“I wasn’t sure, so a handful.”
I ran my fingers through my hair, finally finding the hair instead of soap. Jack held out his big hand like a cup, and I knew how much soap he had used. He had an earnest look on his face, like a child hoping he had done well. It made me smile and adore him even more.
“Um, a quarter of that would have been enough,” I said. I rinsed the last suds out, and grinned up at him. “You did well though. Your turn.”
Jack dipped his head under the water, spraying small water droplets everywhere as he ran his fingers through his hair. He bent his head towards me so I could reach his sandy colored hair. It was soft beneath my fingers, thick and luxurious. He made a soft noise of pleasure as I worked my fingers into his scalp, the soapy water dripping down his forehead.
He stepped under the faucet again, water and soap running in rivulets down his muscled body. I reached out a finger and traced one, his skin sliding beneath my touch. I could see him harden, his body responding to my touch. A rush of power filled me, but he held still, letting me caress him.
His body was strong. I could feel tension in his shoulders though, tightness across his back from the strain of holding his father’s company on his shoulders. I pushed my fingers into his muscles, feeling not only the strength of his body, but the hardness of his stress. He groaned slightly as I increased pressure, letting my fingers find the sore spots as the hot water relaxed him. Jack leaned into my hands, letting me work the ache from his body.
Slowly, his back turned from rock into supple muscle. His shoulders no longer held a hunch, and his face was as relaxed and happy as it had been when we were married. He kissed me softly, an appreciative, Thank you, in the simple gesture.
“Are you ready to get out?” The office was out of his voice, but he still sounded tired. This transition was not going as smoothly as either of us could have wished.
“I need to put conditioner in my hair, or I’ll never get it brushed,” I answered. He kissed the tip of my nose and stepped through the big glass doors. I watched him dry off. The steam obscured the glass, but I could still see enough of his body to make the small flame in my midsection dance and burn.
He finished drying, carefully hanging the towel back on the rack. “Do you mind if I use your computer?”
“Not at all. I’ll be out in a minute. The password is ‘vacation’.”
“Vacation, huh?” I could hear the smile in his voice as he knew it was a reference to him. He closed the door behind him as he left, letting me keep the steam in the shower. It only took me a moment to massage the conditioner into my hair and run my fingers through the tangled tresses. Jack washing my hair had felt spectacular, but the tangles it left behind did not.
I stepped out of the shower and dried quickly, ready to be next to Jack again. I grabbed a fuzzy robe from a hanger and stepped into the bedroom, ready to cuddle. The cold air hit me, but it was Jack’s face that made me stop.
He was standing in the middle of the room, his hair still wet and wearing only a pair of pajama pants. Every taut muscle in his chest gleamed as he radiated anger. In his fist was the envelope containing the scholarship information and money offered by his parents; behind him, my laptop screen was open to the email from Kaylee.
“What is this?” The question came out as a growl, his voice low.
I looked at the envelopes. His knuckles were almost white around them. “Your parents offered that to me. They want me to leave you so you can run the company without distraction.”
His hand tightened further around the crumpled paper. He took a menacing step forward, eyes blazing. “What about the email?”
“You read my email?” I took a step back, not understanding his anger at the situation.
“It was open when I turned on the computer. I didn’t mean to read it, but I’m glad I did. You wanted to bag a billionaire. That’s all I am to you. A meal ticket.”
A flash of anger surged through me, first that he had read a private message and then at how badly he had misinterpreted it, but the fury directed at me startled me. “It’s not like that. You’re taking things completely out of context-”
“Remember your trophy wife ambitions? How else should I take it?” He spoke in the controlling businessman’s voice that broke my heart. He never spoke to me in that voice.
“We were kids and I didn’t understand the meaning of the expression! If I had wanted to marry a billionaire, I’m sure there are easier ways!” I didn’t mean to yell, but it came out angry. I didn’t appreciate his accusations. This was never my plan.
He nodded, a sneer across his usually handsome face. He didn’t believe me. He shook his head and held out the crumpled envelopes. “When were you going to tell me?”
“I did tell you—your parents offered me that—”