I Told You To Run But You Didn't (Georgia) novel Chapter 77

Chapter 77

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Finished

Georgia’s POV

“Wait!”

He ignored me, pulling the last piece of fabric away, leaving me completely naked under his intense gaze.

He stepped back, his eyes doing a slow, appreciative sweep over my body, lingering on the marks from the fight and the faint bruises from the night before.

It was too much. I crossed my arms over my breasts, turning slightly away, my cheeks burning with shame. “Look away,” I mumbled.

He let out a low chuckle, stepping closer again until he was standing right in front of me, his own naked body radiating heat. “Shy, Georgia?” he murmured, his bice full of dark amusement. “I’ve already seen everything. Touched everything. Tasted everything…..”

I instinctively stepped back from his closeness, hitting the cool tile wall of the large walk-in shower behind

I swallowed hard, my skin prickling under his intense gaze.

Suddenly, he reached past me and twisted a knob. Ice-cold water rained down, shocking a sharp gasp out of me. Without thinking, I lunged forward, seeking warmth, pressing myself against his bare chest.

Our wet skin collided, slick and hot despite the initial cold shock.

My head tilted back automatically to look up at him. Water streamed down his face, plastering dark strands of hair to his forehead. A slow, knowing smile spread across his lips as he looked down at me huddled against him.

He reached back again, adjusting the temperature. Warm water cascaded over us, instantly soothing, enveloping us in a cloud of steam.

He didn’t move away. His arms came around me loosel, holding me there under the warm spray. Water sluiced over our bodies, but it did nothing to cool the heat building between us.

We just stood there, wrapped in steam and silence, staring into each other’s eyes.

Damn it. My heart was pounding’ so hard I could feel’n choing against his chest. This is insane. How could showering together feel more intimate, more charged, hore dangerous than anything that had happened before?

We weren’t touching, not really, beyond his loose hold Heeping me steady. But the eye contact… it was electric.

It felt like he could see right through me, past the bruiss, past the bravado, down to the confused, terrified, and traitorously aroused woman underneath.

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We hadn’t even started washing, yet somehow, just staring here, staring, felt like the most intense thing we’d ever done.

I bit my lower lip, the intensity of his stare making my kin heat all over again. He saw the involuntary reaction and leaned down, his mouth hovering just abole mine.

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10:38 Tue, Mar 10 M MO

Chapter 77

WW

I turned my head slightly, stopping him. “Estevan… stop

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He froze, pulling back just enough for me to breathe, his jaw tight with barely suppressed frustration. Okay, maybe he could control himself.

He reached for the bottle of expensive-smelling shower gel on the shelf.

“Fine,” he growled, squirting a generous amount into hi palm. He started lathering the soap, his hands moving slowly, over my shoulders, down my arms, across my stomach.

His touch was almost impersonal, yet everywhere his fingers brushed, my skin ignited.

He washed me with a focused intensity, his knuckles ocasionally grazing the side of my breast, his thumbs brushing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs.

It was torture!

He rinsed the soap off me, the warm water sluicing ove my tingling skin. Then he held out the bottle to me, his eyes dark and challenging. “Your turn.”

Right. My turn. Because if I didn’t play along, if I didn’t complete this weird, tense, pseudo-intimate ritual, he’d probably decide the debt collection was back on, right here under the spray.

And honestly? The thought of him inside me before I brushed my teeth after that amazing steak was… weirdly off-putting. Why am I even thinking about that!

Taking the bottle with trembling hands, I squirted the gel, the floral scent filling the steamy air.

I started washing his chest, my fingers sliding awkwardly over the hard planes of muscle. He stood perfectly still, watching me, his gaze making my hands shake even more.

I moved faster, wanting to get this over with, washing his broad shoulders, his strong back, his arms. When my hands brushed against the waistband of… well, nothing… I stopped abruptly.

He just smirked. “Finish the job, Georgia.”

Gritting my teeth, I quickly washed his legs and rinsed im off, trying desperately not to touch anything important, my cheeks burning the entire time.

After the longest shower of my life, he handed me a thick, fluffy bathrobe, wrapping one around himself.

We stood side-by-side at the large double vanity, the silence thick with unspoken tension. He picked up one of the new toothbrushes, unwrapped it, applied toothpaste; and started brushing. I did the same,

We brushed our teeth in silence, occasionally bumping elbows, spitting into the pristine porcelain sinks. It was the most bizarrely domestic moment I’d ever experienced.

Here we were, captor and captive, monster and prey, brushing our teeth together like some old married couple after… well, after whatever the hell this was.

I almost choked on my toothpaste trying not to laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all.

As soon as I finished rinsing, I practically bolted from the bathroom, sighing in relief, needing to escape the suffocating intimacy.

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