Reaching into the shower, I flip the water on and quickly get undressed. The stream from the detachable head pummels my aching muscles, and I groan at how good it feels to wash off the day of sweat and horses and the run-in with Henrik slimeball Pierson. God, no one has ever protected me the way Colt did, and I think he somehow altered my brain chemistry. I’ve never been attracted to the idea of being someone’s possession before, but the way he guarded me and threatened that prick … fuck.
