He stepped into my space and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, the wet skin slippery and warm against my cheek.
He held me. Just held me. Andthatbroke me.
The sob I had been holding back exploded out of me. I clutched his wet shoulders, my fingers digging into his skin, and I cried. I cried for the little boywho just wanted his dad to be proud. I cried for the teenager who had to watch his uncle relapse. I cried for the pressure, the fear, the exhaustion.
“I’ve got you,” Cal murmured, his hand stroking down my wet back, over the spine, soothing the tension. “I’ve got you, Si. Let it out.”
“I wish I could just let it all go,” I choked out, my voice ragged.
“Let what go?” Cal asked, his lips brushing my wet hair.
“All this fucking anger,” I confessed, the words tumbling out. “Towards Maverick. Towards Scott. I wish it was just gone. I want to have a relationship with them that’s more than surface. I want to be able to talk about Maverick in conversation and refer to him as my fucking dad without it feeling weird. I want to be able to move the fuck on.”
I shook against him, the water mixing with the tears on my face.
“You’ve been sitting up here upset like this all night?” Cal asked, pulling back slightly to look at me.
I nodded into his shoulder. “Being around them after that… it just felt more like a gut punch than a victory lap.”
Cal placed his hands on my cheeks, tilting my head up. His thumbs wiped away the water under my eyes.
“Why don’t we get out of here?” he suggested gently. “We can sit and watch a movie. Hang out on the balcony. Relax. Just enjoy the fact that we did something amazing tonight. Just us.”
I sniffled, nodding. The idea of just existing with him, away from the expectations of the world, sounded like heaven.
He stretched up and kissed me. It was soft. Reassuring. A promise.
We shut the water off a few minutes later. We dried off in the humid warmth of the bathroom, moving around each other in a domestic dance that felt surprisingly natural. I pulled on a clean pair of boxer briefs, feeling the exhaustion settle into my bones, but the sharp edge of the pain was gone.
Cal was standing at the sink, running a brush through his damp hair.
I watched him. The muscles of his back shifting. The ink telling stories on his skin.
Something switched in me. The sadness was receding, replaced by a hollow ache that felt different. I didn’t want to just exist near him. I wanted to be consumed by him. I wanted to disappear into him so completely that I forgot who Silas Reed was.
Without a second thought, I walked up behind him. I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my chest against his naked back. I buried my face in the curve of his neck and pressed a kiss to the pulse point there.
Cal groaned, a low vibration in his chest.
He was naked. And I felt his muscles tense, felt the shift in his breathing.
He turned around in my arms, and in one smooth motion, he spun us, reversing our positions until my back hit the edge of the vanity counter. He framed my face with his hands and kissed me, deep, devouring, tasting of toothpaste anddesire. My hands dropped to his ass, pulling him closer. His hands tangled in my damp hair, tilting my head back to deepen the angle.
He pulled away briefly, his forehead resting against mine, his breathing ragged.
I knew what he was going to say.
We don’t have to do anything.
He was about to give me the out. He was about to be the “Good Guy” and protect me from myself.
I didn’t want to be protected.
“Please fuck me…”
The words left my lips in a whisper, but in the quiet bathroom, they sounded like a shout.
Cal froze. He pulled back inches, his eyes searching mine, shocked. “What…?”
