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She cried out. “Irishman, you’d better not stop this time!”

I chuckled against her clit, and that did it.

She came with a scream. “Yes! Yes! La—Lachlan!”

Hearing my name torn from her like that nearly undid me.

I needed to fuck Isabella with a hunger I’d never felt before.

I rose, took her face between my hands, and kissed her hard. My cock ached to be inside her, but before I buried myself in her, I needed to get clean.

When I pulled away, she wobbled and grabbed my forearms.

“Whoa.” She laughed, her entire face lighting up. “If that’s you just getting started, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep standing.”

I’d done that.

I’d made her happy.

The realization hit me somewhere deeper than it had any right to.

I kissed her forehead.

“I need to get cleaned up before we run this place out of water.”

“I can help with that.”

She was still grinning when she bent and retrieved the bar of soap from the floor.

Then she eyed the short stool in the corner.

“Here. Hold this for a second.”

I took the soap while she dragged the stool beside me and climbed onto it.

“Bend your head.”

I did.

Her fingers guided me backward until the cool spray hit my hair. She took the soap from me, worked it between her palms, then handed it back once she had enough lather.

“Hold this while I wash your hair.”

I obeyed.

Her fingers slid into my hair.

She scrubbed slowly over my scalp, working the soap through the sweat and grime before tipping my head farther beneath the spray and rinsing it clean.

Something about having Isabella wash my hair should not have affected me as much as it did.

But it fucking did.

When she was satisfied, she took the soap from me again and worked up another lather.

“Turn around for me.”

I turned.