Broken Bond - Callie Rose Page 0,8

on then, though to be fair, I was fully clothed as well. It’s silly of me to think Archer would get into the shower in his clothes to help me wash off, but that’s exactly what I assumed when I accepted his help.

Instead… he strips nude, baring every last inch of his body to me.

Seeing him naked reminds me of what was happening before the darkness swallowed me up and the transition began.

We were all on the bed. All five of us. Me and the four gorgeous, masculine shifters. Their hands were on my body, their mouths on parts of me no one had ever seen or touched before. Heat flashes over me as Archer takes my hands again to help me into the shower.

He’s so beautiful. Golden skin shifts over thick muscles, and his full lips and high cheekbones make him look almost regal. As he holds my arm and carefully navigates me into the shower, all I can think about is what else he’s done with those hands on my skin.

I’m still weak and shaky, so I keep one hand firmly on the shower wall and the other on his shoulder. The water cascades over me, warm and inviting, and Archer picks up the soap and a rag, lathering it up to wash me. Then he gets a firm grip on my elbow to keep me from falling and begins to run the rag over my body.

He starts with my face, gently brushing the soapy rag over my hairline, careful to avoid my eyes. He moves lower, massaging my neck and shoulders with a bit more strength, and I groan at the way he kneads my aching muscles.

Desire blooms inside me as the rag slides lower. Even though there’s cloth between his fingertips and my skin, I close my eyes and lean into his touch when his palm crests over my breast. He rubs over each one in turn, the washcloth chafing over my nipples. As he moves lower, I open my eyes, breathing harder, feeling more turned on than I should right now, given how weak and exhausted I am. I wonder if he can sense it, but then I answer my own question when my gaze drifts lower down his body.

He’s just as turned on as I am.

But Archer, ever the gentleman, stoically ignores the hardening of his cock as he keeps washing me. His touch is gentle but obviously without sexual intent, despite the fact that his hand on my body is doing a lot more to me than getting me clean. He focuses entirely on the task at hand, keeping our bodies several inches apart.

I watch him as the rag brushes over my thighs. The water sprays down from above, washing away the lingering anxiety that clings to the edge of my mind. But his presence is doing the same thing. He’s so beautiful it tugs at my heartstrings, and the way he’s taking care of me, respecting me even as his body begs for more, makes him even more handsome. He’s a good man.

So damn good.

“Why didn’t you run away?” I ask suddenly. My voice startles both of us in the silence. “Why didn’t you run like Dare? You’ve got just as much reason to hate me as he does.”

Witches may have killed Dare’s pack, but they also abducted Archer when he was a boy, torturing him and hurting him. He’s lucky to be alive today, and during our time together, I’ve seen just how he’s had to cope with his fears and anxiety over what happened to him. Me turning out to be a witch is a much bigger, more personal deal to Dare and Archer than it could be for Ridge or Trystan.

But Archer didn’t leave me.

He stayed.

The blond man straightens, then puts the rag down on the soap tray and takes my face between his hands. For a wild moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. I want him to, but he just tilts my head back beneath the spray to soak my hair. A thoughtful look settles over his face as he pours shampoo into his hands, lathers, and then slides his fingers into my wet locks.

As he works the soap into my scalp, he finally answers. “Dare and I are vastly different people, and our situations are very different too. I think he partially blames himself for what happened to his pack, even though none of it was his fault. He’s lived with that guilt for so