The Brightest Night (Origin #3) - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,96

I didn’t think I’d like it, but instead of feeling coddled, I felt … loved. He was careful not to tangle his fingers in my hair, and he warmed each fresh pitcher of water, making sure none of the suds or the conditioner ran down my face but into the container he’d brought in so that we wouldn’t be soaking in the water used to wash my hair. I honestly wouldn’t have thought of that.

“Thank you,” I said.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I just did, and I think I’m now spoiled and I’m going to forever demand that you wash my hair. You’re really good at it.”

“It’s not my first time. I used to wash your hair when you were sick.”

Why was I still surprised to hear that? I watched him refill the pitcher, placing it on the ledge of the tub. God, he would’ve had to have been fourteen or younger, and something like that seemed like a simple gesture, but it required a level of maturity and intuitiveness that I knew even most adults lacked. Luc was, surprisingly, a care—

He rose without warning, and my eyes widened. This time I did look away, because goodness, he was …

Every inch of him was beautiful.

Because I had no sense of propriety whatsoever, I peeked over at him. His back was to me as he dipped his head over the sink, wetting his hair. Then he added some shampoo. That was all. No conditioner. Within five seconds, he’d washed his hair out in the sink, no worry about tangles and knots the size of my fist.

Such a dude—a dude with a lovely backside.

He was turning back to me, and I averted my gaze. “You going to join me now?” I asked, hoping my request sounded mysterious and sexy, and not as high-pitched and squeaky as it did to my own ears.

“Nothing in this world could stop me,” he replied. “Not even a marching band. They’d just get an eyeful of my goodies and have to deal with it.”

“Goodies?” Laughing, I scooted forward. The water lapped at my back as he stepped into the tub behind me and sat. I was trying to play it cool, but I felt as if I were seconds away from a heart attack. “They’d probably enjoy their eyeful.”

“You did.”

Smiling, I dropped my forehead to my knee. “I can’t deny that.”

“I wouldn’t want you to.” His legs slid against my hips, the hair along his calves sending a riot of shivers through me.

Taking a deep breath, I lifted my head and leaned back just enough that my front was no longer plastered to my legs. He touched first the center of my back and then brushed my wet hair over one shoulder. A heartbeat passed, and I felt just the tips of his fingers on my waist. A moment later, his lips touched the nape of my neck. I bit down on my lip as I reached back, curling my fingers around his hands. I guided them forward as I uncurled my legs and straightened.

“Wait.” His hands left my skin, his arms wrapping around me as he reached for the bar of soap. I watched him lather up his hands again before placing the soap back on the ledge. His hands returned to my upper arms, sweeping down, the backs of his fingers grazing the sides of my breasts, causing me to jolt.

“Just being helpful,” he said in a gravelly voice.

“So helpful,” I murmured.

His soapy, slick hands continued on, back up my arms and then down, over my lower stomach. His hands left only long enough to soap back up, and then his palms were skating up my ribs and higher, lingering until I was clutching his legs and doing everything in me not to squirm.

“Making sure you’re squeaky clean,” he said against my ear.

“Uh-huh.”

He chuckled darkly as his hands slipped into the water, and then he was retracing his earlier steps, washing away the soap with a washcloth that had to have appeared out of thin air. The material did strange, interesting things to my skin, but then he had that soap in his hand again.

“Lean back.” His request was a rough one I immediately obeyed.

The contact of my back to his chest and my hips against him was a wonderful, exquisitely pleasing feeling, but it was quickly overwhelmed when his hands were making their way over my hips and my legs. He lifted one, hooking it over the edge of the tub, and then his