Peasants and Kings - Emma Slate Page 0,62

next to me and held out the glass of sparkling water. “Drink this. And take this.” He plopped a tiny pill into my hand. “It works well, but it will make you drowsy.”

I did as he said and downed it with some water, wanting anything to stop the rolling of my stomach.

My belly reeled, but I closed my eyes and willed it to settle.

“This isn’t even choppy water, and we’re on an eighty-foot catamaran,” he said in wry amusement. “How in the world are you seasick?”

“Not all of us are modern day Vikings born to sail the open sea.”

Hadrian chuckled. He leaned past me and turned on the shower. I managed to get some more water down—and it stayed down.

“So. A Viking?” Hadrian teased.

I glared at him, which only made him grin.

“Do you have fantasies of me wearing animal pelts?” he tormented.

“Oh God. Stop,” I muttered, closing my eyes. “I knew you’d give me hell as soon as I said it.”

He outright laughed. “The shower is ready,” he said, taking the glass away from me and setting it on the counter next to the sink. He then helped me stand, and before I could tell him not to, he began stripping me out of my clothes.

“What are you doing? I’m not an invalid.”

“Humor me,” he demanded.

“Fine, but you have to leave me to bathe in private.”

“Why?”

“Pride.”

He didn’t bother replying and continued to undress me. He took my jeans off, but he left my lace thong alone. He urged the sweater over my head and then removed my camisole.

There was no reason to blush over my nudity, but I did blush when I managed to look in the mirror and see my reflection. Ashen complexion, limp hair damp at the temples.

I slithered out of my thong and tossed it aside before taking his hand and letting him help me into the shower. I breathed a sigh of relief when I leaned against the wall, the water coming down hot and steamy over my body.

Hadrian started removing his clothes.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my gaze riveted on the skin he was baring.

He cocked his head to the side. “Getting naked. Obviously.”

“Stop right there,” I commanded him, holding up my hand when he stood before me completely and gloriously nude.

He was a sight to behold. Long angular lines, muscles, scar.

“Stop? Why?” Hadrian asked.

“You are not climbing in this shower with me.”

“Why not? Do you still feel sick? The medication should’ve started working by now.”

“The pill worked.” I nibbled my lip. “You have to promise not to kiss me.”

“Excuse me?”

“I haven’t brushed my teeth,” I blurted out. “And I just”—I waved my hand in the direction of the toilet—“many times.”

Without a comment, he marched to the sink, pulled open a drawer and took out a brand-new toothbrush. He tore off the wrapper and then doused it with toothpaste, ran it under the sink, and then brought it to me.

“Brush your teeth, Eden. And I promise not to kiss you. That’s not what this is about.”

I took the toothbrush and scrubbed my teeth and tongue, turning around so he could only see my backside, somehow embarrassed that a man who had fucked me would watch me brush my teeth.

Hadrian took the toothbrush from me when I was done and then got into the shower, settling himself behind me.

I turned to face him. My finger traced the scar along his abdomen. His skin danced under my touch.

“Knife,” he said gruffly.

“I didn’t ask,” I whispered.

“You didn’t have to.”

I looked up to stare at him, like I was truly seeing him for the first time.

“Who are you, Hadrian?”

His eyes were intense as they bored into mine. His hand reached out to touch my jaw. “A man with his own past.”

Hadrian’s thumb grazed my bottom lip and a pang of lust slid down my belly to settle between my legs.

“Lean back against me,” he said gruffly.

I reluctantly turned around and settled against him, resting my head on his chest as we stood with the hot water running over us. He made no move to do anything other than cradle me from behind.

He gently nudged me forward and then squirted shampoo from a pump attached to the wall into his hands. “Let me wash your hair.”

He was taking care of me in his commanding fashion, but I couldn’t say I didn’t enjoy it.

“Will you tell me more? About your childhood?” I asked as his hands began to massage my head and suds foamed in my hair.

He brushed his lips

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