Page 90 of Charm and Conquer

I wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her into my side, because I need to hold her. "I'm not joining you. I'm making sure you don't drown."

"Why?" She sits on the edge of the tub and starts to pull off her sports bra, but stops halfway through, breasts bare and gorgeous. "I've run out of steam for this."

I chuckle and help her pull her sports bra the rest of the way off. She looks up at me with doe eyes, fluttering her lashes. "Sure you don't want to join me?"

"Nope. Stand up and get out of those pants."

She sighs, but finishes getting undressed. She doesn't wait for me to help her into the tub, but steps over the edge and sinksinto the warm water with a sigh that sounds like relief. "Why do I hate baths? Because this might just be the best thing ever."

I kneel beside the tub and rest my elbows on the edge. "Want me to wash your hair?"

"No. I don't have the energy to deal with wet—" But then she turns her head and looks at me and her expression changes. She tilts her head back against the tub. "Maybe that wouldn't be so bad."

She's adorable, but I hate seeing her like this, weak and groggy. "You need to stop pushing so hard, Clover. Take better care of yourself."

"That's what I meant. If I drown in this bathtub, you get the gym. If I'm sick with a bum knee, you get the gym. You should be encouraging me to run myself into the ground."

Heat flares in my chest and it's all I can do not to wring the life out of the shampoo bottle I'm squeezing. "Dunk your head, Empress." My teeth are gritted, my voice raw. I don't want to start a fight, but seriously, how can she think I'd wish her harm? What kind of asshole does she think I am?

She scoots forward and tilts her head back to wet her hair. When she sits up, her expression is sad. "You're mad at me."

This is a side of Clover I haven't seen before. She's usually so tough, laughing everything off, or challenging me. That she's showing this vulnerable side, makes me more protective. If she asked right now, I'm not sure I wouldn't agree to back off and let her have the gym.

Thankfully she doesn't ask.

"I'm not mad," I say. "I'm sorry about my tone. I just hate that you might think I'd wish you harm over a gym." I shake my head as I begin to work the shampoo into her hair. "That I'd wish you harm for any reason. I care about you, Clover. I don't ever want to see anything bad happen to you."

"I'm sorry," she says, her voice watery. "I shouldn't have said that. I know you wouldn't hurt me. You deserve the gym more than I do."

I want to wipe away her tears, but my hands are covered in shampoo. "Don't cry, sweetheart. It's okay."

"I don't know why I'm crying. I always get like this when I'm sick. I hate being sick so much." She leans into my hands and moans. "That feels so good."

"I know you do." I go back to rubbing the shampoo through her hair. "I hate it too. I get antsy and grumpy going one or two days without working up a sweat."

"You're so sweet. I don't think I've ever met anyone nicer than you."

I chuckle. "There are plenty of people nicer than me, trust me." I grab the detachable shower head and rinse the shampoo out of Clover's hair and into the bath. The extra suds make it harder to see her naked body beneath the water, which does nothing to calm my raging hard on. I still know just how naked and soft she is under the white foam, even if I can't see her.

"I don't know anyone else who would do all you're doing to help your father when he's such a horrible person. Are you sleeping on the floor while they stay at your place?"

"I'm sleeping at the gym." I grab a washcloth and a bar of soap and hand them to Clover. I look away as she begins to wash herself. "And Dad's a great person. He deserves as much help as I have to give."

"How can you say that? I get that people change, but what he did to you when you were a kid was abuse, Asher."

I sit back on my heels. "Didn't I tell you my dad is actually my stepfather?"

She looks over at me, confused. "What?"

"My biological father was the abusive one. My mom divorced him when I was just a kid and married Bruce Winfield. Brucewould have adopted me, but my father refused to sign away parental rights as one more way to fuck with me."

"Bruce Winfield," Clover says slowly, almost sleepily. Then her whole body tenses. "Oh, no. That's awful."

Is she feverish? Is that why she's not making any sense. "What's wrong, baby?"

"Nothing," she says, but her expression is tight, her voice distant. "I'm done with my bath. Can you get me a towel?"

Something's wrong, but she clearly doesn't want to talk about it. I don't even have to stand to grab the towel hanging on a hook next to the tub. I wrap it around Clover as she stands, water sluicing off her naked body.