spray, which only partially wet her hair since it was so thick. She always needed to stay under for a good five minutes, running her hands through the red strands, before it got fully soaked.
Why did her wet hair have to be such a turn on? Water flowed down her smooth skin, over the swell of her ass and in between her cheeks as well. He could just imagine how her breasts looked.
Actually, he could picture that because of course, he'd seen her in the shower before. Which meant thinking about the last time they'd bathed together. Fucking great.
He turned around, picked up his body wash and got to work scrubbing off the sweat, ignoring his stupid dick that was half hard again.
Cindy was a little too quiet. Even with the sound of running water, he should have heard her doing something. Scrubbing her hair, using his body wash, anything. He turned to look at her, and found her staring at him again. This time she couldn't seem to hide the sorrow on her face. "What?"
She shook her head, that sad frown still on her brow and mouth. "Jesus, Jack, your back. I didn't know—"
"Yeah, yeah," Jack muttered, not the least bit happy with the reaction he was finally getting. "It looks like raw ground beef. I get it."
Maybe it would have been better if she'd laughed at him. This whole innocent act was getting to him in ways her seduction hadn't.
"I'm so sorry," Cindy said.
Equal parts of anger and pain flooded him, and Jack had to turn around again before he said or did something he regretted. Like told her how long it had taken for his hair and eyebrows to grow back, the agony he felt while lying in the hospital bed, and how he'd cried like a little kid when he learned he was the only one who'd made it out of the house. "Whatever, it's over and everything's going to be fine after the collectors get here."
Cindy hesitated. "Don't you even want to know what happened?"
"The only thing I want to know is what you did with the baby," Jack said, looking down at her stomach, her still very firm, very flat stomach. She didn't look like she had ever carried a child. He'd seen girls online post pictures of themselves after having kids. Some of them looked great, but despite how gorgeous Cindy was, Jack doubted she could be part of that fraction of a percentage of women who could carry a child without there being any differences to her breasts, hips and stomach. "If there ever was one."
"Of course there was," Cindy said. "I wouldn't lie to you about something like that."
Or, maybe she was part of that percentage. "So where is it? Did you drop it off at a fire station? Because I checked out your living conditions, and there was no sign of a toddler living with you."
That had been the first thing he'd checked on when he took her. The last thing Jack wanted to do was leave a child, a baby, alone and defenseless without an adult around to feed and care for it.
There had been nothing. No crib, no toys, no pictures. Not even a second bedroom and definitely nothing in her room that suggested she had a guy who stayed over some nights. Cindy lived alone.
"Miscarriage," Cindy said, and she was looking down at her hands, playing with her fingers.
Jack's stomach dropped, and the sick sensation of all the blood within him draining from his face and body came next, which was the first clue that he believed her.
He believed her. She had been pregnant, and she'd lost the baby.
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her if that was why she'd burned down the house, but looking at her now, he was dangerously close to seeing her the way he used to see her. She was just a girl, a woman at this point, and despite her dangerous powers, he hadn't thought her capable of squashing a spider.
Really. She always made him do it.
"I-I'm sorry," Jack said.
Cindy was avoiding his eyes now. "You don't have to apologize to me, you know. It was yours, too. I already dealt with it."
If that was true, then why wasn't she looking at him?
"Aren't you upset?" Cindy asked,
Why did her wet hair have to be such a turn on? Water flowed down her smooth skin, over the swell of her ass and in between her cheeks as well. He could just imagine how her breasts looked.
Actually, he could picture that because of course, he'd seen her in the shower before. Which meant thinking about the last time they'd bathed together. Fucking great.
He turned around, picked up his body wash and got to work scrubbing off the sweat, ignoring his stupid dick that was half hard again.
Cindy was a little too quiet. Even with the sound of running water, he should have heard her doing something. Scrubbing her hair, using his body wash, anything. He turned to look at her, and found her staring at him again. This time she couldn't seem to hide the sorrow on her face. "What?"
She shook her head, that sad frown still on her brow and mouth. "Jesus, Jack, your back. I didn't know—"
"Yeah, yeah," Jack muttered, not the least bit happy with the reaction he was finally getting. "It looks like raw ground beef. I get it."
Maybe it would have been better if she'd laughed at him. This whole innocent act was getting to him in ways her seduction hadn't.
"I'm so sorry," Cindy said.
Equal parts of anger and pain flooded him, and Jack had to turn around again before he said or did something he regretted. Like told her how long it had taken for his hair and eyebrows to grow back, the agony he felt while lying in the hospital bed, and how he'd cried like a little kid when he learned he was the only one who'd made it out of the house. "Whatever, it's over and everything's going to be fine after the collectors get here."
Cindy hesitated. "Don't you even want to know what happened?"
"The only thing I want to know is what you did with the baby," Jack said, looking down at her stomach, her still very firm, very flat stomach. She didn't look like she had ever carried a child. He'd seen girls online post pictures of themselves after having kids. Some of them looked great, but despite how gorgeous Cindy was, Jack doubted she could be part of that fraction of a percentage of women who could carry a child without there being any differences to her breasts, hips and stomach. "If there ever was one."
"Of course there was," Cindy said. "I wouldn't lie to you about something like that."
Or, maybe she was part of that percentage. "So where is it? Did you drop it off at a fire station? Because I checked out your living conditions, and there was no sign of a toddler living with you."
That had been the first thing he'd checked on when he took her. The last thing Jack wanted to do was leave a child, a baby, alone and defenseless without an adult around to feed and care for it.
There had been nothing. No crib, no toys, no pictures. Not even a second bedroom and definitely nothing in her room that suggested she had a guy who stayed over some nights. Cindy lived alone.
"Miscarriage," Cindy said, and she was looking down at her hands, playing with her fingers.
Jack's stomach dropped, and the sick sensation of all the blood within him draining from his face and body came next, which was the first clue that he believed her.
He believed her. She had been pregnant, and she'd lost the baby.
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her if that was why she'd burned down the house, but looking at her now, he was dangerously close to seeing her the way he used to see her. She was just a girl, a woman at this point, and despite her dangerous powers, he hadn't thought her capable of squashing a spider.
Really. She always made him do it.
"I-I'm sorry," Jack said.
Cindy was avoiding his eyes now. "You don't have to apologize to me, you know. It was yours, too. I already dealt with it."
If that was true, then why wasn't she looking at him?
"Aren't you upset?" Cindy asked,
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