“Like you scared I’ll leave you.”
My eyes dropped immediately.
That answer must’ve been enough for him because his expression softened almost instantly.
“I’m here,” he said firmly.
Then he guided me backward until my back hit the wall.
“I ain’t going nowhere without you, Ko.”
Steam continued to climb around us as water beat against my skin. He didn’t move, just watched me, and I hated how much I needed that silence. Hated how much I needed his stillness to anchor me.
I tried to speak, but my throat was tight. Tears burned my eyes as I stared up at him, my chest aching with too many emotions I couldn't name.
“You good,” he promised.
Then he leaned in.
His lips brushed against mine so softly it almost broke me completely. That gentleness was a stark contrast to the violence that still felt fresh beneath my skin. He didn’t rush or deepen the kiss, just kept touching me with a patience I hadn’t expected.
The water ran hot against our bodies, but I barely registered it. My mind kept playing those moments over—G5 screaming, the knife in my hand, the strange calm that settled in my chest as he begged for his life.
Booda’s thumb brushed gently across my cheekbone. “Focus on me,” he demanded, and I realized my hands had started shaking again.
“I am.”
But I wasn't. Not really.
I tilted my head back against the tile, and water streamed down my face, mixing with tears I hadn’t realized were falling again.
“Ko.” Booda’s voice pulled me back.
I blinked and refocused on him. The steam swirling around him, the water slick across his shoulders, the way his eyes stayed locked on mine like nothing else in the world mattered more than me in that moment.
Then he kissed me again, deeper this time.
One of his hands slid down my back and gripped my waist firmly, holding me in place while the other tangled into my wet hair. The control was there, but it wasn't suffocating. It was grounding.
I whimpered against his lips as my stomach twisted with guilt and pleasure at the same time. My hands braced against the wall behind me as he shifted closer, pressing his body flush against mine.
Every point of contact was an anchor.
“Booda…”
“Yeah,” he answered against my mouth, not pulling away.
“You can’t fix this.”
“Shhh, I got you,” Booda growled, his voice rough, like gravel soaked in whiskey.
His hands were everywhere at once, possessive and demanding as the shower pounded relentlessly, steam curling around us like a fucking veil. But all I could feel was his body pressed hard against mine, water sluicing down the ridges of his chest, the thick cords of muscle in his arms. His dick, already hard, brushed against my thigh, and my breath caught in my throat.
He kissed me again, his tongue sliding against mine, claiming me and marking me as his. His fingers tightened in my hair, pulling just enough to make me whimper as his other hand slid down my back before palming my ass and squeezing hard. I gasped into his mouth, my body arching instinctively, every nerve on fire.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered against my lips, his words another caress.
His thumb brushed across my cheekbone, wiping away the tears and water mixed there. But even as he gentled that touch, his other hand slipped lower, fingers tracing the sensitive skin at the curve of my hip before sliding between my legs. I gasped, my knees buckling as he found my clit. It was swollen and desperate for him.
