Page 39 of Claimed
Nicki blinked. “I—I didn’t know that,” she said, taking a step back though she hadn’t expected, hadn’t planned for him to follow her into her hotel room. But she could definitely roll with it. “I’m not sure my hotel room is as well-equipped as yours is, though. Maybe you should double-check.”
Stefan took another step forward, shutting the door behind him. “I think that’s an excellent idea,” he said. “You can never be too careful with quality control.”
“I’ve heard that.”
He lifted his hand, smoothly pulling off his shirt, and she marveled once again at the perfection of his abs and pecs. He wasn’t muscle-bound from a gym, and he wasn’t corded the way athletes were, but he was somewhere deliciously in between.
He kicked off his shoes, then reached for his pants. “Showers are usually improved if you take off your clothes,” he said. “You might want to catch up.”
“I—” Nicki reached for her shirt, but she stopped when he undid the clasp of his trousers, allowing them to fall to the ground. They didn’t get stuck on his smooth hips or muscled thighs, but fell in an expensive whoosh. He stepped out of them, and padded toward her, working out of his boxer briefs as well.
“Now you’re really behind,” he said. “Maybe I should help you out.”
Nicki couldn’t move if she tried. Stefan stepped closer and pulled her shirt up over her head, then hooked his fingers underneath her sports bra. “How can you breathe in this thing?” he muttered. Nicki laughed and kept her arms raised, but as he lifted the bra to her biceps, trapping her arms, he left it there.
Instead, he leaned forward and nuzzled her breasts with his face, holding her close when she would have flinched away. “I really need a shower, Stefan?—”
“We’re getting there.” Leaving her to finish pulling off her bra, he sank to his knees, trailing his hands down her now-quivering abs. He flipped the tab loose on her pants and pulled them down along with her underwear, but when he would have leaned in for a kiss she stepped back.
“Race you,” she said, kicking off her pants and heading for the bathroom. Stefan gave her a head start, but there was only so much space in a hotel room, even one on the celebrated coast of Alaçati. Nicki squealed as he caught her one step shy of the shower, and he reached over her head, turning the spigots on full blast.
“You should never try to race me to water,” he warned. “I will always win.”
He crowded her into the shower as it heated up and she clung to him while he adjusted the temperature to something shy of boiling. The water pounded onto her back as his arms went around her, and she groaned at the competing sensations of man and hot water, surrounding her in a cocoon of comfort.
“Better?” he murmured, angling her head under the water enough to drench her hair.
“So much better,” she said. And it was. Her dizziness was gone, her heart rate was steady, and she felt rejuvenated despite the fact that she wasn’t precisely clean yet. Stefan laughed andturned into the stream of water as well, soaking himself as she reached for the shampoo—which he took out of her hands.
“Let me?” He asked the question as if she might say no, and she coughed a laugh.
“A hot naked demigod wants to wash my hair, you think I’m going to say no to that?”
“Any hot naked demigod?”
“Anyone I allow into my shower. And believe me, you…qualify.” She let her words trail off as Stefan massaged thick, luxurious shampoo into her hair, his fingers massaging her scalp then down her neck and over her shoulders.
“You’re hired,” she moaned. “For whatever cost you want. Please don’t stop doing that.”
His laughter rumbled behind her, and he slicked the soap through her hair—and his own, she vaguely realized. That done, he turned her in his arms and pulled her to him, the water cascading around them in a warm, sensuous haze.
“Better yet?” he asked.
“Infinitely, impossibly better yet.” Nicki was plastered against Stefan’s chest, the tilt of his shoulders protecting her from a direct hit of the blasting water, and his heat expanded around her, making everything safe. She sighed, and to her own ears it sounded a bit more intense than she intended.
Stefan apparently agreed. He shifted to look down at her, but she kept her head tucked against him a moment longer, until his hand touched her chin, lifting it up.
“You were injured in that ditch,” he said. “But you walked steadily after, no limp.”
Nicki nodded. Her heart didn’t skip a beat, though, and her adrenaline didn’t fire up. Something about the lulling patter of the shower and the feel of Stefan’s arms around her made his questions concerned, but not intrusive, not dangerous. She knewwhat she needed to say to soothe his worries. To soothe her own. And she said it.
“I thought I tweaked my old leg injury. The biking one. That one had been super painful to come back from, and every time I stick a landing I react all out of proportion to the actual impact. It’s ridiculous. I know it’s ridiculous, but I can’t help myself.” She grimaced, knowing the words sounded accurate—because they were true. She was also being ridiculous about her possibly-maybe-never manifesting heart condition.
But that she couldn’t share with him. Not yet.
“And did you disturb the leg?” he asked. “Is it weaker?”
She shook her head, feeling safe enough to meet his gaze. “Not that I can tell. It may hurt tomorrow, but not much.”