"Let me take care of you," he says, cutting off whatever I was going to say. "Please."
So I do. I let him wash me, let him touch me with hands that are somehow both strong and gentle at the same time. Every stroke of his fingers feels like a promise, like he's trying to tell me something he doesn't have words for.
When he's done, I take the soap from him and return the favor. I explore the planes of his chest, the muscles of his arms, the scars that tell stories I don't know yet. He stands still for me, letting me worship his body the way he just worshiped mine.
Then his hands are cupping my face, tilting it up toward his. "Allison," he breathes, and then his mouth is on mine.
The kiss is soft at first, tender. But it deepens quickly, and I'm pressing myself against him, needing to be closer. His hands slide down my back, pulling me flush against his body, and I can feel every inch of him.
"I need you," I whisper against his lips. "Please, I need you."
He groans, the sound rumbling through his chest into mine. "Are you sure? You're hurt, you're…"
"I'm sure." I kiss him again, harder this time. "I need to feel something other than fear. I need to feel you."
That's all it takes. He lifts me like I weigh nothing, pressing my back against the tile wall. The water is still streaming down on us as he positions himself between my legs.
"Tell me if I hurt you," he says, his eyes locked on mine.
"You won't."
And he doesn't. He's careful as he enters me, watching my face for any sign of discomfort. But there is none. There's only pleasure, only the feeling of being completely connected to this man who has become everything to me.
We move together slowly, the rhythm building between us like a wave. His forehead rests against mine, our breath mingling as the steam rises around us. As his cock presses in and pulls out of my body, I close my eyes and let myself enjoy it. It's tender and wild at the same time. This man gives me everything every single time we're together. Our fingers hook together and he holds them against the tile of the shower, holding me steady as he pushes into and pulls out of my body.
Dipping his mouth down to my chest, he takes my nipple in his mouth as he grinds against me, and I grip his shoulders tightly, digging my fingernails into his flesh.
"I've got you," he whispers, and I know he means it in every way possible.
He grinds his cock so that the pleasure sparks deep in my belly, his hand trails down my stomach, his thumb worrying my clit. It's all I need to break apart the tension I've been holding in my body.
When I come apart in his arms, it's with his name on my lips and tears streaming down my face that have nothing to do with the shower. He follows seconds later, burying his face in my neck as he shudders against me.
For a long moment, we just stand there, holding each other under the spray. Then he gently sets me back on my feet, but he doesn't let go. His arms stay wrapped around me, and I lean into him, feeling better than I have in days.
"Thank you," I murmur against his chest.
"For what?"
"For this. For making me feel like myself again."
He kisses the top of my head. "You don't have to thank me for that."
Eventually, the water starts to run cold, and we get out. He wraps me in a towel that's so big it could be a blanket, then dries himself off. I watch him move around the bathroom, and something in my chest swells.
"Dime?"
"Yeah, baby?"
I take a breath, gathering my courage. "I know you're hiding things from me. About the club, about what's going on with Logan's family." I see him tense, but I keep going. "And I don't care. Not right now, anyway. Whatever secrets you have, whatever you're doing to keep me safe, it doesn't change the fact that you're the best man I've ever known."
He turns to face me fully, and I can see the conflict in his eyes. The war between wanting to tell me everything and wanting to protect me from it.
"Allison…" his voice is full of gravel, tortured in the way he speaks.
"You don't have to explain." I step closer to him, putting my hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath my palm. "I trust you. More than I've ever trusted anyone. And when you're ready to tell me, I'll be ready to listen. But until then, I just need you to know that whatever it is, it doesn't change how I feel about you."
His hand covers mine. "How do you feel about me?"
