Something deep and dangerous and real.
Something that feels a whole hell of a lot like love.
CHAPTER 43
THATCHER
I’m still catching my breath when I stand and pull her up with me.
Baby Girl is so fucking beautiful like this.
Hell, she’s beautiful all the time.
But I can’t just leave her like this, painted in my sticky release, so I lead the way into the shower.
It’s big—built for two, though I never had a reason to use it that way.
Not until her.
The second the hot water hits the tile, steam curls up around us like a veil.
She steps inside behind me, quiet but trusting, and I swear it punches something loose in my chest.
We don’t talk.
Words feel too small for what’s passing between us.
There’s a look on her face—soft, flushed, content.
And I fuckin’ love it.
Because I put that look there.
I did that.
She stands still, watching me as I grab the bar of soap.
I work it into a thick lather in my palms and reach for her, dragging suds slowly across her shoulders, her arms, the curve of her waist.
Her breath catches when I slide over the swell of her breasts.
She hisses when my fingers drift lower.
Still sensitive. Still mine.
I bend my head and press a kiss to her neck, then lower, tracing the damp skin with my mouth.
Because I can’t be near her and not kiss her.
Not touch.
More like worship.
Her hands come up—slow, searching—roaming across my chest, up to my shoulders. She palms my biceps like she’s checking to see if I’m real.
And fuck, if that doesn’t wreck me a little.
Like she doesn’t quite believe she gets to have this.Me.
