Something beautiful.
“Warrior,” I whispered, tracing the cooling letters.
Henry stepped behind me and wrapped an arm around my waist, brushing his lips against the curve of my neck.
“It’s what you are,” he murmured.“The wax will wash away.But it doesn’t change who you are.Or how I see you.”
Emotion squeezed my chest, and I spun in his arms, grabbing his face and kissing him.
Fierce.
Grateful.
Alive.
ChapterTwenty-Eight
Henry
The first thing I noticed was the light, thin, golden slats cutting across my bedroom as the sun crept through the blinds.
The second was Ariana.
She lay on her side, facing away from me, the sheet tangled low around her hips, her hair spilling over my pillow.I didn’t move.Just watched her breathe.Slow.Peaceful.The kind of peace that was cathartic.That could only be felt from finally facing your fears.
I knew the sex would be good.With her, it always was.
But what I hadn’t expected, what I hadn’t been prepared for, was the trust.
Hertrust.
Last night she’d put herself in my hands.Unequivocally.Completely.The weight of it hit me harder than anything I’d experienced in years.Maybe ever.And I wanted more of it.
Something squeezed at my chest as I admired her in the morning light.It wasn’t the first time I’d watched her sleep.But it was the first time she looked like she wasn’t carrying a weight that was about to crush her.
Instead, she looked lighter.Softer.Almost like the last piece of her past had finally loosened its hold on her.
Her breathing shifted, and without opening her eyes, she rasped, “I can feel you watching me.”
A laugh rumbled out of me, quiet and low.
I slid my hand along her stomach, pulling her back into my chest, savoring the warmth of her skin against mine.My thumb brushed over the faint scars marring her stomach.Unlike every other time I’d touched her here, she didn’t flinch.Didn’t tense.
She let me touch her.
Shetrustedme with every scar and imperfection.
“You can feel me watching you?”I murmured.
She rolled to face me, her blue eyes bright as they locked on mine.Her fingers threaded through my messy hair, tugging just enough to make my pulse increase.
“After last night,” she said, her voice a rough whisper, “I’d like to think I’m becoming an expert on what your eyes feel like on me.Not like I had much choice.”A small smile tugged at her mouth.“It was one of the few senses I had left.”
My brows lifted.“What’s that?”
“The sense of feel,” she breathed.
I brushed my thumb along her hip, unable to stop touching her.Wanting her.Feelingher.
