He limped with her into the bathroom.
He liked his comforts, and his bathroom reflected that. It was spacious, with a walk-in shower and a large sunken tub with Jacuzzi jet heads. After a quick glance around, Tess said, “I don’t think we should try the shower.”
He didn’t disagree. Even with her support, he was shaky on his feet, and the muscle cramps kept hitting him unexpectedly.
She helped him into the tub, and he stripped off his soiled, blood-soaked clothing while she turned on the water, checked the flow and adjusted the faucets. “Climb in,” he said. “You too.”
He thought she might argue, but she didn’t. She stripped off her filthy clothes, dropped them into the pile with his and climbed into the tub. For a while, they just soaked, and he grew more comfortable as the warm water eased his muscle cramps.
He stroked her back, following the delicate ripple of her spine. God, he loved her body, her sleek skin, those gorgeous legs, the soft swell of her pink-tipped breasts. He loved the cranky, vulnerable look in her eyes.
Scooping up a handful of warm water, he wiped at her streaked face. “You saved my life,” he said quietly. “Thank you.”
Her face moved. She took hold of his forearms and checked the wounds at his wrists. They had already closed over, but the marks where she had cut him were still long, red and angry-looking. Tracing one of them with a forefinger, she said, “You saved my life too.”
“We saved each other.” With a deep sense of relief and fulfillment, he pulled her into his arms. She hugged him back tightly, and they rested together.
He disconnected again, and only woke up when she let out the tub of rusty-looking water and ran more. Matter-of-factly, she poured shampoo into one hand and worked it through his hair. As her slender fingers massaged his scalp, he let out a low sound of pleasure and went boneless.
Suds slipped down his chest and shoulders, and spread over the water’s surface.
Scooping up fragrant handfuls, he washed her all over, relishing the feel of her silken wet skin and slippery body. Her breasts filled his hands beautifully. Obsessed with touching her, he massaged them and rubbed his thumbs over her nipples, watching the plump, succulent peaks of flesh pebble under his touch. She stopped washing his hair and held his hands against her, her eyelids drifting closed as she let him play with her.
The arousal was there—it couldn’t help but be there. She was too vital, too sexy, and he wanted her too much. His hard cock brushed against the side of her thigh. But he ignored it. Instead, he laced his fingers through hers.
Her eyes opened. When she saw the look on his face, she asked softly, “What is it?”
He looked at her soberly. “Did Diego say anything to you before he died?”
Her mouth tightened. “Yes. He was working with Justine. He said he thought she wanted you to come into the city so she could try something in Evenfall. He said he wouldn’t have done it, if he’d known we were going to be attacked, and he said he was sorry.”
His eyes grew damp.
Her tired expression changed drastically, and she straddled him to wrap her arms around his neck, embracing with such fierceness, he wrapped his arms around her waist and held on.
He pressed his face against her. “I’d known for a while he wasn’t happy. I should have done something sooner. I should have talked to him.”
“Don’t you dare try to make what happened your fault,” she whispered.
“But it is partly my fault, querida,” he said. “I should have seen this coming.”
“No. I don’t buy it.” She shook her head and told him in a harsh voice, “Lots of people get restless, and they might not be entirely satisfied with their lives, but that doesn’t mean they go out and betray someone, or put somebody in danger. They cope with what’s in their lives. That’s what adults do. Diego knew Justine was dangerous, but he made a deal with her anyway. He had perfect health, and he was strong and smart. He could have gone anywhere or done anything else, or he could have just hung out and enjoyed his easy job and the sunshine. But instead of counting up all the good things he had going for him, he was greedy, lazy and selfish.”
As she fell silent, he said against her skin, “I guess you have strong feelings about it.”
“I guess I do,” she muttered. “I’m sorry, but if he wasn’t already dead, I’d probably shoot him myself.”
He didn’t want to smile, but he did anyway. She was bloodthirsty, his Tess, and he discovered he liked that very much.
“Thank you,” he said, more seriously. “Your words mean more than I can say. I’ll have to think about this. It may take me a while to put what happened to rest.”