She takes an uncertain step toward the shower, and I start to peel my own clothing off. Since there is no fucking way I’m letting her shower alone, I might as well get my shower for the evening in, too. When I’m down to nothing but my boxers, I look up at her. It’s then I realize just how different we look. She’s all smooth creamy white skin, and I’m dark, with scars and tattoos.
Fear fills her gaze, and I realize that I probably should’ve told her I was going to be taking a shower with her. Gripping the edge of my boxers, I shove them down my muscled thighs.
If she’s going to be afraid then she is, but either way, we’re taking a shower.
“Take your underwear off,” I order, stepping into the shower, extending a hand to her. She stands there frozen in place for a few seconds. Frustration fills my veins. Patience isn’t something I have, not with my men, and not with anyone else in my life, but I know I have to be patient with her. At least a little bit. I give her a few more moments. I’m about to grab her and pull her in when she dips two fingers into her panties and pulls them down with shaking hands.
When she stands back up, she takes my hand and I gently tug her into the shower with me. The space is small, and suddenly, I’m aware of just how fucking bad of an idea this is.
5
Violet
He’s huge. That’s all I can think in that moment. Like huge, and I don’t just mean his penis. I mean his body overall. How is it that he can seem bigger without any clothes on? I look him up and down. His eyes are an intense gray, a color that reminds me of the sky before a storm.
He’s built, and I do mean built, like a tree standing thick and strong in the forest. A forest with tattoos. He has way more than the neck tattoo I have already seen. One arm is completely covered and the other one is half covered. There are two large ones on his chest and multiple pieces on his back. There are so many I can’t take them all in.
His hair is a dark brown, almost the color of espresso, and I can’t help but feel invaded by his body. His presence is intimidating and while I feel safe with him, I worry he may only see me as an object, rather than an actual human in this moment. After the way he looked at me when he took my shirt off, I wonder if he even cares about my feelings.
Another thought pops into my mind as the heated water beats down on us. Is he going to ask for his shirt back? Maybe he is going to send me back completely naked. A shudder of fear moves through my body.
“Can I still wear your shirt?” I ask as he squirts some shampoo into his hand. I try to keep my eyes trained to the floor rather than his body. There’s only a foot of space between us and if I move even an inch, I’m going to be rubbing some part of my body against his.
“What?” he asks, as if I’ve asked him a stupid question.
“Your shirt, the one I’ve been wearing… can I keep it?”
He starts washing my hair without warning, his thick fingers threading through the strands with surprising tenderness.
“It’s dirty… I’ll give you something else to wear.”
My mind relaxes at his words, and my body softens into his touch.
His large hands gently massage my scalp, and I find myself leaning into him as a low moan escapes my lips. I instantly regret making that noise and secretly hope he didn't hear it, though I know he did. When I open my eyes and peek up at him, his eyes are lustful. I worry for a moment he might try and have his way with me. After all, there isn't anyone who could stop him...
“Close your eyes.” His voice is low and rougher than before, and fear sneaks up on me. My previous thoughts replay in my mind.
“W-Why?” I stutter, my body stiffening, making my muscles ache.
“So I can rinse out your hair.” He takes the sprayer off the wall mount.
“Oh…” I mumble and close my eyes, feeling him run his fingers through my hair as he rinses it.
I let my head fall back and the position change has my head spinning. My stomach clenches, and I’m so overcome with dizziness that I think I might fall. Ivan must notice a change in my body because the next thing I know, his arm comes around my midsection, holding me flush to his chest with a steel grip.
“You okay?” he asks while holding me upright. My bare breasts rub against his muscled chest with every ragged breath I take, and I can't help the heat that creeps up my body.
“Yeah,” I manage to say, but it comes out more like a breath than a word. “Just a little dizzy is all.”
“I told you... you need to eat more. If you had finished that sandwich like I asked, you probably wouldn't be so weak.” He attaches the sprayer back to the wall mount and takes a washcloth that’s hanging on a hook, all while keeping a tight hold on me.
“Hold this,” he says and hands me the washcloth. I take it from him, and he squeezes some soap onto it. It smells woodsy, like grass and the outdoors. He takes the washcloth back and starts to wash my back and my shoulders. My aching muscles relax at his touch, and I melt into him.
When he is done with that, he continues down my arms before suddenly spinning me around so that my back is against his chest. Another wave of dizziness hits me, but I press my hands to the wall and steady myself.
“Just lean against me. I’ll hold you up.”
I do as he says and lean into him. My breath hitches when I feel his erection pressed up against my ass. My heart beats furiously against my ribcage. I've never been so close to a man before.
He starts washing my stomach and my chest, moving gently across my skin. There's a kindness to his touch, one I don't understand.
How can his touch be so gentle, so kind, when he's doing all the bad things he is? He's a criminal… one who sells women. I should be running from his touch, not embracing it. He's the reason I'm here, isn't he? When the washrag moves lower, all my thoughts fly out the window.
“Spread your legs,” he orders gruffly. I feel his chest heaving against my back. Against my better judgment, I do as he asks and spread my legs slightly… just enough for his hand to fit between them. When I feel his washcloth-covered fingers between my legs, I gasp, and my hands automatically grab onto his wrist to stop any further movements.
“I’m not going to hurt you, just relax.”
I know I shouldn’t trust him, but his words assure me and slowly I release my grip on his wrist once again, allowing him to clean me. I look down, watching as blood mixes in with the water swirling down the drain. Once he’s finished washing me, he tosses the washcloth to the floor of the shower. I twist out of his grip and turn around to face him.
When I see the look in his gunmetal-gray eyes, I’m frozen into place. He looks so unhinged, so pent up with need or aggression or something I don’t understand. Did I do something wrong?
“I promise, I’m not going to hurt you, but I want you to do something for me.”
I blink slowly, my lashes fanning against my cheek. A nervous knot unravels in my belly.
Trusting his word blindly yet again, I nod my head, even though I know for certain that this is going to be something I don’t want to do.
He looms above me for a moment, gauging my expression most likely, before he loops his arm around me again like he did earlier, holding me up to his left side. My right arm is dangling over his, while my left arm is in front of us. My gaze drops to his obscenely large penis.