His mother's color.
He pretended his stomach didn't just drop to the floor as he gathered the packages. He didn't let her wear a towel as she bent over the sink. Didn't fluster her with questions as she silently rubbed the dye into her hair. But he couldn't stop his fingers from tracing the bumps along her arched spine and watching her skin prickle beneath his touch.
While the dye set on her hair, she peed on the test stick and let him take her blood and swab her mouth and *. When he told her to turn around so he could swab her rectum, she backed into the wall, her eyes round and fearful. “No. Please. That's...that's...just no.”
He stepped into her space, using his bulk to crowd her. “Ever had a dick in your ass?”
“No!” Her tone was furious and her eyes blazed, but her chin shifted subtly up then down.
He rested a forearm on the wall beside her head. “Did you know body language betrays a lie? For example, the liar might nod while denying she enjoys getting her ass stretched by a cock.”
A swallow bobbed in her throat as she stared up at him with glassy eyes. She licked her lips. “It's been two years. I'm clean...there.”
“Let's let the lab decide that. Turn around.”
“I'll do it myself.” A ragged whisper.
He glowered down at her, giving her an eternity of strained silence to contemplate the consequences if she continued to push him. With black dye smearing her forehead and her hair in a lump of wet mess on her head, she looked deliciously vulnerable. Her chin quivered for a breathless moment; then finally, she released her lungs and faced the wall.
Squatting behind her with the swab in hand, he pried her firm cheeks apart. She was so damned tense, and he refused to fight her. “Tell me about your autographed books.”
The muscles in her ass twitched and relaxed. “They're just signatures.”
“Personalized to other people. Widen your stance.”
After a stubborn moment, her feet shifted apart.
He caressed the crease between her thigh and cheek, thrilling in the responsive quiver. “How did you get them?”
“I bought them on Ebay. I like the stories. And the sentimental signatures. The little notes for other people. Normal people.”
Ah. “But you don't know them. They may very well be more fucked up than you and me combined.” He slid two fingers between her now slightly less tense cheeks, exposed the sweet little pucker of her anus, and swabbed.
Enough time had lapsed between preparing the test swabs, reading the instructions, and collecting the cultures. The color should be set. He patted her hip and stood. “Jump in the shower and rinse your hair while I package up the samples.”
Still pressed against the wall, she looked over her shoulder at him with a strange expression on her face. Dark shadows bruised her eyes, her posture slumping. No doubt she was exhausted, hungry, and still working through her shock of the last couple hours.
He turned toward the vanity and listened to her footsteps shuffle to the shower.
Thirty minutes later, he stood behind her as she stared into the mirror. He'd used the hairdryer on her hair and let her keep the towel tied around her chest. Rich deep brown fell like a waterfall around her shoulders and curled damned near to her waist over the white terrycloth. The color highlighted the dark lashes fringing her eyes and illuminated the glow of her honey skin tone.
She was even more beautiful than his mother. Mesmerized, he couldn't look away. “What do you think?”
She glanced at his eyes reflected in the mirror, her fists clenched around the top edge of the towel. “What do you—?”
“No.” He gripped the counter's edge beside her hips and pressed his chest against her back, glaring at her. “I asked what you thought of it.”
A noise squeaked in her throat, and she took a long moment to study her reflection. “It's...me.”
His chest pinched. “And you outshine any ideal you try to cover yourself with.” Her jaw tightened but he didn't miss the catch in her breath. He placed a kiss on her shoulder. “Let's go eat.”
“Where's my robe?” Her hands flew between her legs, covering the gap in the towel with a fan of trembling fingers. “Dammit, Van. Eyes up here.” She bent forward, trying to further hide her cunt.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. This was such bullshit. Obviously, he wasn't getting through to her. Fine. He would just force her to show him what the problem was. He dug beneath the sink, removed a large handheld mirror and set it on the wide space of counter beside the sink. Then he patted the oval of reflective glass. “Hop up. Legs spread. Knees that way.” He pointed at the mirrored wall behind the vanity.
Her head instantly started shaking side to side.