Page 45 of The Bones We Break
“Now that we’ve cleared that up, be a good girl and get in the shower. I’ll fetch you some clothes.” With that I leave the bedroom to find her something to wear.
I’m so fucking wet, and it’s not from the shower.
Dean left me a hot mess in his spare bedroom and he knows it. He came back into the room with some spare clothes in his hands and a Cheshire cat grin plastered across his smug handsome face. I didn’t know whether to slap him or kiss him at that moment. I opted to do neither and waited for him to leave the room before I scuttled off down the hallway to the bathroom. The space was large and open, a black bath sat against one wall with a rainfall shower next to it, a gleaming glass shower screen wrapping around it. The sink and toilet matched the obsidian bath, and the white tiled floor practically gleamed under the spotlights from the ceiling. Everything about the space screamed man. Screamed Dean. He was the darkness and I wasn’t afraid to step into it.
Opening the glass screen, I turned the handle on the shower, instant hot water sprayed from the shower head, the steam rising in the room. Placing the clothes Dean gave me on top of the closed toilet seat I began stripping my battered, blood stained ones away from my body, leaving them in a pile on the floor until I was left standing completely bare in the centre of the bathroom. I dropped my head to look down at my body, a body I still didn’t recognise. Scars littered my skin, some adeep shade of pink. Bruises began to fade but I know they were already leaving mental wounds that I’m left to battle with on a daily basis.
I lift my forearm and slowly begin to unwrap the bandage, remembering that Doctor Morgan told me that I couldn’t get it wet. I’d have to ask Dean for a first aid kit to be able to wrap it again. The white material begins to unravel, revealing my mistakes. I couldn’t bear to look at them at the hospital but now they’re right here in front of me, almost mocking me as I lift my opposite hand to run the pads of my fingers over the small white pieces of tape that’s keeping the wound together. It stings under the pressure and I hiss through my teeth at the pain. God, I’m so fucking stupid, but in that moment it felt so right, I felt ready to let everything go and leave this place behind but then I wouldn’t be standing here in Dean’s bathroom. I wouldn’t have the chance to live my life how I want to. I’d never have been able to have Lyla in my arms again and to feel her soft nose on my skin. I would have missed out on new things and for the first time, I’m relieved that someone found me. That Dean found me.
Quickly dropping my hand from my arm, I step into the shower, the hot water immediately easing the tension that’s trapped in my body, the steam wrapping around me like a warm embrace as I tip my head back, letting the water run over my hair, droplets landing on my lashes. I simply just stand there, enjoying the warmth and the silence, letting my mind empty.
Spinning round, I find Dean’s shower gel and a sponge sitting on a small shelf that’s attached to the shower walls. I’m sure he won’t mind me using his sponge. Reaching for the black bottle, I flick the lid open before bringing it to my nose, inhaling the woodsy, leather scent that’s so perfectly Dean.
His signature smell fills my senses.
Squeezing the shower gel onto the sponge I lather it under the water until soft, white foam covers the sponge and my hands, the silky texture runs down my arms towards my elbows as I run the soft sponge across my skin, the texture is soothing as I begin to clean myself. Dean’s scent envelops me and I can almost feel his hands roam my body, the rough texture of his skin leaving goosebumps in their wake. A moan slips free as I run the sponge over my most sensitive areas. I’m desperate for him. My core aches at the thought of his strong fingers pushing inside of me.What the fuck?My mental state is clearly frazzled if I was ready to finger blast myself in this man’s shower.
The forbidden images suddenly dissipate as I hear Lyla barking down the hallway, Dean’s voice is light as he speaks to her. Quickly rinsing off, I flick off the shower and let the foam swirl around the plug hole before draining away then step onto the black bath mat that’s on the floor, the water from my body instantly soaking into the soft fabric. Wasting no time I grab a towel from the heated rail and begin to dry myself then squeeze the excess water from my hair, leaving it damp down my back. I hold out the black oversized t-shirt in front of me then slip the ultra soft material over my head, putting my arms through the sleeves that stop at my elbow, the length dropping mid thigh then lift the grey pyjama pants and push my legs inside, the waist a little big for me, forcing me to roll the material in an attempt to stop them from falling down. The last thing I need is for me to flash myself to Dean.
After dressing I spot a small cupboard under the sink and open the doors. Spare soaps, toilet rolls and other man stuff line the shelves. I scour the items until I find a small hairbrush at the back, I’m desperate to rid my hair of the tangles that I know are hidden in there. I start at the ends and work my way up until the brush glides smoothly through the strands then place the brushback where I found it.
I take a deep breath and leave the bathroom.
My stomach grumbles at the rich smell of bacon and cheese wafting from the kitchen. It’s been so long since I’ve eaten stuff like that. Even on the run from Ricky, his rules remained ingrained in my brain. I would treat myself to sweet things but then the guilt would eat me alive afterwards in case I would gain weight. Ricky wouldn’t like that. The delicious smell gets stronger the further I get into the kitchen. My bare footsteps are silent against the floor and I pause at the doorway, my eyes instantly find Dean standing over the oven, his back turned to me. He’s no longer dressed in his black cargo pants and shirt, instead black sports shorts sit on his tapered hips, the material stretching over the muscles of his thighs. My eyes trail higher. A loose muscle vest sits on his body with a Harley Davidson print on the back. My mouth instantly waters at the sight. His broad shoulders and muscular arms are covered in intricate tattoos, leading all the way to his hands, not an inch of his warm skin tone is showing. The beautiful art reaches to his neck and I can only imagine where else it leads too. I feel myself caught in a trance until Dean’s voice breaks through the haze.
“You staring at me, pretty girl?” His back still faces me, and I clear my throat and swallow, my mouth feels like I’ve eaten a ton of cotton balls.
“What? No. I’m just admiring the view of your house.” I blurt out, my face heating knowing that I’ve been caught gawking at him. He turns to face me and yep, I was right, the tattoos never end. They cover the sides of his chest and I assume, down his stomach too, from what I can see behind the loose vest, laying over him like a second skin. I quickly avert my gaze and bring my eyes back to his face, the thick, wavy black locks fall over his forehead and my fingers itch to run through the inky abyss.I tangle my fingers together to stop me from doing something stupid and pad over the kitchen island that sits in the centre of the kitchen and pull one of the tall stools out that surround the countertop to take a seat. My hands fastened together in front of me. Dean brings a hand to his hair and pushes it from his face before leaning against the countertop, and I mentally scold myself for tracking his every move.
“Feel better after a shower?” He asks so simply.
“Yes. Thank you, I appreciate you letting me do that.” I look down at his clothes on my body. “And for the clothes too.” His forest green eyes trail over my body, the heat searing into my flesh. “You look good in them. Hungry?” The words slip free from his mouth before I can really ponder on them.
“I.. er, yeah. I don’t need too much though.” What he doesn’t know is that I’m starving, my stomach is crying out for rich greasy food but all I can hear is Ricky’s voice shaming me for eating. For gaining weight and being unable to fit into my pressed cream trousers. Dean’s hard eyes land on my face, his brows creasing. “What do you mean you don’t need too much? When was the last time you ate?” He tips his head, the questions hanging in the air. I honestly don’t remember the last time I ate something. I dip my head in shame and wrap my arms around my middle. Dean’s footsteps are light as he walks around the counter until he’s standing at the side of me. His inked arm dips in between my legs as he grabs the stool underneath me and spins me to face him. The motion has me grabbing a hold of his arm to stop me falling.
“Dean, what are you doing?” I fire out but he ignores me as his arms slip under my thighs, before I know it I’m being lifted into the air, his hands splaying over the underside of my thighs. “Dean! I’m too heavy!” I cry out, as he plonks me onto the countertop with ease. Dean steps into the space betweenmy parted legs, his tattooed hands run up and down the soft material on my thighs.
“Talk to me mama.” His face is in my direct view and I watch his vibrant eyes ping pong around my face, all the while his hands roam over my body. His touch alone sparks a fire across my skin and I struggle to speak, the feel of him touching me is at the forefront of my mind. “My.. My husband. Ricky. He put me on a strict diet after I met him and we started to get serious.” Dean’s hands trail further up to my hips, his fingers digging into the flesh. “He said I was too big, that my hips and thighs were too wide. I had rolls that he didn’t really appreciate.” My eyes drop from his face in shame, and his hands slide from my hips, to my sides. I tense under his touch. I want to hide away from him but I’m also basking under the feel of his hands. My voice is low and shaky as I continue to speak, Dean’s hard gaze never leaving mine.
“When he started to.. To rape me. He never removed my clothes. He always said he never wanted to see how disgusting I was underneath them. If he did remove them, they were always torn to pieces.” My voice breaks, and flashbacks flicker across my vision causing me to put my head in my hands to push them away. I’m instantly pulled into Dean’s embrace, his warm skin resting against my face. His arms leave my side and completely wrap around me, and I let the cries I’ve been holding in, break free. The tears run down my face all the while Dean simply holds me in his embrace until I’m ready to face him again.
I lift my head as he slips his finger and thumb underneath my chin. “You see, pretty girl. That’s where me and your husband differ. He might have not wanted to look at what’s underneath your clothes, which makes him incredibly fucking stupid I might add.” I let out a small laugh at that. “But he also can’t appreciate when he sees a perfect, beautiful, strong willed woman in frontof him. Because I can. And I do. And if he doesn’t want to appreciate you, claim you, worship you like you deserve. Then I sure as hell will. One man’s junk is another man’s treasure and you mama, are my treasure.” I’m left speechless at Dean’s loving words. I don’t even know what to say because I’ve never heard them before, ever. My bottom lip trembles, the tears that have already fallen threaten to appear again, and I feel the pad of Dean’s thumb run against the sensitive skin of my lip as he pulls my face towards him, planting a gentle kiss on my forehead. Softly, I close my eyes and we stay there for a moment. Breathing in the essence of each other until he pulls away, his hands firmly planted on either side of my face now.
“Let me feed my woman, then I can rewrap your arm.” He lifts me with ease from the counter and sits me down onto the stool and goes back to cooking. I feel like I’m in a dream, an alternative reality where I’m treated how I deserve but I fear that one day, this cosy bubble will pop and I’ll be left in agony once again.
Dean kept to his word and fed me, and I ate it without a hint of remorse then he gently rewrapped the wound on my arm before planting a kiss over the bandage. The praise kink I didn’t know I had fired to life like an alarm bell everytime Dean told me I was a good girl for eating for him. At one point I think I was ready to follow him around on all fours like a dog. Something was changing in me, I wanted to explore these new feelings but I was scared. I was scared of rejection, even though Dean isn’t that kind of person, my mind still planted the thought there regardless.
We’d fallen into an easy, carefree routine over the past couple of days. I stayed at the house with Lyla, sometimes sitting on the grass with her in the sunshine, letting her run and play whilst Dean returned to work. He was adamant about staying with meeveryday but I flat out refused to let him throw away the job he loves, to babysit me. I needed my independence, I was also desperate to contact the girls. I was becoming stir crazy staying inside with my own thoughts for company and I knew it wasn’t good for me but I was too terrified to go anywhere on my own, and I know Dean would end up in a right panic if I did that, so, as evening broke over the horizon of the thick dense trees I sat on the porch steps, my Chevy parked at the side of the house after Eli dropped it off a couple of days ago, he also managed to salvage some of the clothes I purchased. As much as I wanted to stay in Dean’s clothes I needed to get dressed and pull myself together.
The weather began to stay warmer at night now and all I owned was jeans and long sleeve tops so in an act of confidence I grabbed a pair of kitchen scissors and took to making a pair of shorts from the jeans, then cutting the sleeves from the band shirts. I very rarely had this much skin on show now, but Dean didn’t look at me like I was damaged, or like an old toy that had seen better days. No, the lust that grew in his eyes was present every time we made eye contact.
I sat on the porch for a few minutes until I heard the tell-tale sign of Dean’s bike flying down the gravel driveway, the low rumbling of the engine vibrating. Lyla’s ears pricked up at the noise, a smile spread across my face and I ran my hand through the fluff around her neck. My eyes never left the pathway as the man who’s flipped my entire world upside down begins to drive towards me. His entire body clad in black, the detailed tattoos beaming under the low sun. The all black helmet completely cuts off his identity and I begin to wonder what he’s thinking seeing me sitting here, waiting for him. I pull my lip between my teeth as he stops in front of the steps, only a few feet away from me, then cuts the engine. Dean flicks his visor up with his glovedhand, the only thing I can see in the blackness of his helmet are his piercing green eyes and my God, they’re beautiful. He’s beautiful. He remains seated on the powerful machine, intimidation radiating off of him so much that I can feel it from where I’m still sitting on the steps. He lifts his arm in front of him, his hand outstretched and begins to make a come hither motion with his finger, gesturing to me to come to him. Lyla stays seated as I slowly lift from the steps, my nerve endings are on fire as his gaze burns onto my exposed skin.
Steadily, I begin to take the small steps towards him. The walk is short but I try to stretch out the feeling of him looking at me the way he’s doing so now. I hold my breath as I make the final step, my boots coming toe to toe with his. A cool breeze flutters over my skin and I welcome the sensation it brings to my heated skin, my chest feels tight as I release short breaths from my nose. Dean’s gaze is heavy as he looks over me, the rest of his face still hidden behind the helmet, but his eyes speak a thousand words, the fire burning brightly behind them is telling me exactly what I want to know. He wants me just as much as I want him.
He lifts his arm from his thigh, and loops a finger through the belt loops on my denim shorts and pulls me closer to him, and I have to slap my hands onto his firm chest to stop me from falling flat on my face. Dean lifts his chin, the black swirling tattoos around his neck are inches away from my face and I guide my hands up his chest, taking that gesture as an indication to unfasten the clasp beneath his chin. The tremor in my hands makes it difficult for me to flick open the buckle but I manage, then slip the helmet off of his head. Dean’s beautiful face comes into view. A slight sheen of sweat covers his skin and I’m desperate to taste it.
“If this is the sight I get to see everytime I come home, I thinkI’ll keep you forever.” His voice is deep and sultry and I know he’s speaking the truth. It’s reckless for me to want him to keep me forever, but right now, I want to be reckless.
