Cellie's POV
I had not known that being taken care of could feel like this.
I had been bathed before, obviously, I had been bathing myself since I was old enough to reach the taps, but this was an entirely different category of experience. Demetrio went through every inch of me with the specific thoroughness of a man who did not do anything halfway, working a washcloth over my back and my arms and my legs with a methodical attention that would have felt clinical except for the intervals where he stopped to kiss me softly on the shoulder, the side of my neck, the corner of my jaw, and then continued like the kisses were simply part of the routine.
