and I want to make sure I give you the comfort you deserve after for letting me be. It doesn’t matter to me if you feel fine as it is, because it’s as much for my sake as it is for yours.”
Can’t argue with that reasoning.
“Hmm,” I hummed, then asked, “Do you do this a lot?”
I didn’t know what possessed me to say it, but I stiffened with regret instantly.
I sounded like I cared if he did. And I didn’t.I fucking didn’t.I didn’t!
But he didn’t pick up on it as he pinched and rubbed each of my toes in turn. The ticklish sensation made me squirm. “If you’re asking if I have a lot of sex, the answer is no,” he said matter-of-factly. “I don’t always care to find someone or have the time when I’m working. Esmeralda is my main priority. Unless there’s a break in her schedule or I meet a woman wherever we are, I don’t bother.”
