The Healer by Leslie Georgeson

Author:Leslie Georgeson [Georgeson, Leslie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-07-31T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Alissa

Bracing myself, I waited as Nate turned me around and began lathering up my back with the soap, then over my ass, and down my legs. Soft, gentle strokes. Oh God. My legs trembled. He touched me everywhere. And I mean everywhere. His touch felt so damn good. It made me weak. Shaky. Slick with desire. I moaned softly as he washed clear down to my feet, then gently lifted first one foot, then the other, cleaning each one. I’d never experienced anything so sensual before. His strokes turned into a gentle massage that made me weak with longing. Made me want. Made me crave.

Since I’d just taken a shower before going outside to find him, this shower wasn’t about cleansing. It was about developing trust and acceptance, and not being afraid of a man’s hands on me again. At least for me. For him, it was a deep exploration, getting to know every inch of my body, not exactly a possession, though he stroked over me so sensually, it was borderline sexual.

I was definitely not afraid right now. I was so hot. So wet. Nate could take me in the shower right now and I wouldn’t protest. There was something so erotic about touching, exploring each other, with water falling down on us.

He paused suddenly, lifting my arm for his inspection. “What does number twenty-four mean?”

I opened my eyes. He was staring at the tattoo Enrique had branded me with. I had forgotten all about it. It was a tiny tattoo, only about a centimeter across, but a branding nonetheless.

Number 24.

Heat flooded my cheeks. “It’s a brand. Enrique gave it to me. It’s how he keeps track of the women prisoners.” I lowered my gaze. “I was going to ask you to cut it off, but I never…got around to it.”

He dropped my arm. “I’ll remove it for you later, okay?”

I nodded. I had already discovered in my recent exploration that Nate didn’t have any tattoos, though he did have numerous scars on his body, most of them bullet wounds, I imagined. His body was still beautiful, even with all the scars. He was beautiful, inside and out.

He gently turned me fully toward him, then lathered the soap over my shoulders, my chest, my breasts, then down, continuing the sensual exploration. I closed my eyes and let out a soft moan as he moved over that most sensitive place. His touch was soft, gentle, barely there. Then gone.

He set the soap aside.

“Want me to wash your hair?”

I opened my eyes. “Yes.”

He reached for the shampoo, squirting a small amount in his palm. Then he gently began massaging it into my scalp. I couldn’t hold back the soft moan that escaped my lips. God, his touch felt so good. I closed my eyes again and tilted my head back while he rinsed the suds out, his fingers stroking across my scalp with gentle purpose. Then he squeezed the water from my hair.

“Alissa.” His voice was a husky whisper. I jerked my eyes open, his lust-filled gaze meeting mine.

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