The Original Sinners: The Red Years. Tiffany Reisz

both need our heads examined.”

      Nora reached out a wet hand and laid it on top of his halo of blond hair.

      “You have a good head.”

      Wesley took her hand and kissed the back of it.

      “So do you. And a wet head.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and dunked her under the water. She came up spitting and laughing.

      “That,” she said, dragging wet hair off her face, “was uncalled for.”

      “It was totally called for.” Wesley took a bottle of shampoo off the tub ledge and poured some out in his hands. He began massaging it into her soaking hair.

      Nora sighed with pleasure as his fingers ran through her hair and rubbed her scalp. Wesley really did have amazing hands. The combination of strength and gentleness threatened to undo her. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to start crying.

      “You’re pretty good at this, kid. You’ve given a lot of grown women baths?”

      “Nope. But I have groomed many a filly in my day. This isn’t that different.”

      “Thank you for comparing me to a horse.”

      “You compared me to one,” he reminded her with a faint blush.

      “That was a compliment. A big one.”

      Wesley didn’t say anything to that. He leaned her back into the water to rinse the shampoo out of her hair. His fingertips brushed her cheek and forehead.

      “Wes, are you okay with what happened the other night with us?”

      He gave her a little half smile as he pulled her back up out of the water.

      “Of course I am. Is any guy on the planet going to complain about that?”

      “I was just worried that maybe, I don’t know, you thought I took advantage of you in your weakened condition.”

      “I had a hard-on, not cancer. I don’t think we should make a habit of it, but I don’t know.” He wiped the soap off her face with a dry towel. “I liked it. Nothing more to it.”

      “Is there more to this?” She nodded at her naked body hidden under the bubbles.

      “Sometimes a bath’s just a bath,” he said and flicked water at her.

      She laughed as Wesley took the bottle of conditioner off the shelf and began running it through her hair. Before she realized it, tears were mingling with the water and running down her face. She knew Wesley saw but he said nothing, just kept scrubbing her down.

      “Søren used to give me baths.” She grabbed the towel and swiped at the tears. “It’s a very dominant thing to be completely clothed while your lover is naked.”

      “I gotta tell you, I don’t feel a bit dominant right now.”

      “What do you feel?”

      He looked at her, looked like he was going to say something to her.

      “I’m just glad you’re home. Wet and naked isn’t bad, either.”

      Nora leaned back into the water and did her best to rinse the conditioner out of her hair while Wesley stood up and unfurled a clean towel.

      “Don’t look,” she said.

      Wesley laughed but didn’t object. Closing his eyes he turned his head away. Nora rose out of the water and stepped into the towel. With his eyes still closed, he wrapped it around her. She burst into surprised laughter when he lifted her off her feet and hoisted her over his shoulder. He threw her wet body, towel and all, down on the bed.

      “Are you going to ravish me now?” she asked even though she already knew the answer.

      “I’m going to dress you. Where are your pj’s?”

      “The dirty laundry I think. I’ve been gone a few days. Sort of let the laundry go.”

      “How about this?” Wesley left her for less than a minute while he ran back to his room. He returned with a clean pair of his boxer shorts and one of his T-shirts. “Good enough?”

      “Perfect.” She slid the shorts on under the towel. Wesley turned his head again when she dropped the towel and pulled his T-shirt on. Sliding into his clothes felt like being in his arms—they were warm and clean and smelled like a summer morning.

      She toweled her hair and squeezed as much water out of it as she could while Wesley pulled the covers back. She crawled into her bed and was relieved by the familiar scent of her sheets, the familiar fabric and Wesley so close by.

      “What time is it?” The past few days time had poured through her hands like water. She only knew it was Wednesday because that was the day that came before Thursday.

      “Almost midnight.” Wesley dragged the covers over her. She sighed with pleasure, feeling human for the first time since last Friday.

      “Almost Thursday.” Nora saw a veil fall over Wesley’s eyes. He knew exactly what tomorrow was.

      “You’re gonna go see him?” Wesley sat next to her.

      She scooted closer and looked up at him with tired eyes.

      “I have to.”

      He nodded. He usually argued with her whenever she said she “had” to do something he knew she didn’t have to do. This time he seemed to understand.

      “You still love him, don’t you?”

      Nora smiled sadly up at him.

      “Many waters.” She ran a hand through her wet hair and let water drop from her fingertips to the floor.

      “‘Many waters cannot quench love,’” Wesley finished the quote. “‘Rivers cannot wash it away.’”

      “‘Nor will rivers overflow it,’” she corrected. “Catholics use the New American.”

      “N.I.V.—it’s what we use in youth group.”

      “I won’t let him hurt me. I promised you I wouldn’t. I just have to see him. That’s all.”

      “Okay,” he said. “But you’ll come home tomorrow night?”

      “Yeah, I’ll come home.”

      Wesley nodded and slid off the side of the bed. He started unbuttoning his jeans.

      “What are you doing?” she asked as he took off his pants and threw them on a nearby chair.

      “Told you. It’s almost midnight. Scoot over.”

      He stripped out of his T-shirt and Nora moved over to let him slide in next to her. Turning off the bedside lamp, Wesley gathered her to him. She breathed slowly, relaxed onto his chest and melted into his arms. She didn’t deserve him, didn’t deserve this. He knew she would see Søren tomorrow, and he didn’t hate her for it. She might hate herself, but Wesley would never hate her.

      Nora traced his collarbone with her fingertips while Wesley slipped his hand under her shirt and slowly kneaded her lower back. She almost laughed at this foreign sensation—for once in her life she lay in bed with a gorgeous young man, and she had absolutely no desire to seduce him.

      “We’re both wearing your underwear,” Nora said after a long silence.

      “Could be worse. We both could be wearing your underwear.”

      She smiled, knowing that even more than the bath, just having Wesley so close to her made her feel clean and sane again. When Søren touched her she became his. When Wesley touched her, she became herself.

      Nora’s hand slid from his chest to his arm. Wesley had twice the muscle she did. He could hurt someone so much more easily than she could, and yet she knew he would never hurt anyone unless he was trying to protect someone else. She’d seen that with her own eyes.