Emerald & Big Guy

Chapter 9

Emerald's POV

Flora had put down towels for us, but we still soaked the seats. I was soaked head to toe. Thankfully it was hot so I wasn't cold. Xavier was still holding onto me as we pulled up to the house. Thinking I should really say something but not knowing what, I just relax, feeling beyond comfortable...safe. Safe. That's something I don't think I've truly felt since I was a child. After the incident I just try to stay surrounded by people. I don't really trust others.

Xavier takes me straight to the west wing where our rooms are and enters mine. Heading straight to the en suite, he sets me on the counter between the two sinks. I just watch his large frame move around with ease. Curious as to why I'm so relaxed. Most people would fear him on site just by how huge he is. Muscles just rip down his arms and across his back. He turns the shower on and walk out the bathroom, returning with a large t shirt and a pair shorts.

He picks me up and puts me in the shower, stepping in behind me and I stiffen. He turns me to face him, he's scrutinizing my face, like he's trying to read my thoughts. Then he adjusts the showerhead, tilts my head back and starts rinsing my hair out. Its the best feeling ever, all I can do is sigh. While he responds with a grunt. He touches my arm and I look down to see his hand full of sand. I now understand he's telling me, he's just getting the sand out. Which makes sense, since we're both still dressed.

After washing my hair, he hands me the soap and a washcloth and steps out the bathroom. I'm left to my thoughts. That was the sweetest thing anyone has ever done. But why did he do it? He doesn't really seem like the type to want someone in his personal space. How do I feel about this? I like to be surrounded for fear of the unknown, but I mentally keep to myself.

Finishing up, I step out and get dressed. When I come out he's freshly showered and sitting on my bed, in a black t-shirt, white socks and grey jogging pants. I freeze not knowing what to do in this moment. We just stare at each other. I have no idea what he's thinking. His face gives away nothing. He pats the bed for me to sit. I do, and then he grabs a towel and starts to dry my hair. I want to cry just from the thoughtfulness. After about 10 minutes, he pulls the blanket back, slides in and holds a hand out to me. I hesitate for a few seconds and then admit I want this. Whatever this is. So I get in and am immediately pulled into his side, while resting my head into his neck. Loving his masculine smell.