Demons Undone: The Sons of Gulielmus Series by Holley Trent Page B

into the now tepid water after perching her mug on the tub’s edge. It’s not like she was a mind reader. If she were, maybe she would have figured out what it was that made the last guy so apathetic about her. She’d once asked him, “Are we even dating?”
    He hadn’t been able to give her a response right then, but when she’d followed up with, “So, you don’t mind, then, if I see someone else?” he’d suddenly become very friendly.
    She wet her hair and reached for one of the tiny shampoo bottles.
    “Ariel, can I borrow your phone charger? I think it’s compatible.”
    “Help yourself.”
    He grabbed her coffee mug on the way out, hardly looking at her in the process, and she rolled her eyes. There she was, buck naked and accessible and he’d passed her by like some kind of eunuch.
    Maybe she wasn’t being fair, though. She pondered it while lathering her scalp. He said he was afraid of hurting her, so perhaps he had some back-story that closed off some part of him just like she did. She certainly didn’t hold the monopoly on nasty break-ups. He’d said where he came from, he’d had no value. Maybe because of that, there’d been some woman he couldn’t make his?
    She didn’t want to think about some other woman. She didn’t want think about
any
woman besides her in John’s embrace. Even if it was a dream and she couldn’t keep him, she’d close her eyes and let the fantasy play out until it fell apart.
    “Yeah, just a fantasy,” she said as she dipped her sudsy head into the water. And while she was there, up to her neck, one hand glided up her torso underwater to find a breast. The other reached down low and stoked other things.
    She massaged, plucked, and pressed until she put her head back into the water again, and blew out a ragged breath.
    When she opened her eyes, she startled to see John laying on his belly on the floor, and his upper body propped up on his elbows. He stared at her with a wanton lust and she sat up fast and covered herself. With her ears underwater, she hadn’t heard him enter.
    Her face burned, and she hoped he assumed the redness was the bath’s heat and not shame. She reached for the soap and lathered as if it’d all been in her imagination.
    “Do you need some help?” he asked, voice rough and rasping.
    Did she need help? The kind of help she needed would have had her on her hands and knees with her ponytail wrapped around his fist.
    Her voice came out in a high-pitched keel. “No, I’m almost done.” She held up one foot demonstrably and lathered it with the soap bar.
    His gaze traveled down to the murky water where the bubbles had parted in front of her torso. “Are you sure you don’t need me to wash your back?”
    Actually, that sounded nice, but she knew where that would end up. His hands on her waist, on her rear end — teasing her, and her throwing herself at him like an oversexed nymphomaniac.
    “I-I … I think I can manage. I’m just going to shower off the soap and I’ll be right out.”
    He didn’t move. Was he daring her? Waiting to see if she’d take the bait? Well, she didn’t have time to mess around. She wanted to be on the road by six — before all the commuter traffic picked up. That is, if such a thing existed in Arkansas.
    Okay, then
. She stood, her muscles tense, and skin prickling from exposure and pulled the drain stopper. She felt his stare on her back, her ass, her thighs when she turned to the wall and fiddled the handles.
    Cold water pelted her from the high showerhead first, and she yipped, quickly correcting the frigid temperature. Whatever ground she’d earned with that freezing blast, she lost as hot water massaged her skin and drenched her hair. She couldn’t help but to imagine that water was John’s hands touching her. Soothing her. Filling her.
    She struggled to catch her breath. When she turned to rinse her back, she saw that John was now standing. Watching. Waiting.
    She swallowed.
    The intensity of his stare