After We Collided (After, #2) by Anna Todd Read Online (FREE)
Hardin doesn’t even wince as I clean his wounds. I dip the towel back into the sink full of water, attempting to dilute the blood from the white fabric. He looks up at me as I stand over him. He’s seated on the edge of the bathtub, and I stand between his legs. He holds his hands up once more.
“We need to get something to put on your thumb,” I tell him as I twist the towel to wring out the excess water.
“It’ll be fine,” he says.
“No, look how deep it is,” I scold him. “The skin is already mostly scar tissue, and you just keep tearing it back open.”
He doesn’t say anything; he just studies my face. “What?” I ask him.
I drain the pink water and wait for him to respond. “Nothing . . .” he lies.
“I just can’t believe you put up with my shit,” he says.
“Me, either.” I smile. I watch as a frown takes over his face. “It’s worth it, though,” I add, meaning it. He smiles, and I bring my hand to his face, running the pad of my thumb over the pit of his dimple.
His smile grows. “Sure it is,” he says and stands up. “I need a shower.” He removes his shirt before leaning down to turn the shower faucet.
“I’ll be in the room, then,” I tell him.
“Wait . . . why? Take one with me?”
“Your mother is in the other room,” I explain quietly.
“So . . . it’s only a shower. Please?”
I can’t refuse him; he knows this. The smirk on his face as I sigh in defeat proves it.
“Unzip me?” I request and turn my back to him.
I lift my hair up, and his fingers find the zipper immediately. When the green fabric hits the floor, Hardin says, “I like that dress.”
He removes his pants and boxers, and I try not to stare at his naked body as I slide the straps of my bra down my arms. When I’m completely naked, Hardin steps into the shower, holding his hand out for me. His eyes rake down my body and stop at my thighs with a scowl.
“What?” I try to cover myself with my arms.
“The blood. It’s on you.” He gestures to some faint red marks.
“It’s fine.” I grab the loofah and rub it against my skin.
He takes it from me and covers it with soap. “Let me.” Hardin kneels, and I can’t help the goose bumps that form on my skin at the sight of him on his knees in front of me. The loofah moves up and down my thighs, slowly circling around. The boy has a direct line to my hormones. He brings his face close to my skin, and I try not to squirm as his lips touch my left hip. He keeps one of his hands wrapped around the back of my thigh, holding me in place as he does the same to the right. “Hand me the showerhead,” he says, breaking me from my perverted thoughts.