“Amor?1, don’t worry. I made her pay for every moment. And it was long ago. I had so many years to heal, and I did everything for my people. When you accepted me into your life, you closed any cracks that remained. Don’t weep if some of them reopen. I’m sure they will be resealed with you here.”
She starts to blink again, and I can see she is going to cry.
“Perhaps that is enough speaking about the past for now.”
A part of me wants to ask for more of her stories, ones not tainted by Rholker, but I hold my tongue and stand up.
She looks up at me, her skin still soapy and wet.
I pull off my shirt, and she sucks in a breath.
Her eyes track every movement as I unthread the laces on my breeches.
“I am going to wash your hair,” I announce as I tug down the leather, and my length springs forth. Her eyes are wide, and I can almost feel the beat of her heart, the nerves, as she looks at me. “Fear not. There is no pain in this room. Remember?”
Her pace,I remind myself as I step into the warm water of the bath. It feels nice after so many days in the middle of the wilderness.
As soon as I sit down, I gently guide her head toward the water, still leaving her body stretched out over the rocks, andpick up a bowl that once held a bar of soap. I hold my breath, anticipating her to panic at the increased proximity to the steaming liquid.
She shifts and holds her breath until I pour the water over her scalp. Her eyes close but she doesn’t protest as I work in soap and untangle every knot. A pleasant melody starts up in my Fuegorra, singing to her as her heartbeat finally slows to a normal rate.
As soon as her locks are clean enough, I section and braid the curls and tie the ends around each other. Brushing a hand over her brow, I lean over and say, “Finished.”
Her eyes open, and she makes a frown of protest.
“If you’d like, you can join me,” I say, and let a bit of the memory in the pools replay.
It’s impossible to miss the way that her legs press together. It has always been this way between us. My invitation, and her initiative.
She will come if she wants or she won’t, and I will help to rinse whatever soap remains before carrying her to our bed.
Estela takes a breath and then pushes on the rocks and turns back toward me. She slides into the water and pauses, gathering courage. Just one more movement, and she is submerged up to her hips.
I am frozen as I wait.
She does, and in a burst of courage, she slides down onto my lap so that I am positioned perfectly at her entrance. I gasp.
“For weeks, I couldn’t think of this,” she murmurs and pushes herself down. I can hardly see straight as she stretches to accommodate me. “They took me from you and forbade me from reaching for you even in my darkest moments.”
She pushes more until she is seated to the hilt. The sensation is exquisite, causing my head to tilt back while I groan.
“Thank you for showing me our memories, but I need morethan the past to live on,” she says, somehow keeping her breathing even. “I want a future. I want this every night. I don’t want to fear the water. Everything you promised me is still clear, and I intend to make good on it.”
A dozen meanings pass through her words, but then she starts to move, and every sense of reason flies away in the sensation of her.
She moans, forgetting whatever words she wanted to whisper.
I encourage her as I move my hips in time to meet her rhythm, to make it better and sweeter.
She takes her time, though the time apart blurs my sense of reality. I have no idea how long we spend together, only that we are joined.
When I slip my fingers between us to rub at that sensitive little nub, the release starts. She freezes, hanging on the edge of the precipice.
Then her muscles flutter around me, and I let myself go as our movements turn more frantic. Each thrust is a promise.
And when it’s over, my need fades into satisfied exhaustion.
I pull at her braid playfully, and she makes a sound that I feel in the bond between us. Instead of taking the action further, I ease her off me, acutely aware that we absolutely must rest.
