He glanced at her to confirm she was joking, not that it mattered to him either way. “I wouldn’t care if you did. I told you, I’m not going to judge you for anything you’ve done in the past. Or anyone.” He paused. “Except that guy. He’s a fucking prick.”
“He sure is,” Merritt confirmed, her voice laced with bitterness.
They drove in silence for a little longer as Niko worked up the courage to say what had actually been bothering him.
“Why weren’t you disagreeing with him, though?”
She looked at him sharply. “Did you miss the part where I poured both our drinks on him?”
“After he insultedyou,” he said. She shifted, readjusting her seatbelt like it was choking her.
“That was just the last straw.” She looked away and exhaled audibly before turning back to him. “I didn’t want to…he doesn’t know anything about you. He’s meaningless to me. He’s a meaningless person. Who fucking cares what he thinks about us? Why should I waste my energy trying to change his mind? He’s jealous, and he was lashing out because you’re young and hot and that makes him feel inadequate. I’m not going to validate that.”
Niko turned that over in his mind, but it didn’t feel satisfying. He had a vision of Merritt saying the same thing about him to a future lover:He’s meaningless to me.The thought made him want to hurl.
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, overtaken with a restless energy that he didn’t know what to do with.
“Okay,” he said, and it was the last word either of them said until they pulled up to their rental.
When they got out of the car, Niko was unsure what wasgoing to happen next—whether they were going to fight more, whether what they had just done could even be considered fighting—but Merritt moved with purpose, so he followed.
She walked through the house straight to the patio, her hand coming to her lower back to unzip her dress, then pulling it over her head, followed by her bra and underwear. Without looking back at him, she descended the steps into the pool, her skin glowing blue-green from the illumination of the water, the reflection rippling over the vines and flowers winding up her spine.
The first time he’d traced his fingers over that tattoo, she’d told him it had been the most painful by far. She’d gotten it right after she’d left treatment—half celebration, half punishment. She’d also told him she’d regretted it almost immediately, that she thought the final result was tacky. But it was part of her now, so she had to learn to love it anyway.
Once she was in up to her waist, she finally glanced over her shoulder at him.
When he met her eyes, any lingering resentment disintegrated. He pulled his T-shirt over his head, unbuckled his belt, kicked off his shoes, and within thirty seconds he had waded in next to her. The water was warmer than he expected, and he brought his hands to her hips, pulling her into him as they sank in up to their necks.
He kissed her, her arms and legs wrapping tightly around him, locking them as close together as humanly possible, their skin warm and smooth and slippery, the sensation overwhelming.
“I’m so sorry,” she said against his lips, her voice hitching. “I’m so sorry, Niko.”
His hands traced her frame, the one he could draw blindfolded now if he had to, and he waded deeper into the center, asdeep as he could go and still stand. She continued to murmur apologies between kisses, but he couldn’t even remember what she was apologizing for when she rocked against him like that, their movements growing more heated, little whimpers escaping her. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore, and he lifted her up out of the pool.
“Inside?” he asked, and she nodded, both of them abandoning their clothes on the pool deck as he set her on her feet and followed her inside. Soon, they were tumbling into bed, the room dark and hushed apart from a sliver of moonlight cutting a harsh slice across the center.
He couldn’t tell if he wanted it to be hard or soft, and it seemed like she couldn’t, either, kissing slowly and tenderly, with strokes and caresses—then, her biting his shoulder so hard he thought she might have broken the skin. Then, his fingers digging into her hips. Then, him sucking a dark red bruise on her inner thigh, her nails clawing at him desperately.
It felt like they were trying to have a conversation, one they weren’t brave enough to have in words. Like something about tonight had triggered some primal need to leave their mark on each other while they still could.
He slid his fingers between her legs, finding her wet and ready, but when he glanced up at her face, it seemed like her attention was drifting, her eyes going vacant.
“Hey,” he said, gently touching her jaw with his other hand, and she met his eyes, her expression shifting to full awareness again. “Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”
She shook her head. “No,” she breathed. “Sorry. This, um. This happens sometimes. Just keep going.”
He hesitated, uncertain, but did what he was told. As soon as he started again, though, she barely reacted, her face once again going blank, and he knew something was really wrong.
“Merritt.” He gathered her hands in his. “Talk to me. What do you need? What can I do?”
She blinked again, rapidly this time, like she was trying to come back into herself. Her hands started shaking violently, followed by her whole body.
“Can you get me some ice? Please?” she asked, her jaw tightening against the chattering of her teeth, and he was on his feet, hardly noticing his erection bobbing comically as he walked naked into the kitchen. He opened the freezer, scooping out a handful of ice into his bare hands and carrying it back into the bedroom.
When he returned, she’d propped herself against the headboard and wrapped herself in the duvet, with just her head peeking out of the top. She looked up at him, smiling weakly. “Thanks. Can you put it in a bag or something?”
“Right. Right. Of course. Sorry.”
