“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Well, showers are for cleaning, baths are for relaxing. Come on, let’s run one.”
She nibbled at her bottom lip, the action so innocent that he could have groaned. “Together?”
Dean chuckled, amused that she could be so damned shy after everything they’d done. It was one of those times when he felt like he was getting a rare glimpse, something few others saw, and something he’d treasure. “Remember what I said? The environment?”
She chuckled as he stepped out of the shower and ran water in the large clawfoot tub. “So you’re just an activist, huh?”
“That’s right. I’m a very passionate man, you know?”
“About the environment?”
Dean offered her a devastating grin, one he knew was full of desire. “About a lot of things.”
Kat didn’t know why she felt so nervous. Dean had seen all of her already, had beeninsideher, so what was with the anxiety running through her?
She’d walked around damned near naked at Sanctuary, so it wasn’t like there was much modesty left inside her.
The reasons didn’t change the reality, though, and Kat couldn’t deny her anxiety as she sank into the large bathtub, Dean already in and behind her. She expected to keep her distance, to sit at the other side, but Dean had other plans. He grasped her hips as she sat and pulled her toward him, so her back rested against his chest, so she was pressed tight to him.
The water and bubbles soothed her tired muscles, the ones sore from her self-defense training and her general lack of self-care. She wasn’t sure she’d ever actually bathed with a man before, but she had to admit…
It was sort of nice.
Dean had a way about him that eased her, that took her defenses down.
“Nightmare?” Dean asked softly, the lights lowered in the room, giving the place a frighteningly romantic feel.
She nodded before she could think better of it, her tongue loosened from the heat of the water and Dean’s strong body. “Thought a shower might…I don’t know, wash it away?”
He wrapped his arms around her from behind, the action surprisingly welcome. “Nightmares happen. It’s a part of life.”
“A shitty part of life.”
His huff of a laugh blew warm air over her neck. “Maybe. I think it’s just the brain’s way of coming to terms with something, of figuring it out.”
“You don’t strike me as a nightmares sort of man. Not sure you get to have an opinion.”
His arms tensed around her for a moment, and it took a while for him to respond. When he did, his voice was uncharacteristically quiet. “You’d be surprised. I’ve had my share of nightmares. How do you think I knew a bath was better than a shower to soothe them?”
She wanted to turn, to look at his face as he spoke, but she also knew there wasn’t a chance at that. There was this quiet tension between them, as if they both had things they didn’t want to say but maybe needed to? It was a tightrope to balance across, and Kat had to admit, she didn’t want to have to stare into Dean’s face when admitting to her own secrets.
So she didn’t turn, and instead wrapped her hands around his and squeezed softly, encouraging him to go at his own pace.
“You know, no one else could ever get me to open my stupid mouth like this. What is it about you?” He must not have wanted an answer to that, because he kept speaking. “You know a bit about Ell’s past, right?”
“She grew up in foster care.”
“That’s right. Well, so did I. It wasn’t what you’d call a good childhood.”
His words sent a shiver through her, the simplicity of them, the truth of them. She’d heard a bit from Ell, about the uncertainty, the fear she’d had as she’d been sent from one bad home to another. While she’d known Dean had been friends with Ell from childhood, she’d somehow not realized what exactly that meant, hadn’t thought about how that might mean Dean had suffered similarly.
“Your tattoos…” She paused, recalling the way his sharp tone had told her to leave the topic alone the last time she’d seen him shirtless.
“Ell survived by keeping her head down for the most part. Me? Guess I wasn’t ever as smart. I figured I preferred to be the person with the power instead of being stepped on. Ended up in a few groups Olin would have loved to dismantle.”