Billionaire's Match (Khloe and Nick Hunt) novel Chapter 845

Chapter 845

Khloe’s hands slid around Nick’s waist again, tracing every inch of him, even the smallest raised scars.

Then Khloe picked up the bath sponge, squeezed a generous amount of shower gel, and carefully spread the dense foam across his back.

“It hasn’t hurt for a long time,” Nick said softly, as if sensing her worry.

He glanced back and saw her eyes misted with steam, deep and concerned.

Holding her hand, he drew her to his chest. The soapy hand gently pressed her chin. “Weren’t you going to wash me? Why aren’t you moving?”

“I… I just feel so bad. Even if you say it doesn’t hurt, I still…” Khloe murmured, hugging him tightly.

“It’s all in the past now.” Nick’s voice was low, his thumb brushing away a streak of white foam from her cheek. “But if you keep lingering like this… the water’s going to get cold.”

He covered her hands over his, coaxing her like a child.

Yet Khloe noticed another faint scar near his chest. Her fingers traced it instinctively.

“What’s this one from?” she asked.

“Just a branch scraping me,” he murmured. “I have plenty of small scratches like this. If you checked every one, this bath would never end.”

Her ears warmed, and she nudged him. “Turn around.”

He obeyed, hands braced on the edge of the tub.

Khloe continued to wash him, from the broad curve of his back to the narrow waistline… and further down.

“Do you need to check there too?” His voice was soft. A barely perceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Yes.” Her hand froze midair, her cheeks aflame,

“Then you better check carefully.” His tone softened further, a husky edge that sent a shiver through her.

Her fingers trembled but pressed on, gliding down his muscular thighs.

Sure enough, his right outer thigh bore a faint scar, still tinged pink. Her gaze flickered, lips pressing together as her fingertips lingered over it.

The back-and-forth motion became almost unbearable. Suddenly, Nick grabbed her wrists,

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Chapter 845

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pulling her fully into his embrace.

“You’re too slow,” he murmured, his nose brushing her earlobe, the warm breath fanning her neck. “Let me do it.”

“No,” Khloe bit gently at his nose. “Today, I will wash every inch of you myself.”

She resumed, carefully spreading the foam over every contour, every scar.

As she reached his waist, he let out a low hum.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, pausing instantly.

“It’s… ticklish.” A mischievous glint lit his eyes.

Khloe blinked, then understood-he was teasing her. She lightly traced the most sensitive spot on his waist.

Nick shivered, instinctively grabbing her hand.

“Khloe,” he warned, eyes narrowing.

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