Willow groaned quietly in her throat. Her mouth felt dry, but there was no jackhammering pain in her skull. No nausea in her belly.
She had vague recollections of waking. Sometimes it was because the nausea had crawled up her throat and caused her to be sick. Other times it was because her mouth had felt like sandpaper, so dry she could barely breathe.
There was one constant through every awakening, though. Blake. He’d been there with a bucket or water or medicine, each and every time.
Slowly, she peeled her eyes open, sliding her gaze around the small bedroom. Thin rays of light seeped through the curtains. Afternoon light.
How long had she slept? Sleeping twelve to twenty-four hours wasn’t unusual after a migraine.
Rolling onto her back, she half expected pain in her skull to jolt to life again. Or for the back of her eyes to throb. She felt neither.
Willow sighed. Finally, she’d come out the other side.
She tried to listen for any sounds. Sounds of Mila or Blake or TV or dishes. The house was silent.
Pushing down the blanket, she sat up slowly, noticing she wasn’t even dizzy. Good.
She looked down. She was wearing a different top, but the same bra and panties. Her jeans and socks had been removed. Swinging around, she touched her feet to the ground and stood.
Immediately, she realized her mistake. She may not have felt dizzy, but she was weak.
Her knees buckled and her butt hit the ground with a thud. Crap.
She was grumbling beneath her breath when Blake was suddenly by her side, appearing from seemingly nowhere.
He bent to his haunches, cursing softly. “Are you okay?”
She looked up, and her words stalled. The man was shirtless. He’d been muscular before Project Arma, but now he was even bigger. Muscles covered every inch of his body.
“Yes.” Man, her voice was raspy. Like she hadn’t talked for days. “I’m okay. I was just going to the bathroom.”
A growl rocked his chest. Then he was lifting her, his perfectly smooth and muscled chest sliding against her side. “You should have called for me.”
Well, if she’d known he was there…
Actually, no, that was a lie. She probably still would have toughed it out on her own. “Where’s Mila?”
“She’s spending the day with Courtney and Jason. They’re going to drop her off before dinner.”
She frowned as Blake lowered her to her feet. His hands stuck to her waist like glue. Clearly, he didn’t trust her legs, which was fair. She barely trusted her legs. “What’s the time?”
“About four in the afternoon.”
Wow, almost twenty-four hours. The migraine had really wiped her out.
One of his hands lifted, gently stroking the side of her face. She almost leaned into it, craving his touch like a starved woman.
“You should have rested more.”
She knew he wasn’t talking about now. Blake was referring to yesterday when she’d woken with a headache and then pushed herself all day. He was right. She’d ignored the signs her body had thrown her way, which was a dangerous thing to do. “I know.”
For a beat, there was silence, his eyes boring into her own. Then his voice lowered. “Talk to me next time. Trust me to help you, Willow.”
She gave a small nod, not confident in her voice. She shot a look to the toilet, then back at him. “I, uh, need to go.”
His fingers hovered near her waist, like he expected her to tumble to the ground. When she remained steady, he slowly left the room, pulling the door closed after him.
She took a step toward the toilet, legs almost caving again before she righted herself. Yeah, Blake had every reason to be concerned.
She used the toilet quickly before washing her hands and brushing her teeth. When she finally looked up—something she’d been trying to avoid because she knew she’d look a mess—a small shriek escaped her lips.
So much worse than she’d thought.
Again, Blake was by her side in an instant. “What is it? Is it your head again?”
In a way… “Blake, I look like roadkill!”
Literally. Her hair was everywhere, and her face was pasty white. It looked like someone had hit her with their car and she’d tumbled down a weed hill.
His eyes softened, a spark of amusement lighting them. “You look beautiful.”
No. She really didn’t. She shot a pointed look toward the door. “You need to go and I need to shower.”
“If you think I’m leaving you alone in a shower after waking from a migraine, you’re delusional, honey. You just fell out of bed.”
She gritted her teeth. He was right, but she needed to wash. She could already feel the dried sweat on her skin, and it made her want to scrub her skin clean. “Fine. I’ll have a bath.”
One of his brows rose—and she already knew what was coming next. “You think I’m gonna let you drown yourself instead?”
She rolled her eyes. “I won’t drown.”
“Willow, I distinctly remember you sitting on the couch after a twenty-four-hour migraine. I turned my back for a second, one second, and you immediately toppled straight off, hitting your head on the coffee table.” His finger grazed the small scar on her forehead from that incident.
In her defense, though, she’d thought she was fine. The wave of dizziness had come out of nowhere. Next thing she knew, blood was pouring from her skull, and Blake was going nuts.
Right on cue, her legs began to tire, and she shifted to the edge of the tub, perching herself there. Willow sighed. “Blake, I need to bathe. I feel disgusting.”
“Okay. I’ll sit on the edge to make sure you’re okay.”
Ah…that was a big fat no. “I am not getting in that tub naked while you sit to the side, fully clothed.” Absolutely not.
Blake seemed to consider her words for a moment before nodding. “That’s fair enough.”
Reaching over, he turned on the tap. She started to relax.
Then his hands went to the buckle of his jeans.
She gave a little squeak, covering her eyes moments before the sound of his zipper lowering filled the air. “Blake!”
His deep chuckle settled into her bones, heating her blood. “Honey, you’ve seen it all before.”
She knew that. There was a time in her life when she felt more familiar with his body than her own. But that was years ago.
The sound of material sliding to the floor had her belly sizzling. Then his lips were by her ear, his whispered words humming through her chest. “My briefs are staying on. But you’re welcome to go either way.”
Then came the sound of water sloshing in the tub, of Blake lowering himself.
“Blake…”
“Willow, it’s just a bath. We’ve had hundreds of them together before.”
When she finally uncovered her eyes, it was to see him sitting in the tub, briefs still on as he’d promised, legs apart.
She swallowed. He was right. How many times had they bathed just like that? Her sitting between his legs, his heat surrounding her…
The very memories were etched into her brain, never to be forgotten.
She shot a glance to the door, considering walking right on out. But her skin really did feel dirty, even a bit sticky, and God, did the clean, warm water call to her.
Sucking in a quick breath of courage, she quickly tugged her top over her head before climbing into the tub. Blake’s large hands went to her hips, helping and guiding her. She braved a look back, almost gasping at the way his pupils dilated. At the way his features darkened with a ferocity that nearly stole her breath.
She dragged her eyes away, and the warm water lapped around her torso. But it wasn’t just the water that had her body heating. It was the feel of his long, muscled thighs that bracketed her own.
“Relax.” His warm breath danced across her cheek, fluttering all the way down to her belly.
One by one, she made an effort to relax her muscles. Then, almost on its own, her body leaned back into his hard stomach and chest. Just like before, she fit against him perfectly. Like they were designed to fit together, two pieces of a puzzle.
Willow cleared her throat, trying to distract her body from its treacherous desire. “I was impressed Mila knew how to call you.”
“We’ve been practicing.” His voice caused a light vibration across her back. She felt Blake reach for something behind them. A second later, his hands ran up and down her arms in slow strokes, scented body wash slicking over her skin. “I ask her to recite my number before bed. It’s a little game of ours. When she makes a mistake, I tickle her. I swear she does it on purpose sometimes.”
Smart. So damn smart. Willow had taught her daughter how to call nine-one-one. But she hadn’t thought about teaching her how to call anyone else. “Thank you, Blake. For keeping our daughter safe.”
His hands momentarily paused. “I told you, you don’t need to thank me when it comes to Mila. We’re a team.”
Team. The word floated through her head and into her heart. A heart that had been alone in the parenting game for so long.
Slowly, his hands shifted to her ribs and stomach. Her breath caught, skin tingling. His hands didn’t move straight away. They paused. Hesitating. Waiting for her to stop him.
She bit her lip. She should tell him no. She could rub the soap on her own body. But the feel of his hands on her stomach, the promise of them gliding across her skin…she was too weak to pull away.
Slowly, his hands started to glide over her deprived skin in slow circles.
Sucking in a quick breath, she closed her eyes. Biting her bottom lip to stop a moan from purring out of her chest.
His lips brushed her ear. “Bend your left knee for me, honey.”
His words barely made sense in her muddled head. But eventually, she did as he asked. His large hands wrapped around her thigh, gliding up and down as they washed her.
Her breasts felt heavy. Skin over-sensitized. She didn’t know how long his hands slid over her thigh, but each time they traveled upward, a thunderous need built inside her.
His mouth went to her ear again. “Other leg.”
She lowered the first, almost whimpering when his hands dropped. The second the other knee was up, his hands circled her, gliding up and down.
Her core throbbed with need. Her breaths shortened with every stroke.
Blake would know what he was doing to her. There was no way he couldn’t. He could hear her every heartbeat now. But she couldn’t be angry. After all, she’d known that stepping into the tub was dangerous. That Blake was dangerous. The second she’d taken off her top, she’d consented to this. And she’d done it because she was starved for the man who still set her blood soaring.
“Blake…” His name was almost a whimper from her lips.
His head pushed hers to the side, lips pressing to her neck as his hands traveled up. “Do you want me to stop?”
He knew she didn’t. But he wanted the word.
“No.” A whisper. A desperate plea.
His hands slid to her back, slipping between their bodies and releasing her bra. Her breasts sprang free. She heard the light thud of material hitting the tiles outside of the tub, but she barely noticed.
He reached for more soap, then his hands returned to her ribs, rising slowly before covering her breasts. Her next breath hissed between her lips when his thumbs grazed over her hard nipples. Once. Twice.
On the third graze, she groaned deep in her chest.
“You’re so beautiful.” His lips nibbled her neck, his thumbs torturing her peaks. “Two years without you was agony. I craved you every day. Dreamed about the day I would see you again. Touch you.”
“Me too.” All of it. Every word he said, she felt. “Every day.”
The days had been long and torturous. Not knowing where he was. Whether he was dead or alive.
As the pads of his thumbs continued to graze back and forth, her limbs began to tremble in his hold. “What do you need, baby?” His voice was still smooth.
She tried to speak, but her words stuck in her throat.
Instead, she reached up, grabbing one of his hands and guiding it down to the thin material that covered her core. She pressed it underneath.
His big hand covered her completely.
The first soft swipe of his finger against her clit had her body jolting, her flesh heating. Then he did it again. And again.
His mouth was still nibbling her neck, his thumb still grazing and flicking her nipple.
She was on fire. Every inch of her. Breaths heaving in and out of her chest. Toes curled. He whispered soft words against her neck. Words that barely made sense in her feverish brain. “Beautiful” and “never enough” pierced her mind.
The pressure built. She was close. So close, her muscles bunched and pleasure throbbed low in her belly.
The hand at her nipple lifted and pressed her chin until her head turned. Then he was kissing her. Devouring her lips like he was consumed by her. His tongue worked hers as his fingers circled and grazed her clit. It was too much.
A finger went to her entrance, thumb taking over to strum her clit. Then, slowly, he pressed inside of her.
He swallowed her sharp intake of breath as her hands latched onto his thighs. He slid his finger out before pushing back inside her again. Every penetration pushed her closer to the edge, right until her world exploded, white-hot waves crashing behind her eyes. She vibrated and trembled in his arms, and all the while, Blake continued to work her right until she collapsed against him.
His finger slowly slipped out of her body, hands going back to her arms as another kiss pressed to her neck. Her breaths were loud in the quiet room.
When she felt his hardness against her back, she reached for him, but he was quick to halt her. “No, baby. That was just for you.”
She turned her head, looking at him. Her heart rolled and thudded in her chest.
Love. It was there in his gaze, and it was intense.
Suddenly, she questioned everything. Her fear. Her hesitation. She’d missed him for two whole years. Was it better to protect herself by pushing him away so they didn’t fall into a shadow of a relationship again? Or should she take a chance? Risk her heart and soul for a man who made her feel alive?
