Thirty Three.

Willow.

“Don’t you ever do that again! Do you understand me, Willow!”

I nod against his solid chest, listening to his heart race. It slows after what seems like an eternity and his fingers leisurely trace my spine. I should tell him what I was doing, instead, I find myself unable to force the words out.

He reaches for a towel and slowly wraps it around me, letting the tips of his fingers graze over my skin, making it prickle from his touch. But it’s not like before, when we were in the kitchen.

His hand moves to my throat. “Tell me you won’t do that again.”

“It wasn’t what you think.” I blurt out. My hands lock onto the wrist attached to the hand around my throat. “For a start, I wouldn’t bother stripping, wet clothes weigh you down.”

His brows knit together as he stares into my eyes with his insanely dark ones. I had looked at his eyes more times than I could count and still the depth of them takes my breath away each and every time.

“What were you doing?” He demands. He looks back