He came back to me, his eyes searching mine. Carefully, he slid the borrowed jacket off my shoulders. He helped me take off the top. His fingers brushed lightly against my skin as he slid down the tight black pants in one slow, deliberate move that left me panting. Malcolm lifted me up and sat me on the countertop as he bent and untied my boots and pulled everything else off until I was clad only in my underthings.
My teeth scraped against my bottom lip while I watched him. Part of me wanted to grab his hair and resume our wild kiss. But another part of me reveled in being taken care of. Malcolm helped me off the counter and I slid down his body. He pulled me in close and unsnapped my bra. He let me take it off as he bent and lowered my lacy panties to the tile floor.
When he stood, his blue eyes were dilated and he had to swallow hard. "Get in," he whispered.
"Aren't you going to--"
He shook his head, cutting off my question about joining me in the water. He stayed fully dressed as he grabbed my hand and led me over to the tub. The water was just short of scalding. It was perfect. I slowly sank into it and reclined against the back ledge.
Malcolm grabbed a bar of soap and a washcloth from a shelf. He dipped both in the water and then lathered it up. He gently lifted my right arm out of the water and scrubbed me clean.
"I can do that," I weakly protested.
"I want to," his response was soft. His eyes took on a quality I rarely saw from Malcolm, a gentleness that matched his touch. "How are you feeling?" he asked, as he gently placed my arm back in the water.
I tried to laugh it off, because the intensity of his gaze made everything from last night just bubble back up and I wasn't sure I was ready to process it all. "That's a loaded question. I think it might be better if you asked what I was feeling. Because, honestly, I don't know."
He nodded and switched to washing my other arm. When he finished, he dropped the rag for a moment and massaged my fingers. He rubbed soft, counterclockwise circles into them from base to tip and my entire body felt like it was melting. Then he switched to the other hand. When he'd finished, he asked, "How do you feel about your stepfather?"
I shrugged, my shoulder coming out of the water and letting tiny droplets cascade down. "We had to."
"That's what you think. How do you feel?" Malcolm's eyes searched mine.
It took me a minute to try to unravel the night and think about Claude. But when I tried to focus on him, I just, "I hate that he showed up. I hate that Andros had to do it. I hate that I couldn't. I hate that Mom is gonna be heartbroken ... " I choked up as I thought about my mom. Now she'd lost two husbands.
Worry for her filled my face and I turned to Malcolm. "She didn't answer her phone tonight."
He leaned forward and wrapped me up in a wordless hug. He didn't seem to care that I soaked his shirt. He just gently held me as sobs took over and my fear for my mother enveloped me.
When my crying lessened, Malcolm pulled back and gave me a chaste kiss, just a peck on the lips that reassured me and reaffirmed everything that had ever drawn me to him. He'd brought me up here to take care of me, to tend to me physically and emotionally. He'd made himself a valve for the pressure that I hadn't even realized had built up inside.
He was amazing.
He grabbed the wash cloth and tenderly washed my entire body. I wiped away stray tears the entire time as thoughts or memories hit and lanced me with either regret or fear for my mom.
Malcolm made me dunk my head under the water. Then he washed my hair, massaging my head and getting out every trace of Halloween dye.
As he toweled me off, I asked, "How did you know I needed this?"
He'd paused and looked at me, dragging a wet strand of hair off my chin and tucking it behind my ear. I'd stared up, tempted to wipe a spare droplet of water from his neck, but also desperate to hear his answer. No one else could read me like Malcolm.
"I know your tells," he ran his thumb over my cheekbone. "You're subtle. But I can read your emotions like a deck of cards. You lightly clench your teeth when you're upset."
I shook my head, in both embarrassment at my lack of control and a little in awe at his gold-star stalker level of attention. "But... why all this?"
The air around us grew heated as a tiny bit of Malcolm's power leached into the atmosphere. "You needed this. I need you."
12
Malcolm refused to do anything more than let me kiss him, saying I was too spent—even punching his shoulder made no difference. He’d simply pushed me out the bathroom door in my towel and locked it in my face.
I’d given up when he started the shower. But talk about blue ovaries.
How could I not try to jump him after what he’d said? I grumbled to myself as I dressed in a guy’s blue t-shirt and drawstring shorts I found in a duffel bag on one of the quilted bedspreads.
By the time I made my way downstairs to see the other guys sitting around the living room, I had to agree with Captain Shmeckle. I wanted to pass out.
Grayson walked back in from the kitchen with a sports drink in one hand. He didn’t look at any of us as he made his way to sit in the recliner. He pushed back and forth on the worn-out leather rocker, spreading his legs wide and fiddling with the cap of the orange drink.
Evan didn’t stop talking when I walked in; neither mine nor Grayson’s entrance dissuaded his rant in the slightest.
I dragged up my drooping eyelids long enough to peer at the clock. We’d been on the run for nearly nine hours now. It was midmorning.
“We have to get proof of what the Pinnacle has been doing,” Evan insisted. “There’s gonna be a huge cover up otherwise.”
Andros merely rubbed his eyes and leaned back in the flower printed love seat he dominated. The seat glided back and forth underneath him and I realized that the couch was a glider.
My amazement was that of a sleep deprived person. I found the couch way too fascinating. I watched him glide back and forth as Evan’s voice faded into the background. The tiny creak of the metal became rhythmic and lulled me into half sleep—
A smack on the ass drove sleep from my mind. Z sat down on the couch next to where I stood. He had a sandwich in his free hand, wrapped up in a paper towel. “Wakey, wakey, Madame President.”
I glared at him before the words fully registered. “Wait, what did you call me?”
He shrugged, before he took a huge bite out of his sandwich. After chewing and swallowing, he replied, “I’ve decided to embrace the whole MC thing. So, you’re the president. And I’m head bitch.”
Andros kicked his feet up onto the side of the loveseat (they hung over because he was far too big for the furniture) and said. “Well, the bitch part is true.”
Z extracted a tomato slice and tossed it at Andros. I watched it sail through the air with incredible accuracy only for it to slow at the last second so that Andros could snatch it and lob it back at Z—and Andros’ made it accelerate so fast that the entire tomato slice exploded when it smashed into Z’s face.
“Dude!” Z complained. He unwrapped his sandwich and used his paper towel to wipe his face. “Don’t waste food.”
Andros just ignored him, shoving one arm behind his head and using the other to cover his eyes so he could sleep. Z returned to his sandwich, which he inhaled in about four bites.