Page 115 of Distortion
Maybe he’s finally decided that Daisy isn’t his sister after all.
11
DAISY
Ipeer at Shade a little nervously as he closes the door. Will he be angry about what he saw? I don’t want to care, but the truth is that his opinion was the only one I cared about for a very long time.
‘I drew you a bath,’ he says.
I look down at the water. ‘You aren’t going to drown me in it, are you?’
He stifles a laugh. ‘I wasn’t planning on it.’
I let him take the blanket away. He’s already seen me arguably in flagrante. Being naked in front of him doesn’t seem to matter after what he just saw Mav and Blake doing.
He helps me step into the tub.
‘Temperature alright?’
I nod.
‘I can do this myself, you know,’ I mutter
‘I know,’ he says easily as I lower myself into the steamy water. ‘I wanted to make sure you’re okay after that. Those two can be a little intense. And I’m guessing you’re not exactly experienced.’
I snort. ‘Perhaps what I lack in that area I make up for in enthusiasm.’
‘I’m being serious, Daisy. They didn’t coerce you into any of that, right? You were willing?’
I tilt my head and look up at him. ‘What would you do if I wasn’t?’
‘I don’t know exactly. But it wouldn’t be pretty.’
I stare at his face, glancing into his eyes for longer than I’m usually able to allot. He looks as if he means it, but he’s Jack Novelle,The Third. He grew up in nice places, going to country clubs and soirees for the wealthy. Can I see him doing violence?
Maybe it’s because I know he got into some fights when we were kids on my behalf, but I can.
‘But they’re your friends.’
‘It wouldn’t matter.’
My lip curves upwards. ‘Same old protective Shade.’
He frowns. ‘Not quite. Lean back.’
I do as he says, at ease with him the way I used to be. He wets my hair and puts the shampoo in. He massages my scalp and uses the showerhead to rinse. And then he puts in the conditioner, which is a luxury I was denied for a long time. At The Heath, shower time was capped at two minutes. After that, they made the water go cold. I sit up when he’s finished and he hands me some soap.
‘Don’t want to do that as well?’ I ask a little sarcastically.
His grin is dark. ‘Not tonight.’
I wash myself while he watches, keeping the soap away from my grazes as best I can, and although he doesn’t touch me again, it’s oddly erotic. When I’m finished and I get to my feet, that same feeling as before courses through my abdomen. What did Blake call it?
Hot and bothered.
Shade envelopes me in a fluffy towel and begins to dryme. His movements are matter-of-fact, and his hands don’t veer intoinappropriateterritory.
But how appropriate is any of this?
