Trapped beneath the water and finally completely naked, she pulls at my arms, plastering her wet, hot body against mine, directing me under the water as she hungrily kisses me, the water sluicing down between us and around us, the shower filling with steam.
Each kiss is drugging, every taunting inch of her naked body against mine a fucking addiction I'll never kick. Gentle moans leave her throat as I knead and squeeze that ass I love so much. My dick aches to be inside her warmth, currently nestled between her body and mine as she rubs against me.
With painstaking effort, I gently push her away, seating her on the bench opposite the showerhead. Her brows raise as I reach for the soap, making my intention clear. No sex until we're both completely clean of blood. She playfully rolls her eyes, holding her hand out for it, but I'm not missing a single opportunity to rub my hands all over her like this. No fucking way. So I shake my head, pouring the liquid soap onto her loofah. The smell I've become addicted to surrounds us, the herby, sugary scent of her body wash mixing with her so sweetly as I take her hand in mine. Working the loofah in soft circles down her arm, I can sense the second fear tries to take over her mind, tries to pull her away from the here and now. I've seen glimpses of what this must remind her of, the memories of it sickening.
"Isla," I say her name to drag her back to me, getting on my knees and supplicating myself, ensuring she knows who's really in charge here. "You did so well today."
"Yeah?" Her voice is soft and tentative, her gaze cloudy— only halfway here, needing me to bring her all the way back to me.
With a nod, I continue, "I'm so proud of you. There are only a handful of hunters who've ever landed a single hit on me. None have landed two."
"You scared the shit out of me," she admits as I move to the other arm. "I thought... I don't know what I thought. I guess I didn't even take the time to think. Just acted."
"You did exactly what I need you to do," I assure her, scrubbing her chest. She takes a shuddering breath, fear filling the room again, but not the fun kind. "Another hunter won't beas fast, or as indestructible as I am. You'll be able to take them out easily as long as you trust your instincts."
She beams, a soft blush filling her cheeks. I continue down her stomach and legs, cleaning any and all blood I can find without lingering between her thighs or on her chest too long. I'm rock hard and desperate to be inside her, but just being with her like this, taking care of her for as long as she'll let me... This might be even better.
"Eamon?" her quiet voice brings my gaze back to her solemn face.
"Yeah?"
She gnaws on her bottom lip, unable to look at me, fighting against how difficult it is to say what she's about to. "I'm really sorry about last night."
"I know," I tell her. I knew she was sorry the second she said it, but hearing it out loud is still a balm over the wound created. "It's okay."
She shakes her head, eyes watering, "No, it's not. You shared something really beautiful with me and opened up to me, and I may as well have spit in your face."
"You didn't mean it."
"It doesn't matter that I didn't mean it. I still said it, and you didn't deserve it." Silent tears fall down her face, likely both from guilt and the embarrassment of admitting it. But she's certainly not the only one guilty of perpetuating this violence. I'm just as culpable as she is.
With a heavy sigh, I ease her hair out of her face, smoothing it behind her ear, "Isla, we've done nothing since we got here but take turns harming each other. I think, at this point, we've exhausted our armories."
A sad laugh creeps out of her, a frown pulling at her lips.
"So maybe we lay our weapons down, yeah?" I continue, scrubbing her neck with the loofah. "Just for a while."
She sniffles, looking up at me with those beautiful, teary, hopeful eyes, "Really?"
"Yeah."
"Okay," she nods, a tiny smile pulling at her lips.
I'm sure I mirror her expression, a warmth in my chest making me grin at this new beginning, "Okay."
Working down her calves to the blood splattered there, over and under her feet, I don't leave a single inch untouched, making sure she's perfect and pristine without any of my dirty blood tainting her body.
I squeeze the loofah, letting the gray, foamy goop that is my blood and her soap fall to the floor, washing down the drain. I try to set it down, but Isla holds her palm out, waiting expectantly for it. I raise a single brow, and she gestures at my body as if I should have just expected her to return the favor.
"Oh, no, honey. The whole point was getting this stuff away from you. You just sit. I can take care of this myself."
Disappointment she fights to hide creeps through her expression, her lips falling into an almost pout and her bros furrowing before she fixes her features to calm indifference. I don't want her in contact with this any more than necessary, but with her admitting that she wants to touch me, her willingness to indulge in this intimacy… How can I deny her anything if she'll stay in this blissful, steamy little bubble with me?
I can't. That's the answer.
ShowerHead
Isla
