I don’t believe her yet. But God, I want to. I tighten my grip and let myself breathe her in, hoping maybe, just maybe, she’s right.
She tries to pull back from my arms, but I tighten my hold, fingers digging into her back like I’m scared she’ll vanish if I let go even an inch. I’ve never needed anyone like this. Not air, not food, not the next breath. Just her. Right fucking now.
“Not yet,” I rasp against her hair. “I need you.”
She stops fighting and softens against me. Her hands slide up to cup my face, thumbs brushing the stubble on my jaw. “I’m not going anywhere, come on.”
She slips her hand into mine and tugs. I follow like a man on a leash. She leads me back inside the house. I kick the front door shut behind us and twist the deadbolt with a sharp click. The sound feels final, like I’m locking the rest of the world out.
We end up in her bedroom again. She lets go of my hand long enough to cross to the bathroom and crank the faucet on the huge clawfoot tub. Water rushes loud and steady. She grabs a bottle of bubble bath from the shelf, dumps in a generous swirlof pink liquid, and the scent of vanilla and something floral hits the steam.
She turns back to me, eyes steady, no pity, just heat and certainty. Her fingers find the hem of my shirt and drag it up slow. I lift my arms so she can peel it off. The cotton hits the floor. She pops the button on my jeans next, works the zipper down. I kick off my boots, shove the denim and boxers down in one go, stepping out of them.
I hook my fingers under the hem of her shirt and start popping buttons one by one, slow, deliberate. Her breath catches every time a new inch of skin shows. When I reach the last one I tug the tails free from her slacks and push the shirt off her shoulders. It slides down her arms and pools on the tile. She stands there in her black lace bra and those tailored pants that hug her hips like they were made to torture me.
She reaches back for the clasp herself this time. I beat her to it, fingers brushing hers as I flick the hooks open. The bra loosens. She shrugs it forward and lets it drop. Her nipples pebble in the steamy air. I don't stare long. My hands are already at her waistband.
I pop the button on her slacks, drag the zipper down with my knuckles grazing her stomach. She sways a little closer. I hook my thumbs into the waist and shove the pants and her black lace panties down together in one smooth pull. They bunch at her thighs. She steps out of them, kicking the pile aside with her bare foot. The slacks land half on the bath mat, half on the floor like they don't matter anymore.
Now we're even. Skin to skin. No more barriers.
She takes my hand again, steps into the tub first. Water sloshes as she sinks down, bubbles foaming up around her waist. I follow, careful, settling against the curved back with my legs spread. She turns, gives me her back, and lowers herself between my thighs until her spine presses flush to my chest. My arms come around her on instinct, one banding under her breasts, the other splayed low across her stomach. Her head drops back onto my shoulder, wet hair sticking to my neck.
The heat soaks into us both. Bubbles pop against our skin. Her fingers find mine under the water and lace tight.
She tilts her head until her lips graze my jaw. "Breathe with me, Lucky."
I do. Deep inhale through my nose, exhale slow against the side of her throat. My thumb brushes the underside of her breast, lazy circle. She arches just enough to press harder against me.
"You're not alone in this," she whispers. "Not anymore."
I don't trust my voice yet, so I just tighten my hold and bury my face in the damp curve of her neck. Her pulse beats steady under my lips. We stay tangled like that, water lapping, steam curling, letting the quiet fix what words can't.
We soak until the water turns lukewarm, bubbles mostly gone, skin pruned at the fingertips. She's the one running her hands down my arms, massaging the tension out of my shoulders like she knows exactly where it lives. Her world got ripped open tonight too, yet here she is, piecing me back together with soft touches and quiet words. She's too fucking good for someone like me. Way too good. But the thought of letting her slip away makes my chest cave in, so I grip her tighter instead.
The water sloshes as we finally stand. I help her step over the edge first, steadying her with a hand on her hip. She reaches for the stack of towels on the shelf, pulls out two thick white ones. Hands me the bigger one without a word. I wrap it around my hips, knot it loose. She tucks hers under her arms, covering her breasts and torso, the terry cloth clinging to her wet skin.
I step in close before she can move away. My hands find her waist, thumbs brushing the edge of the towel. I tip her chin up with one finger so I can look straight into those honey-hazel eyes that always see too much.
"I love you, Savannah."
Her breath hitches. For a second she just stares, lips parted like she wasn't expecting the words to come out raw like that. Then her hands slide up my chest, fingers curling into the damp skin over my heart.
"I love you too," she whispers back, voice thick. "Even the fucked-up parts. Especially the fucked-up parts."
I crash my mouth down on hers. Not gentle. Hungry. Like if I don't kiss her right now I'll shatter. She meets me just as hard, hands fisting in my hair, pulling me closer. The towels slip a little but neither of us cares. My tongue finds hers and she moans low in her throat, the sound vibrating through my chest.
I break the kiss just long enough to scoop her up, one arm under her knees, the other around her back. She laughs against my lips, surprised but not fighting it.
"Bed," I mutter. "Now."
She nods, arms looping around my neck. "Yeah. Bed."
I carry her out of the bathroom, water still dripping off our skin, leaving dark wet footprints across the hardwood like we're marking our territory. The bedroom is mostly dark, just that soft hallway glow spilling in. I kick the door almost shut behind us, the click loud in the quiet. I lower her onto the mattress slow, like she's something breakable even though we both know she's not. I follow her down, never breaking the kiss. Towels get ripped away in the scramble, hers, mine, gone. Just skin now. Hot. Slick. Needy.
Her legs hook around my waist, heels digging into my ass, pulling me in tighter like she can't stand even an inch of space between us. I settle between her thighs, cock already hard and throbbing against her. She reaches down, wraps her fingers around me, strokes once, slow and firm, thumb swiping over the head.
"Lucky," she breathes my name like it's the only word that matters.
