I didn’t know what to do with this brutal warrior who was so carefully and sweetly washing me.
Xander had nearly finished with both of my hands when I whispered, “You scare me.”
That made him pause. “Why?”
Because of what you make me feel.
I couldn’t say that to him. Would he see it in my face? Would he understand?
“You scare me, too,” he admitted quietly. He finished with my hands and let the washcloth and soap drop to the ground. He kept my hands out in front of me, running his fingers over mine. He touched me like I was delicate and precious and might shatter at any moment.
Then he lifted my right hand to his lips. I was about to ask him what he was doing when he pressed a kiss to one knuckle, then the next, down the line. He turned my hand over, and my breathing went shallow as he gently kissed the pad of each finger, one after another. Then a kiss on my palm, moving down to my wrist, where my pulse throbbed.
And every time his lips made contact with another spot on my skin, it was like he was sending me secret messages.
I’m here.
I understand.
I’m with you.
You are not alone.
I care about you.
His sister had been so insistent that he loved me.
What if he did?
If this was love, then it was the kind that made my bones ache and my soul burn. Fire and flood and earthquakes, just like Quynh had said.
He placed my hand against the side of his face and closed his eyes, as if he wanted nothing more than for me to touch him.
So I did.
I used both of my hands to trace the outline of his face, to run down the bridge of his nose, along his strong jawline, over his cheekbones, along his eyelids.
My fingers glided over his warm, smooth lips. I saw the knot in his throat bob, as if he were swallowing hard.
His eyes opened again and I gasped at what I saw there. I recognized the desire. The hunger. I had seen them many times before.
But now there was something else that made me tremble.
Tenderness. Warmth.
He looked at me like I was the only thing in the whole world that mattered to him.
A heaviness pressed into me as we gazed at each other. Something was different. Things had shifted in a way I didn’t fully comprehend. I ached for him. I wanted him to make me feel whole again.
As if he sensed my need, he took my hands and placed them around his neck. I felt his hesitation as he put his hands on my waist, pulling me into his lap as he had last night. Like he expected me to shove him away. To tell him to stop.
I needed his strength, his sureness. When I pressed myself against him, he gave it to me. His arms hugged me to him so tightly.
“You are a good person.” He said the words against the side of my head and I closed my eyes. “I know who you are. All will be well.”
I let my face fall against his neck. I wanted to believe him. To sink into his arms and block everything else out. Let him be my true husband and partner. To allow myself to rely on him, to let him fight off everyone and everything that would hurt me.
In that moment, I knew he would, if I only asked.
