“Mi nuh wah you get angrier,” I say, quietly.
But the second the words leave my mouth, his eyes shift slow, sharp, and unreadable. He’s staring now. The kind of stare that pulls the truth straight out of your mouth. That look says, start talking. And fast.
I swallow and play with my fingers. My voice is a little smaller this time. “She… she wasn’t exactly happy when she heard the news. She came to me.”I pause, watching his jaw tighten, watching the softness in his gaze drain into something colder.
“Come to you and do what?” His voice cuts clean through the room. No volume. All weight. Mi shoulda shut up. But a long time mi fi tell him this.
“She say… congrats, mi get wah mi did want. Say mi breed fi wul yuh.” Even repeating it makes my stomach twist. I’d never use pregnancy like a leash. And he knows that.
He blinks slow, but his body stays tense. “Lorie say you obeah mi fi hold mi too.”
His voice is low. Cold. But the eyes? Empty now. “Yuh want mi kill dem?” My whole body jerks.
“What? No!” I shake my head quickly, pressing my hands on his chest like that’ll calm the energy building in him.
“You can warn dem… but don’t kill dem,” I say, voice soft but sure. He breathes out hard, then leans forward, his hand sliding onto my thigh.
“Anything you seh, mami,” he whispers, voice husky and slow.
A shiver rides down my spine before I can help it. I press my thighs together instinctively, but it’s too late, my body already reacting. The butterflies are loud now. No control. Mi all a smile like fool.
“Mi wah bathe with you,” he says suddenly. I blink, his voice pulls me out of my thoughts. I was too busy looking at my nails, planning fi get dem done short at Wendy.
“Nickoi?” I say, cheeks already heating.
He smirks, then pushes his hand under my blouse, fingers trailing up my stomach until they find what they’re looking for. I breathe in sharp, head still resting on his chest.
He leans closer, lips brushing my ear. “Come nuh.”
Just two words but they hit low. Deep. Warm. I start blushing, mi nah go lie.
Then he does it again. “Raise up nuh, mami.”
His voice alone mek mi knees lose strength. Why him know exactly how fi talk to me so? I stand, still warm all over. He follows, hand still holding mine. We move to the bedroom, quiet but connected. He grabs his towel. I grab mine. I throw on myshower cap quickly, mi lace just get touched up, and mi nuh plan fi ruin it.
But even as I do that, I can feel him watching me.Look how him a look pan yuh.Like him a count every curve with his eyes.My face burns again, and when I turn, he doesn’t even blink.
“Come yer nuh,” he says, voice low like a hum.
I step right in front of him, heart beating wild. He slides his hands around my waist, down to my ass, pulling me flush against him. His mouth meets mine again, slow this time. Controlled. But there’s still something wild beneath the surface. He starts undressing me with the kind of patience that says I waited for this moment. Not just to touch you, but to own the quiet you bring me. And I undress him too, careful, savouring every second. Because even though his world is violent, when he makes love to me, it feels like peace. We step into the tub together, skin brushing skin, and he reaches forward to turn on the shower. Warm water rushes down like a hush over everything, over the anger he walked in with, over the silence we shared, over the weight he’s still trying to let go.
He adds gel to the rag and starts to wash me, gentle and slow. Not talking. Not rushing. His hands move with intention, not lust, not force… just care. And somehow that’s louder than anything he could say. I close my eyes, let him touch me, and try to memorize the feeling of being handled like this.
Each second that passes under the water, I feel it: He’s letting the day fall off him. And letting me in. I lift my hands to rinse the soap from my face, but the water starts hitting harder than it should, coming down fast and sharp. I flinch and step back, bumping into his chest. He bursts out laughing real, belly-deep laughter that I barely ever hear from him. I turn to look up and he’s grinning, eyes warm, head tilted back slightly as his laugh echoes off the tile.
It’s sweet. Unfiltered. Him.
And honestly? I could listen to that laugh forever. I try to move again but he grabs me by the waist and pulls me close.
“Turn it down nuh,” I mumble, holding the edge of my shower cap. “Mi nuh wah mi hair get wet.”
He’s still smiling as he reaches over to fix the pressure, then turns back toward me. His hands slide around my waist and gently turn me to face him. We stare at each other for a beat. The water continues falling around us, soft now. Steady.
I can’t believe how comfortable I feel in front of him like this. No clothes. Just skin, steam, and his eyes on me like I’m a masterpiece he gets to touch. He doesn’t leer. He doesn’t rush. He just… sees me. And my body moves toward him before I even realize it.
His arms wrap around me, and he dips his head slow brushing his lips against my neck. My eyes flutter closed. His mouth is warm, trailing from the curve of my shoulder to just beneath my jaw. His hands stay firm on my waist, grounding me while the rest of me melts. I run my fingers along his arm, tracing the tattoos inked into his skin, feeling the rise and fall of muscle beneath water and heat. Each kiss lingers. Like he’s trying to tell me something with his mouth that he can’t bring himself to say aloud. And my walls are already pulsing.
He doesn’t know what he’s doing to me or maybe he does, and that’s why he’s taking his time. My thighs press closer together. An image of him, glaring at me, hand spread around my neck, hips rolling, my legs tied behind him flashes in my eyes. My chest rises slower. I feel the ache building that deep, tender kind of wanting that only shows up when love is threaded through every touch.
