Just as my anxiety ticks up and my nerves spark, threatening a full-body blaze, Ezra’s fingers find mine. He gently pushes them aside as he pulls the zipper down to my waist. I start to step forward, away from him, but he stops me with hands on my shoulders. He tenderly guides the long, lacy sleeves to slip down my arms, his fingers trailing behind the fabric across my skin. My breaths quicken at his tender touch and I’m frozen in time as he steps in close, bending to kiss my shoulder lovingly. His touch washes away my anger and pain.
“You’re right,” he says. “I’m sorry. You have to know how strong you are in my eyes. I never once thought you weren’t. I never once thought you didn’t fight enough. You fight every goddamn day—for you, for me, for the baby.” His lips sweep in closer to my neck and he nudges the dress down, urging it to slip free from my hips and tumble onto the tile beneath our feet. I’m left only in my strapless bra and panties. “When it was happening and I couldn’t do anything to stop it…I felt defeated. I felt ashamed. Embarrassed. Broken. I felt things I couldn’t even put words to. I’m in awe of you. You are the strongest woman alive.”
“The courage it takes to let your body have control of you, to betray your own heart and soul because your master demands it of you. It’s—”
“Fucking horrible.”
“Tell me you’re mine and mean it.” I feel breathless waiting to hear it.
“Anya, let me prove it to you. I need…” He hesitates as his arms fold around me, hugging me closely from behind. “I can’t stop thinking about it…about what she made me do. And the thought that I might’ve died tonight without one last chance to hold you, kiss you, make love to you—” his voice cracks and so does my heart. I can’t bear to hear him in so much pain.
“Forget everything,” I begin quietly, lifting my hands to grip his forearms draped across my breasts. “Forget where we are. Forget who we are. Forget about time and fear and death. Forget it all and just love me tonight…worship me. Show me how much you love me in all the ways you need to and replace everything that happened to you tonight with our love. Forget it all and make these memories with me.”
I’m panting by the time I finish and he is, too. It’s hard to be patient with this much wanting between us—it’s hard to wait for him to touch me, to kiss me, to lead me into the physical connection we both so desperately need.
But I wait.
I wait with nothing more than the sounds of the waterfall and our uneven, heavy breaths surrounding us.
It’s peaceful here and that’s strange for me.
Showers are anything but peaceful anymore—the sound of the running faucet usually brings chaos and anxiety into my mind. But the sound of it now, here in this moment where I can breathe, alone with the man I love and safe for now…It’s nothing but peace.
I lean into his embrace, resting my head back against his shoulder. The steady rise and fall of his chest sways me into a tranquil calm that I don’t think I’ve really felt in years. We’ve never been told we could be alone together. We’ve never been given that permission, that time, that space. There’s never been a moment of our love that wasn’t rushed and urgent and dangerous.
He kisses the side of my head over and over again, softly, chastely. I cherish the sweetness of it and a true, happy, genuine smile spreads across my face.
How can he make me so happy amidst such despair?
I’m torn between enjoying the feeling of him holding me like this and wanting to turn around to see his face. But my decision to stay put is made for me as his hands move to my stomach, gently rubbing across my stretched skin. I sigh, loving the feel of his hands on my aching belly. He could almost make this moment feel normal.
But then I’m pulled back with him as he slumps against the wall behind him. When he sighs, I feel it deep within me. He’s troubled and disconnected and that hurts my heart.
His lips brush against the shell of my ear. “I want to forget it all and just be here with you. I’m so stuck in my fucking head and I hate it.”
I spin, breaking his hold on me and turning to face him. I look up at him and see a new sadness in his soul that I’ve never seen before. It shadows the brilliant green of his normally bright eyes. I thought maybe he needed more from me tonight, but I see the exhaustion draining his essence. He needs rest and comfort and a single peaceful night amidst the nightmare we’ve been living.
I grasp his arms just above his elbows and tug, encouraging him to spin around and change positions with me so he’s under the flow of water. I want to tell him that I know what he’s feeling, that I understand feeling trapped inside your own mind because reality is too much to bear.
But I don’t say a word because that’s not what he needs.
The O’Sheas have stocked their guest rooms with hotel-style amenities, so there’s a small, travel-sized bottle of body wash on a ledge built into the tiled wall beside us. I reach for it and flip open the cap, pouring the silky, white soap onto my palm. I rub my hands together, working it into a lather, and I lift my fingertips to my nose, testing the scent. Satisfied with the clean, unscented freshness of it—knowing it won’t mask the natural scent of him that I need for my own sanity—I press my palms to his chest.
I cleanse him diligently, spreading the soap over his pecs, up to his shoulders, and down his arms. When my fingers reach his, he snatches my hands in both of his. I lift my head to look up at him and he’s staring down at me with love so intense, it could knock me backward—and it nearly does.
His voice is quiet and steady. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
The air is sucked out of my lungs.
I see the rawness and truth in his gaze. My skin tingles at his honesty, knowing that loving me means being a part of this hell. For the years of abuse and pain and torment I’ve suffered, his pure, unconditional love for me still strikes me every single time. It’s a lightning bolt straight through my heart that shocks my senses.
He drops my hands, grabs my face, and kisses me hard, so hard that his fingers curl around the back of my head and dig into my skin, holding me in place as his lips bruise mine with force.
He holds me there in that aching kiss for beat after beat, drawing in a long breath through his nose—drawing me in and taking me from the world around us. My hands find his skin without conscious thought, my fingers curving around the sides of his waist. His skin is slick from the soap as it rinses down his body and my hands slip over it.
My intention was to care for him—to help him cleanse the way he cleansed me the night of our first kiss. He carried me to my room, put me in the shower, and cared for me after the first time Nikolai raped me with his involvement.
I still intend to care for Ezra, but I feel him coming back to life with our kiss and I want him to get lost in this.