Nikita
Our apartment is full when I walk in carrying Savanna. Her parents come rushing over, and Grace bursts into tears when she sees her daughter’s bruised face and wrists. Phil kisses her head and then eyes my bloody hands. When he steps back and looks at me, there’s no judgement in his eyes, only gratitude.
“I’m okay,” Savanna tells them when her mom won’t stop crying. “I promise I’m fine, and aside from the bruises you can see, he didn’t hurt me.”
Grace nods and lets out another sob, this one of pure relief, because she knows exactly what Savanna is trying to tell them. She wipes her face and gives her a careful hug. “I love you, honey, and I’m so happy you’re okay.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
When they separate, Cindy takes her spot, and soon they’re all crying and Sasha is hovering over his wife like a nursemaid, clearly worried about her getting too upset. I feel the same way about the woman in my arms.
Savanna rests her head against my shoulder. I know she’s exhausted, so I make an executive decision and start carrying her to our room. “I’m going to help her get cleaned up.” Theystop me to give Savanna another round of hugs, and this time my mom joins in.
“You did really well, Sav,” my mom says. “We’re all so proud of you, but my heart breaks that you had to go through it. I’m here if you need me or want to talk, okay?”
“Okay,” Savanna says, giving my mom’s hand a squeeze.
When I pass Tony, the doctor who’s technically an Alessi man but also takes care of us, I say, “I’ll let you know when she’s ready.”
He nods to let me know he’ll be waiting and hands Savanna a bottle of water. I can already see his doctor’s mind working as he gives her a clinical once-over before I walk into our room.
Before I shut the door, I hear my Uncle Vitaly ask, “Who else needs a drink?”
I carry Savanna to the bathroom, only setting her down so I can reach in and start the shower.
“Thanks,” she says, and then drinks the bottle of water when I give it a gentle nudge. “I didn’t want to be rude, but I feel disgusting and want to get cleaned up.”
“No one thinks you’re rude.” I grab two towels and quickly undress before reaching out to help Savanna. She tenses when I start to undo her jeans, and it’s like a physical smack to my face. I jerk back and drop my hands. “I’m sorry,” I say, unable to meet her eyes.
“Hey,” she says, stepping closer and cupping my face in her hands, forcing me to look at her. “I only flinched because my pants are filthy.” Her cheeks heat up when she says, “I had to squat on the floor to pee, and I kind of made a mess of it. I was just embarrassed about you smelling it. I would never flinch from your touch, Niki. Never.”
Relief floods me at knowing she didn’t back away because of me. Nothing about her could ever disgust me, so I reach back out to undo her pants, and this time she lets me.
“I was so proud of you when you did that,” I tell her as I slowly peel her clothes off, trying not to cause her any more pain as I do it.
“You could see me?”
I toss her clothes aside, and then run my eyes over her, gritting my teeth when I see the bruises along her thigh where he’d grabbed her, the raw skin around her ankles and wrists, and the swollen, discolored skin of her cheek. My girl’s body is the evidence of how I failed her. Whether she thinks it or not, every mark is my fault. I know it, and she’ll never convince me otherwise. Killing him had helped soften the rage, but it’ll never take away my guilt.
Helping her into the shower, I grab a washcloth and answer her question. While I gently wash her body, I tell her about the camera feed, about hearing her talk about us and the future she wants, and how proud I’d been when she’d managed to relieve herself and how sorry I was that she was forced to do it.
“Your voice kept me sane.” I grab the shampoo and start to wash her hair, avoiding the bump that’s still too tender to touch and ignoring the pain that radiates through my hands every time I move them. “I put in an earbud so no one else could hear, and I listened to you while I tried to find you.” I look down at her and raise a brow. “A son who’s terrible with computers?” I ask.
She smiles up at me, and the sight of it loosens some of the tension in my chest. “Well, he needs to be a little like me,” she says while tipping her head back so I can rinse the shampoo.
“Maybe we’ll have a daughter with a dimple who’s a brilliant little hacker just like her daddy,” I say, and the words bring to life an image that I’m suddenly desperate for. “I want a family with you, Van. I want that more than anything.”
Stepping in so close that her body is pressing against mine, she looks up at me and says, “Me, too.”
I’ve been very careful to not let myself get aroused while taking care of her, but her wet body pressed to mine obliterates all my hard work in seconds. Her smile grows when she feels what she’s doing to me.
“No way,” I try to tell her, but she ignores me and runs her fingers over my chest, sliding down until she’s dragging her nails along my abs, and the feel of her is even more intoxicating than usual because just a few hours ago, I was terrified I’d never feel it again.
“Every injury I have is superficial,” she says. “Yes, it was terrifying, and yes I’ll have nightmares about it, but I’m fine now. I was so scared I’d never see you again, and now you’re standing in front of me, and I love you so much, and the only thing I want is to be as close to you as I can be.”
“Jesus, how am I supposed to say no to that?” I ask, torn between giving her what she wants and needs and worrying about it being too much for her after everything she’s been through.
“You’re not supposed to,” she says, dropping one hand lower to wrap around my cock. She strokes me slowly, eroding every moral line I’m desperately trying to draw in the sand. “Do you trust me?”
