"I can shower by myself."
"I know." He disappears into the bathroom, and I hear the water start. "But I want to touch you. And you want me to touch you. So stop arguing and get in here."
There’s no point arguing because my traitorous body is already moving, following him like I'm drawn by invisible strings.
The bathroom is full of steam when I enter. Renat is already naked, standing under the spray, water running down his sculpted body.
He's beautiful. Scars mar his skin, evidence of a violent life, but they only make him more compelling. More real.
"In," he orders, holding out his hand.
I take it and step into the shower with him. The hot water feels amazing on my sore muscles, but not as amazing as his hands as they start to soap my body.
He's thorough. Methodical. Washing every inch of me like it's a sacred ritual. When his fingers slide between my thighs, I gasp.
"Sore?" he asks, his voice rough.
"A little."
"You’re swollen, too." He doesn't apologize, just carefully cleans the evidence of last night from my body. "I like knowing you'll feel me all day. That every time you sit or move, you'll remember what I did to you."
I briefly think to object, or argue, but when his fingers brush over my clit, all that comes out is a moan.
"No time," he murmurs, though his fingers keep moving. "But tonight, I'm going to take you again. Slower this time. Make you beg for it like your life depends on it."
"Please…" I peel off, not knowing if I’m pleading for him to stop or to carry on.
"Say you want it." His thumb circles my clit while his other hand grips my hip, holding me steady. "Say you want me to fuck you again tonight."
"I want it," I gasp. "God, I want it."
He drops to his knees, and lifts my left leg over his shoulder. “You’re so swollen from me,milaya.” He sucks one puffy lip into his mouth and I shudder with anticipation. Then he swipes his tongue through my slit, over my entrance and up to my clit and stars burst behind my eyelids.
“Good girl,” he says when I thread my hands through his wet hair and pull him closer to me. The praise snakes through my veins, heightening the heat, the want, the need.
“Don’t stop…” the words come out as a desperate pant as he sucks and licks his way around my pussy. Everything more sensitive after last night. He keeps one hand on my hip, holding me in place as my hips begin to desperately grind, and slides the other up to cup my breast and tease my pebbled nipple. “Renat…”
He tugs my nipple at the same time as he sucks my clit, and I come apart right there in the shower, my legs shaking so badly he has to hold me up.
When the aftershocks finally fade, he finishes washing me efficiently, then hands me a towel.
"Get dressed," he says. "Something simple. You're not trying to impress anyone."
I nod, still too shaky to argue, and pad back into the bedroom. My duffel is where I left it, and I dig through for something smarter than jeans and a baggy T-shirt. Only my go bag wasn’t packed with meetings in mind.
The best I have is the pair of black jeans I changed into briefly last night and a simple blue sweater. Nothing fancy, but clean and presentable.
When I emerge from the bedroom fully dressed, Renat is waiting by the door, his expression unreadable.
"Here." He holds out a small phone. "It's secure. You can call your mother. You have five minutes, but you’ll be able to have more contact soon.”
My hands shake as I take it. "What do I tell her?"
"The truth. That you're safe. That you're with me. That she shouldn't worry." He pauses. "And that if she's contacted by anyone, FBI, police, your father, she should call this number immediately."
I nod and dial Mom's number with trembling fingers. She answers on the first ring.
"Hello?"
