Synching With the Devil's Son

Chapter 28

Bella's P.O.V.

'Holyshit, Holyshit, Holyshit, Holyshit,' I chant as I race back to the clearing where Lucien left the hot pot of water for me to bathe with. He wasn't being facetious about giving me privacy to clean up in. He left me to go wash in the river. I saw him strip, saw the extraordinary muscles of his back, legs and buttocks slide and contract as he was disrobing. He must be carved by one of the masters of the Renaissance because he is absolute perfection, hard and toned everywhere, and I know I will have the image of him at the water's edge burned into my memory for the rest of my life.

When I get back to my still steaming pot of water, I grab the lid's handle and immediately drop it, blowing on the burn my fingers
endured. What the Hell? Lucien carried this all the way from camp? Still flustered, I ignore the burn and start taking off my bloodied clothing, wrapping them around my hand so I can remove the lid of the pot. I dip a wash cloth into the water and add soap to the cloth, foaming it up. I splash a little water onto my torso and then start cleaning all the filth and debris off me. I meticulously clean all my scratches and scrub where blood has stained my skin. It feels heavenly to be clean again, and I start to hum as I don my fresh clothes. I still want to wash my hair, but I'm not clear on how I'll accomplish that. My inner Goddess tells me to ask Lucien to help and see where that leads, but I tell her to shut up because she's a fake Goddess and has no right intruding on my rational thought processes. I guess I'll have to wash my hair in the river, but I don't want to accidentally stumble upon a naked Lucien, cleaning himself in the cold water. I need to figure out where he is first.

"Lucien, are you there?" I call out to him. In a few minutes, I see him walking toward me, dressed in the shirt and shorts he wore out here.

"All set?" he asks with a smirk on his face. Did he see me when I dashed away from his spot on the river? Oh no, no, no, please no!

I swallow and nod, but before he grabs for the pot I tell him to be careful because I just burned my hand on the pot's lid. He looks at me strangely and before I can think about that look, I tell him I want to wash my hair, asking him if he thinks I should do it in the river. He inspects the pot and determines there is plenty of water in it to wash my hair with.

"The river is freezing, and you're probably warm and comfortable. Why don't you let me I help you?"

My inner Goddess high fives herself, but I grit my teeth and shake my head. "How are you going to do that? The pot is still hot," I point out, and then look at the burn on my hand. "How did you carry it out here without oven mitts anyway?" I ask him, cocking my head.

For a moment he looks like a deer caught in the headlights, but he gets control of himself quickly. Ignoring my question, he reaches into the water to test its temperature. "How about if I pour water over your head to wet it, you can shampoo your hair, then I'll pour the rest of it to rinse you off." He looks at me, waiting for an answer. The idea of having clean hair is too much to resist, so I drop the inquiry and nod my head in agreement.

I start unbuttoning my blouse and I turn toward him, noticing how he's watching my fingers very carefully. "Don't get any ideas," I tease him, more harshly than I meant to. I still have a hard time undressing in front of anybody, let alone a very sexy man I'm beginning to become immensely attracted to. I see him swallow, nod his head and avert his eyes. Good boy.

I hang my shirt from a low lying tree branch, leaving my white lacy bra on. I stand behind one of the rocks, place my towel over it and lean my head down. Lucien get's the gist of what I'm doing and walks over to me with his shirt wrapped around his hands so he can carry the pot over to me.

"Ready?" he asks quietly. At my nod he dribbles warm water over my head, and I groan in appreciation. I hear him suck in a breath, but before I consider what that noise means, I hold my hand out for my shampoo bottle. I soap up quickly and then lean over again. This time he's more deliberate in his pour, starting at the nape of my neck and finishing at the top of my head. I use my hands to clear the suds and water from my hair, and when I'm done, I stand off the rock a little so he can hand me my towel. I thank him and then stand up straight to look at him, my towel wrapped around my head like a turban. He hasn't moved, and when I glance at his crotch, I see a very noticeable bulge behind his zipper that continues toward his left leg. Instead of scaring me, it makes me feel feminine and in control. I smile at him as I put my shirt back on, buttoning up to just above my cleavage. He's still staring at me as he stands, motionless, like he's been casted in hardened wax. I snap my fingers at him, "Earth to Lucien," I say, waving my hands in front of his face. The most adorable blush creeps up his neck and into his cheeks, and it makes my inner goddess start doing handstands.

"Should we go back? I bet breakfast is ready," I tell him, trying to get a hold of my own libido. He nods, grabs the now empty pot, and we head back to the campsite.