SERENA
“Here, sit.” He guides me to the bench in the corner of the shower, and I sit down, pressing my back against the cool tile.
“Why is there a bench in here anyway? Isn’t that for old people?”
A low chuckle rumbles in his chest, a rare sound I could get used to. “The shower doubles as a steam room.”
“Oh …”
“I’ll wash your hair as soon as I’m done washing myself,” he says. I want to object, and I should because I’ve learned that his kindness always comes with a price, but I’m desperate for someone to care for me, desperate for the man that’s going to marry me to actually want me.
My n*****s harden painfully as I watch the water cascade down his back. He’s absolute perfection, and I’m jealous of the washrag that he uses over his sculpted body.
You don’t want him. He doesn’t even c
