Only I didn’t want to let her go. I couldn’t. I never wanted to be anywhere but inside her. My hips rocked slowly from side to side as I held her back against the wall and felt every ounce of blood I had in my body start to filter back down from my dick, into all the other places it needed to be. The orgasm had been intense, but what was new to me was this feeling afterwards—this need to hold her and keep her safe. A need to protect her and keep her away from the rest of the world because only I was allowed to have her now. I never made a conscious decision to want Ayda as badly as I did, but as her tiny frame clung to me and the blue of her eyes penetrated mine, I knew that there was no going back for me. I was done for. I was in her hands even though she was in mine.
And she deserved someone so much better.
As my breathing began to calm, I dropped my forehead to hers and stayed there for as long as I could, trying to find the words to tell her what was going on in my head. How could I express emotions I had no experience of feeling? How could I thank her for being there, for allowing me this, even if she never wanted us to do it again? How could I beg her to stay without dropping to my knees and falling apart in front of her? How could I ask her to always stick around to save me without making it sound like the single most selfish wish a man could ever make?
The simple answer was this: I couldn’t.
She had to know what and who I was. Ayda had to know that this wasn’t the right life for her, even if she was the right woman for me.
My nose nudged hers in defeat as I brushed my lips across her swollen ones. When my mouth parted and water slid down over the bridge of our union, the choked whisper fell from me without warning.
“I killed a man today.”
Ayda didn’t do a thing other than breathe as her eyes searched mine. Her chest rose and fell with the action, but I couldn’t read what was flashing behind that special shade of blue of hers. When she finally did move, her fingers found my face, tracing the lines slowly. “I might be the biggest idiot on the face of this planet, but I’m not running. Please don’t try and make me.”
“That’s not why I’m telling you,” I lied through a whisper. “I just… You should know that about me. I’m not a good man, Ayda.”
“It’s exactly why you’re telling me, Drew.” Her handpushed up into my hair and she studied my face. “You think I don’t know some of the shit you boys get yourself into? I know murd—” She trailed off and inhaled slowly. “Deathisn’t a regular occurrence, but I’m not under any misapprehension here.”
I could already see her defiance staring back at me, and it scared me more than any other reaction she could have had. If she was in as deep as I was then there was no hope for either one of us.
“I killed him. His blood is still on my skin. His body isn’t cold yet. He didn’t even deserve to die.” My voice was so low, so quiet, I wasn’t sure how much she was hearing under the heavy downpour of water. “None of them ever deserve to die.”
She shifted in my arms, her eyes closing seconds before her hands tightened around my neck and pulled me close. I could feel her breath on my ear, the shakiness of it betraying the strength she was clinging to. “I won’t leave you. I’m here, Drew. I’m here and I’m telling you I won’t be moved. The only way I would walk away from you is if you made me.”
I swallowed loudly, closing my eyes so she couldn’t see me before finally forcing myself to pull out of her as slowly as I could. Gripping hold of her tighter, I clung to her thighs in desperation as I swung us both around so we were under the center of the showerhead. There wasn’t much more I could say to her that wouldn’t start a war. I wasn’t lying when I told her that I worried about us always being at either end of the scale when it came to talking, but right then, I needed to feel her more than anything. I also needed to wash away all my sins and watch them as they bled down the drain and distanced themselves from my skin. Curling her in my arms, I made sure she could feel every muscle in my body pressing againsther when I whispered in her ear, “I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”
She melted against me as though it was the most natural thing in the world to do. “Then don’t ask me to leave.”
“I won’t. I can’t.”
Those four words seemed to take the last of the tension from her body, and her warm breath brushed over my skin with a relieved sigh. Her legs tightened around my waist as her arms slid down my wet skin to my hand. With a gentleness I’d come to know her for, she pulled it up and under the stream of water, the diluted pink mixture of water and blood washing away the gruesome scene. “Do you have a first aid kit?”
“Somewhere,” I whispered, my eyes flickering lazily to her hold on my hand. A small smile started to tug on one side of my mouth, even though it felt wrong to show any kind of happiness while I was staring at death on my fingertips. “All I really need is to wash this away. I don’t mind the pain, so long as I don’t have to look at the reminders of what I’ve done.”
Her touch stayed gentle as she turned my hand in hers and exposed the palm. Her fingers brushed over the clear skin before her head ducked and her lips caressed it. The moment she was through, she pressed her cheek against it and closed her eyes again, her legs squeezing around me to keep her balance. “I may have to break my own rule and borrow some of your clothes to go and find one then. Mine are a little… damp.”
“You want me to let you go now I’ve only just got you back?” Raising my brows, I reluctantly started to unwrap her from my waist, sliding her body down mine and trying really hard not to get turned on again, which was pretty fucking impossible when she was looking up at me the way she was. “I’d rather suffer than see you get dressed again.”
“Well, when you put it that way…” she whispered, her lips curling at the sides as her hands gripped the tops of my arms.
Searching Ayda’s eyes for what felt like the millionth time that hour, I let the smile fall from my face and just watched her. Every nervous flicker of blue, every flutter of her lashes and every breath she took in all seemed to carry a new weight for me. She’d always been beautiful, but now, seeing her so close without anything in my system to taint that vision, she was something indescribable.
“Even though it kills me,” I started, pausing to cast a glance down at her mouth. “I’m gonna have to let you go so I can scrub my skin clean and take you to bed. You deserve more than what I can give you standing under all this water.”
“Want me to get your back?” she whispered. “Or I can see if your bathroom has something for your hands?”
I wasn’t sure if all this was some kind of weird dream. I’d expected her to run, to look at me with disgust, to shake in my arms and beg me not to hurt her. Yet there she was, offering to help me get the blood from my skin like it didn’t mean anything to her. “Back is good,” I forced out in a breath. Then I turned around slowly, my eyes closing at the thought of having to look down at all the shit that was still splashed across my arms. When I’d opened up on the Emperor, the only thing I’d seen had been her face, and the only intention I’d had was stopping the guy in front of me from getting anywhere near her. It was irrational, it was unbalanced and worst of all, it was unnecessary. When Slater had finally pulled me off him, after spending ten minutes trying to tear me away, I looked down on his limp, dead body and felt nothing buta new coldness run through me. I knew what I’d done and I knew what it meant, but I couldn’t find it in myself to regret it fully—not if it meant keeping Ayda safe.
I’d killed a man, and when I’d stepped away and waited for my punishment, I’d somehow been rewarded. She’d come for me and saved me. She was still saving me now, and even though I knew it was wrong, I also knew I’d kill a thousand other men if she was the one that would be waiting for me at the end of it.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Ayda
It’s funny how different life is compared to your imagination. Sex with Drew was like that. The reality of it wasn’t just different; it was better. So much better. I left him in the bed, already running ten minutes late because he wouldn’t let go of my hand, and if I was being honest, I didn’t put up much of a fight. It wasn’t like you would have imagined in the movies, either. This was Drew Tucker, so the subdued whispers and actions made it all the more profound.
Then that fucking smirk was back.
