Page 16 of The Price of Mercy
God, what is wrong with me?
I clench my eyes shut and focus on shampooing my hair. The bottle wheezes as I squeeze out the last drop of soap, and while I’m unscrewing the top and fingering the bottle for what little soap remains, a new one appears from around the edge of the curtain, clutched tightly in Sam’s fingers. “Thanks,” I murmur, setting down the empty bottle to accept the gift. Before he can pull his hand away, I grab it. “Wait, Sam— Can you, um, wash my back?”
There’s a beat of silence.
“Turn around.”
Abandoning the shampoo, I do as instructed and turn to face the tile wall. A few seconds pass before I hear the curtain pull open, and the water spray shifts off of my body. I shiver from the sudden lack of heat, goosebumps trailing across my skin. “Use the?—”
“Lavender,” Sam finishes for me, although that’s not what I was going to say. He ignores the loofa—my unspoken request—and pumps body wash into his palms before lathering up. Only when I’m damn near freezing does he touch me, starting at the tips of my shoulders and working his way down my body.
I thought he might haphazardly wash away any remnants of blood or booze before running away, but Sam’s hands are gentle as he meticulously palms every square inch of my skin, slowly brushing his callouses over every bump of my spine and each ridge of my shoulder blades, even curving along my waist and taking extra care with the bruises. He thumbs a tender spot on my hip and I exhale through the discomfort, crossing my arms in front of my face and leaning into them on the wall.
A choked sound catches in Sam’s throat as he wraps his hand around the mark and squeezes. The pressure hurts and I whimper, caught off guard. “W-what are you doing?” I stand perfectly still, suddenly feeling like a scared rabbit cornered by a predator. A fox is too slender and sly to be Sam, especially when he steps over the tub edge and pushes me into the shower wall. The stream of water hits my back and washes away the suds, heating my skin while the tile at my front makes me shiver. The contrast makes me dizzy. Sam’s breath on my neck and his hands on my hips don’t help. I take a breath, inhaling little more than steam. Did he turn up the water temp?
“Sam?”
“You have these—” Sam squeezes my hip again, making me gasp. “Marks.”
My voice trembles. “I bruise easily.” Fake Reaper wasn’t exactly gentle when he tossed me around. It’s no surprise that he left his mark on my body. I feel Sam’s warm breath on my shoulder as he presses against me, the rough denim on his jeans chafing my ass.
“Ihatethem.” Sam sweeps his hands up my waist, digging into my flesh until he touches the bottom rung of my ribs. Reaching around my body, he covers my abdomen with his touch, ensuring that no inch is unscathed, before grabbing my hips again, harder this time.
I gasp as pain blooms anew. That’s going to leave an even bigger bruise than the one I had before. “T-then why are you?—”
He suddenly backs off and his lips replace his hands, kissing the new bruise on my right side before doing the same to the left. I flush bright crimson and bury my face in my arms as he kneels beside me and attends to the remaining bruises on the backs of my thighs and calves, going so far as to lift my foot and kiss the bruise wrapping around my ankle, tenderly caressing each side before moving on to the next. Despite the alleged hate Sam holds for the marks on my skin, his touch isn’t angry or violent as he explores my body and examines each of them. He presses down on the tender spots, reawakening the pain for a mere moment before attempting to sooth it with his mouth.
Blood pools in the affected areas, and I grow very hot, very quickly. “S-Sam.” His name comes out as a whine, and I can feel him freeze in place. “I can’t—” I drag in as much air as I can, but it’s all steam. “I can’t keep—” My knees buckle, and I collapse without warning. The room spins as I fall.
“Mercy!” Sam catches me easily and collapses onto the bottom of the tub, holding me on his lap. He reaches over and turns the temperature to cool, letting it wash over my chest and down my body. “You should have said something sooner.”
Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I bury my face in his neck and shut my eyes. The water glides across my back, easing the ache from Sam’s touch. “It happened so fast.” I take a shallow breath, already feeling a little better. “I don’t know what you’re doing.”
“I’m—” Sam adjusts our position so that my knees don’t press against the tub wall. The shower-tub combo isn’t exactly built with muscled athletes and their pixie girlfriends in mind. He swallows. “It’s nothing.”
I peek at his face. “Are you blushing?” To sit up, I have to lean on his shoulders, but it’s worth it to get the full effect of Sam’srugged beauty. When he clenches his jaw, overgrown stubble scrapes my wrist. As he avoids my gaze, I glimpse towering evergreens swaying in a thunderstorm, bending so far that they nearly break. The taut muscles beneath my hands are boulders baking in the sun, searing and solid to the touch. “Sam.” Hooking my finger around his jaw, I turn his face back towards me. “You don’t have to pretend with me. It’s okay.”
A muscle in his jaw tics. “You can’t say that.”
“Why not?” Combing my fingers through his damp hair, I pull it off his forehead. “You’ve seen some of the darkest parts of me, so why can’t I see yours? Do you think it’ll scare me?” Admittedly, finding out that he’s a secret hit man or underling for his father might take some getting used to, but I can adjust. “Ilikedark things.” Tugging his hair, I tilt his head back and stare into his storm cloud eyes. “Did you forget who you’re talking to?”
His throat clicks on a swallow. “No. But?—”
I press my finger to his lips, silencing him. “Let me decide for myself.” Wrapping my arms around his neck, I cling tightly to him. “Show me? Please?”
It takes a minute for Sam to move. At first, he’s cautious. Grazing his knuckles across my back, he mutters under his breath, too softly for me to hear over the splashing water. Then his lips find my neck and he sighs as he drags his fingers into my hair, tangling them in the wet strands. “You ruin me, Mercy Morningstar.” The scrape of his stubble is replaced by the sting of his teeth as he bites down.
Pain blossoms, hot and sharp, and I dig my nails into his shoulders to keep from making a sound. I want to ask what he means, but my brain scrambles for the words as Sam’s touch intensifies. He latches onto my neck, tugging my hair for better access to the column of my throat. Every pinprick of pain is followed by the swipe of his hot tongue as he moves along the column of my throat, marking his territory. In between breaths,I catch the faintest sound rumbling past his lips, growing louder with each passing second.
Mine.
A flash of desire burns through my body. Shutting my eyes, I bite my lip to keep from moaning. Sam doesn’t stop, his hands roaming the rolls of my stomach, climbing the ladder of my ribs, grabbing my tiny breasts. He pants when he reaches my collarbone, sparing a glance up at my face.
“Who’s blushing now?” He chuckles, deep and dark, and squeezes my tit hard enough to make me whimper. “Tell me to stop.”
I shake my head. This is exactly what I asked for. “No.”
He drags in a breath and cups my breast, tilting my nipple up to his mouth. “Alright, then.”
