“No, darling.” Dante’s voice was soft but firm, his warm breath fanning my neck in contrast to the chill that’d frosted my skin. His hands engulfed mine, and he slowly guided my fists apart, easing the robe away from my body. “Look at Luca.”
My husband’s familiar touch warmed my face as he cupped my cheeks, calling my attention back to him. I fell into his caramel gaze, allowing myself to be utterly consumed by the depth of his love.
“I’ve got you,” he promised.
I released my tight grip on the robe so that I could cling to his broad shoulders, my fingers flexing into his muscles. Nothing could harm me when Luca was holding me.
Dante slowly parted the robe, and although a shiver raced over my skin when it slid down my arms and revealed my breasts, I didn’t struggle or cry. The dark memories hovered at the edges of my mind, but the fierce men holding me kept the worst effects of the trauma at bay.
“Let go of Luca,” Dante murmured in my ear, cajoling rather than commanding.
I hesitated to release my husband, but Dante pressed a tender kiss to my shoulder.
“He’s going to hold you the whole time,” he promised. “You have to get in the bath first.”
Reluctantly, I pried my fingers free from Luca’s shoulders and allowed the robe to slide to the floor. Before I could shiver with cold, my husband’s arms closed around me, and he held me close as he eased both of us into the tub.
“You’re doing so well,” he praised. “Good girl.”
I buried my face in his chest and breathed him in as we sank into the warm water. Dante sat beside the tub, with us but apart. He didn’t impose himself on me, but he did roll up his sleeves to reveal his corded forearms.
“Relax,” he urged. “And tell me if anything hurts too much.”
A few of the bruises that covered me flared with pain at the firm contact with Luca’s hard body, but I didn’t care. I welcomed that slight discomfort because it grounded me to him. And with the mild drugs still swirling in my system, the worst of it was dulled.
I settled with my back pressed to Luca’s chest, his imposing frame enfolding mine. The men didn’t speak to one another again, but they both lathered up their hands and began to gently wash my abused body. With every brush of their soap-slicked hands, the sense that grime coated my skin began to slide away.
The Russians had groped me, used me. Their cruel, grasping fingers had pressed dark bruises into my arms, my legs, my hips. And they’d…
“Breathe, Nora,” Dante commanded. He pressed his palm over my racing heart, right between my breasts. “Deep breath in.” His glittering green eyes filled my world, and my lungs expanded. “Very good, darling. Again.”
I obeyed, and oxygen flooded my system, making me slightly lightheaded. Everything seemed slightly surreal, the world going soft around the edges as my traumatic memories receded.
“Touch her.” Dante rumbled the command at Luca, but he didn’t take his eyes off me.
“She doesn’t need that right now,” my husband growled.
Dante’s hand eased from my sternum to cup my breast, his fingers lightly tracing around my nipple. I squirmed against Luca as an echo of fear pulsed alongside pleasure.
“It’s exactly what she needs,” Dante replied steadily. “My wife deserves pleasure and intimacy. Those Russian bastards won’t take that from her.”
“She’s still hurt,” Luca’s chest rumbled against my back, and I leaned into his fierce strength.
“And you won’t cause her any pain,” Dante said, calm and confident rather than antagonistic. He was my lifeline, and he wouldn’t waver. He wouldn’t bend or compromise.
Luca’s touch was hesitant as he cupped my other breast, his fingers testing my peaked nipple. “You want this, kitten?” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.
“I want you,” I whispered raggedly.
I wanted my husband’s touch to erase what the Bratva had done to me. I wanted him to take the nightmares away.
And I couldn’t seem to break from Dante’s intense gaze. The man who had once been my monster was now my anchor, keeping me bound to reality when I might’ve been dragged into darkness at the contact with my most intimate areas.
“You’re so brave, Nora,” Dante praised. “The bravest woman I know.”
With his free hand, he lifted mine from the water and brushed a kiss over my knuckles. His other continued to massage my breast, stimulating me and coaxing pleasure from my ravaged body. Luca’s hand was firm on my other breast, toying with my nipple in the way he knew I liked. He handled me more gently than usual, but I couldn’t take harsher treatment at the moment. And cruel, sadistic Dante stroked me as carefully as though I was a kitten.
“Touch her clit,” he ordered Luca.
