She’s under the spray, hair slicked back, eyes closed. The sight hits me in the chest. I set my gun on the counter, strip fast, and step in behind her.
The water is hot; her skin is hotter. I wrap my arms around her from behind and pull her in. She turns and folds against me like she did in the dark room where she was being held captive, only now there’s nothing between us. Her breasts press softly against me. Her hands clamp around me. I breathe into her hair and feel a knot in me loosen.
We stand like that until the rush in my head eases. When I pull back, there’s a small gray smudge high on her cheekbone—ash or dirt from the crawl. I brush it with my thumb, and she gives me a tired, soft smile.
“Now you’ll have to bathe all over again,” I say gently.
She lifts the sponge from the dish and offers it. “Help me?”
My breath catches. Heat climbs my throat. I take the sponge from her hand.
“Yes,” I whisper.
The soap smells of pine. I lather it over the curve of her hip, the small of her back. She keeps her hands on my shoulders, her head tipped back, eyes closed. Droplets cling to her lashes. My knuckles slide between her thighs, and her breath hitches.
I rinse her slowly, watch the water sluice soap away. When I’m done, she takes the soap from me.
Her hands are steady, sure. She lathers my chest, my arms, the heavy muscles of my shoulders. She cleans my hands, careful with my knuckles, then traces the path down my stomach. The air in the shower is thick and heated, the sound of the spray loud in my ears.
She looks up at me. Her eyes are dark in the steam.
“Come to bed,” she whispers.
I turn off the water. We step out onto the bathmat. I grab a towel and dry her, starting with her hair, then her shoulders, her back, her legs. She watches me the whole time.
When I straighten, she takes the towel from me and dries me with the same slow care. When she’s done, she presses her lips to mine, a light, quick touch.
Then she takes my hand and leads me to the bed.
The sheets are cool. I pull her down with me and roll over her, and she opens to me. The kiss is deep, slow, tasting of water and pine. I trail my fingers down her throat, her breasts, the soft curve of her belly. She arches into me, a soft sound in her throat. I want to devour her inch by inch.
But I also want to be gentle after the ordeal she's had. I hover over her, looking at her.
She reaches up and traces my jaw. “Gio,” she whispers. “Take me. Make me yours again."
I’m undone. I lower my head, kiss her again, harder this time, and we lose ourselves in each other. There is no world outside this room, no danger, no past.
"You are mine. Always and forever, mia," I whisper before sweeping my lips over her throat, tasting her skin. "And I'm yours. Only yours."
I feel her tears on my shoulder.
"I missed you, Gio," she whispers. "I was so afraid I'd never see you again."
My throat tightens. "I'm here," I say, my voice thick. "I'm here now and I’m not leaving."
I kiss her tears away, then her lips, a slow, deep, claiming kiss. She wraps her arms around my neck, her legs around my waist, pulling me in. I move my lips down her body, tasting,memorizing. Her hard nipple slides along my tongue before I close my lips around it.
With my other hand, I plump her firm breast and squeeze gently. Her head drops back against the pillow in submission, a moan escaping her lips. She writhes beneath me as I move to her other breast, then my palm glides down her stomach, savoring her soft skin.
She trembles and parts her legs wider for me. My fingers delve into the slick, wet heat of her cunt. She's ready for me. She's always ready for me. But not yet.
I trail my lips down her stomach, her thighs. I kiss the soft skin on the insides of her thighs, then the slick, wet folds of her pussy. She gasps, her hips lifting off the bed. I flick my tongue against her clit, then again, harder.
"Oh, God," she cries out.
I taste her sweetness, my tongue swirling around her, drawing out her pleasure. Her fingers tangle in my hair, her hips moving against my mouth, her breath coming in ragged gasps. I know her body so well. I know what she likes, what she needs.
I feel her climax building, the tension coiling in her body. Her thighs clamp around my head as she shudders, her cries filling the room. I don't stop, my tongue lapping at her, drawing out her pleasure until she collapses, limp, on the bed.
