“Yes,” I confess. “But they’re not the ones responsible for the scars or the tattoo.” I grab the shampoo from the shelf and create a lather in my hand.
“Tell me,” he begs as I work my hands through his hair and massage his scalp. The warm water cascades down his back, mixing with the suds.
“You’ll run,” I worry my lower lip between my teeth, unsure if I should reveal the truth. “Everyone always runs.”
“I won’t run,” he assures me, grabbing me around the waist and pulling me closer. “I’m not that easily scared away.”
“There wasn’t just one incident, Aiden,” I fight to stop my lip from wobbling.
“Then I’ll dig multiple fucking graves.”
I actually think he means that.
“Tell me, Katie,” he pleads, his eyes searching mine for answers.
Something inside me snaps—something very fucking dark and painful. “What do you want to know, Aiden? I grew up with two raging alcoholics who made my childhood a living hell. Someone I thought was a friend forced me into giving him a blowjob before I was ten. I was groomed by another two “friends” before I hit puberty. I was raped in broad daylight at the age of fifteen, and two women saw it happen and just carried on fucking walking! That I denied a three-way with another “friend” and her fiancé, and they got me so plastered that I woke up the next morning in a puddle of my own puke with little to no memory of what happened. I have never been able to achieve climax with a partner because the trauma andabuse I endured have left my body so horribly scarred. I’ve never been able to enjoy sex, even when I wanted it, because my body shuts down. Is that what you want to fucking know, Aiden?” Tears flow down my face as quickly as the rain from the shower head. “I’m a lost cause! I’m broken! You should find somebody else to save, Aiden, because there is no saving me. The damage is already done.”
My instinct is to flee, but try as I might, Aiden won’t let me pass.
His nostrils flare, his jaw tics, and he looks about ready to combust.
I try to move again, but he catches me, spinning me until my back hits the cold tile wall. His grip on my arms tightens, but his voice remains surprisingly calm. “I’m not running, Katie. I’m not even fucking flinching. Do not run from me,” he begs. “Firstly,” he swipes the tears spilling from my eyes. “I cannot change what happened, and neither can you. But if you can give me the names of those bastards, I promise you they’ll never see another fucking sunrise.”
“I—”
“I cannot take away your pain, bug, and it kills me. But I can promise you that no one will ever hurt you again as long as I’m around.”
“Why do you want me?” I demand, my voice trembling. “I’m a mess! I’m covered in tears, and,” I swipe at my nose and see a glistening trail of mucus running down my hand. “And snot!” I tip my head back and bang it off the wall. “Ow,” I mutter, rubbing the burning spot at the back of my skull. “Did I not tell the story right? Why are you still here? You should be tearing arse down the street.”
He smiles, and the bastard actually grins at me as if I’m anadorable little puppy who just sneezed and made a funny face.
“Normal is overrated.”
I make a rude noise with my tongue and accidentally spit in his face.
He wipes the spit from his face with a chuckle.
I think he says something, but I can’t be too sure. I’m busy burying my face in my hands and praying that the shower tray grows a mouth and swallows me whole.
“Bug?” I feel his hands on me, but I’m too mortified to peek out from beneath my fingers and see what he’s doing.
I hear the click of my shower mousse being squeezed out, and then his hands are on my body again, massaging the foam into my skin with gentle strokes. As the embarrassment slowly fades, I tentatively lower my hands and meet his reassuring gaze. “I’m not a hot mess; I’m more like a dumpster fire.”
“Hey,” he grabs my jaw, leaving a slick trail of shower mousse on my cheek, “don’t talk about my girl like that.” His lips fuse with mine in a slow, gentle kiss.
I glance down, taking in Aiden in all his glory. “You weren’t kidding when you said you weren’t a shower.” My eyes flit up, meeting his gaze. “I think he’s afraid of me. You’ll never pop a boner again.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he smirks, watching me spray the mousse into my hands and work it into his chest. As my hands trail down, I notice some movement down south.
“Oh!”Fucking hell, that thing just about tripled in size.
“Looks like someone’s not so afraid after all.” His hand slides around the back of my head, and he pulls my lips to his.
We finish up, and he turns the water off before wrapping me in a large, fluffy towel.
“Up,” he commands, lifting me effortlessly into his arms as if I’m feather light. He carries me to the bedroom, gently placing me on the bed before turning for my wardrobe.
“Why are you looking for pyjamas?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “We just got up.”
