The Officer's Runaway Wife & Secret Son novel Chapter 92

"I have hands and feet. I don't need your help!"

"I want to help."

He carried her straight into the bathroom.

The centerpiece of the room was a large circular Jacuzzi tub facing a floor-to-ceiling window that looked out over the endless sea.

Rhys sat her down on the vanity counter and leaned in close. "How long are you going to stay angry?"

Clara turned her head, dodging his hand. "I'm not that petty."

"Then what is it?" Rhys pressed, trying to catch her eye. "You haven't said more than two words to me the whole trip."

"Is being tired and not wanting to talk a crime?"

Rhys sighed, looking seemingly helpless.

"Clara, I told you, this trip is about making you happy. If there's something you're not satisfied with, just tell me. Don't bottle it up."

His tone was gentle, almost careful, like he was afraid of saying the wrong thing. It was rare for Rhys to bend this low.

Watching him, a wave of powerlessness washed over Clara again.

He truly had no idea where the problem lay.

"I want to shower," Clara lowered her eyes. "I feel sticky and gross."

Rhys gave her a long look, stopped pressing her, and turned to start the water.

Watching him test the temperature, Clara was suddenly transported back to the summer of her senior year. A sudden downpour had hit Brighton City. She hadn't brought an umbrella and was soaked to the bone by the time she reached the police precinct.

Rhys had rushed out, wrapped her in his uniform jacket, and scolded her for being reckless. After the lecture, he took her back to his small bachelor apartment.

The bathroom there was tiny. In that cramped, steamy space, she had sex with him for the first time.

Back then, he was inexperienced and restrained, kissing her eyes over and over, whispering her name.

Back then, Clara felt like she held the whole world in her hands.

And now...

"spaced out?"

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