“What else was on it?”
“Oh, lots of things. Some things were silly, others not so much. Traveling, getting my college degree.” She paused and I felt the arc of her smile against my chest once again. “Bungee jumping. Cage diving with sharks. There really was no rhyme or reason to the things on it.”
I chuckled.
“Well, if getting a tattoo was on that list, I have to say, I’d much rather you do that over cage dive with sharks.”
“Seriously, though, would you mind?” she asked.
“Would I mind what?” I really hoped she wasn’t serious about jumping into a shark tank.
“If I got a tattoo.” I felt her body stiffen beside me, and she sounded genuinely worried about my answer. It was absurd.
“Of course not. It’s your body, Gianna. Do what you want.”
“Ethan didn’t like tattoos. He forbade me from getting one,” she quietly remarked. Then it clicked. She was concerned I’d try to stop her from getting one too. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Nothing was ever typical where she was concerned.
“Sparky, look at me.” When she angled her head up, I could see unshed tears glimmering in the darkness. “I’m not him. I would never forbid you from doing something no more than I’d ever force you to do something you didn’t want to do. I promise.”
She reached up to cup my cheek. Her small hand was warm and soft, a stark contrast to the five o’clock shadow covering my jaw.
“Sometimes, I feel like you’re a dream—like you’re not really here—and one day, I’m going to wake up to find I’m still stuck in hell.”
“I’m not a dream. I’m really here and I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours to keep for as long as you’ll have me,” I whispered, never before giving voice to a more fervent truth. She had me under her spell, and I was all hers.
I gently stroked the top of her head. Her petite form cushioned against my body as she clung to my chest with her head buried in the crook of my arm. I didn’t need to utter any more hushed words, and neither did she. The unspoken, silent tenderness seemed to convey more than words ever could. Before long, we were both pulled into a dreamless sleep.
34
Gianna
I turned on the faucet for the shower, adjusted the temp, and stripped out of the oversized t-shirt I’d slept in. As I was pulling it over my head, I paused to breathe in the scent. The shirt smelled like Derek, making me smile. Stepping in and pulling the shower curtain closed, I let the water stream over me as I scrubbed my hair and thought about last night.
Derek had created a tranquil, relaxing mood, and I loved the feeling of falling asleep in his strong arms. At some point during the night, I’d awaken to find him still next to me, one arm draped protectively over my hip. Maisie was at the foot of the bed, her gentle snores combined with Derek’s even breathing, making me feel more content than I’d ever felt before in my life. At that moment, I had come to realize something.
I was falling for Derek Mills.
Recognizing that was shocking, to say the least. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I was actually in love with him, but there was something strong there, I couldn’t deny—a magnetic pull that had been present since the day we met. Over the past six months, that intensely charged current had only grown stronger. I could no longer imagine my days without him.
Wanting to make sure I saved hot water for Derek, I quickly washed and got out. I dried my body and wrapped my hair up in a separate towel on top of my head. The bathroom mirror was clouded with steam, and I used my hand to wipe it away.
Dropping the towel, I looked at my naked body in the mirror. I recalled a time when I would critique my reflection, judging all the flaws and imperfections, self-conscious if I was good enough for Ethan. Now when I looked at myself, I didn’t critique my body like I used to. When I looked at it now, all I saw were the faint scars in the most random places—battle wounds that would forever symbolize Ethan’s brutality. I wondered if Derek had noticed any of them last night.
Worry pricked at me. I was afraid he might judge me for staying with Ethan for so long—for allowing him to leave those scars in the first place. The way his hands had so reverently stroked my body last night said the complete opposite—he didn’t judge me but made me feel cherished.
My gaze traveled back up to my face. My eyes had a twinkle to them that I’d never seen before. My cheeks were flushed, but I wasn’t sure if it was from the heat of the shower or thoughts of Derek. My heart was doing an unfamiliar boom at the thought of walking out of this bathroom and seeing him in my bed. I now knew what that all meant. I wanted to erase whatever fears and hesitations I had last night—I wanted Derek in every sense of the word. I wanted to explore and try again.
Wrapping myself back up in the towel, I went to the bedroom. Derek was awake but still in bed, sitting up and shirtless, propped up by pillows, and looking at his phone. Maisie was curled up beside him, lazily gnawing on a rubber chew toy. He appeared extremely relaxed—at home, even. I tried to ignore the way the sheet slid down around his hips to reveal the beginning of the delectable “V” that would leave any woman swooning.
“Morning, Derek. Sorry if I woke you.”
“Nah, you didn’t wake me. I had to get up to feed and take this little bugger outside. Right, girl,” he said, changing his voice to sound all cutesy when he addressed her. It was endearing to watch him with Maisie. The affection he lavished on his pup was enough to make any woman melt—and I wasn’t immune.
“The shower is all yours. Towels are in the linen closet,” I told him, trying to act as nonchalant as humanly possible.
He looked up at me, flashed a bright smile, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. Walking over to me, he kissed the tip of my nose. I savored the intoxicating scent of him and the wash of warmth I felt when he was so near.
“Thanks, beautiful. I’ll make it quick, then cook us some breakfast.”
After he disappeared into the bathroom, I sat on the edge of the bed and ran a comb through my cropped hair. I fingered the short ends and wondered if I’d ever have the long tresses again. My hair had been dyed dark brown and cut short for so many months now, I wondered if I’d recognize my old look—or if I even wanted to.
True to his word, Derek was out of the shower ten minutes later. I was sitting on the edge of the bed when he returned to the bedroom wearing nothing but a towel around his trim waist. Droplets of water rained down from his head, glistening on his shoulders and chest. He was a magnificent sight, and I sighed inwardly.
“God, you’re perfect,” I said, my words barely a whisper.
“What did you say?”
“You. You’re perfect.”
He flashed me a crooked grin and reached for the pants and shirt he’d been wearing the night before.
“I try,” he teased. After he pulled on his shirt, he turned his back to me and unabashedly dropped his towel. I nearly groaned at the sight of his hard, tight ass as he stepped into his jeans.
Regaining my focus, I stood and went over to him.
“No, I’m serious. I don’t think you realize what last night meant to me. The way you treated me was…” I trailed off, unable to formulate the words that would do the experience justice. “Look, I wish I could erase those years of my life, but I can’t.”