He bathes me. After sucking him off, all I want is to curl into his scent and sleep, but Aleksei doesn’t let me. He carries me like a baby into the massive bathroom, lowers us into the steaming tub, and begins washing us both at an unhurried pace. I must be more drunk than I thought, because I can’t stop babbling.
“My parents are farmers,” I tell him loudly for no reason at all. “I used to milk cows and ride my bicycle to sell the milk, and I had twin braids down to my waist. All through high school they called me Claire the farmer girl.”
“And you were offended,” he states, his hand smoothing down my arms, washing me or just touching me.
I turn my head, eyelids heavy. “No, I wasn’t. It was when they called me dirty, smelly, and ugly, that’s what offended me.” My brows knit together, and
