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“Too much, love?” I breathe with a grin into her ear.
“I can take it,” she whispers.
A soft kiss to her temple—so at odds with the roaring energy in my body. “I know you can. You always take it so good for me.”
Another wild noise bursts from her lips as my hands dip to her hips, positioning her back against the wall so I can fuck with more power, more intensity.
Her hips move, swiveling, before rocking back and forth—enough that I pause fully seated inside her, allowing her to take from me what she so desperately wants. She grinds against me like I know she loves, the same way she always comes hard across my thigh muscles. Only now I can feel her as the spasms start—the inside of her gripping me.
The tightness of her is like a punch to the gut. She’s so beautiful when she’s put together. But here, beneath the water, droplets tracing paths across her skin, brown eyes with pupils blown wide framed by damp sticking lashes—she’s otherworldly. Her skin is flushed all the way to her goddamn toes, fingers tight against the soft muscles of my arms, waist suspended in my hands, lips bitten as she comes long and hard just for me.
A goddess. A siren.
The fucking ocean herself personified and somehow in my hands.
“Let me come inside you,” I breathe, because I need it. “Tell me I can. Tell me it’s safe.” Another near growl as I thrust into her harder. “If you don’t want me to come inside you, P, you need to say it now.”
“I want it,” she begs. “Please—please—”
My vision nearly blacks out, eyes rolling back as I come. My thrusts grow slower, until I refuse to leave her entirely, pulling her to my body tighter, needing every piece of her skin to touch mine—like that will satisfy my need to keep her close.
And then—
My stomach drops. Guilt rages as I place a flushed Paloma back on her feet.
“I’m . . . did I . . . ?”
The words won’t come. But I don’t need them anyway.
“Everything is perfect,” she says, hands cupping my face to angle it down toward hers. “That was fucking incredible.”
She steps forward and something leaks from between her legs, making my cock pulse. I want to ask her to open her legs for me to see between them—to see the evidence of how deeply and thoroughly I’ve claimed her as mine.
My cheeks flush with embarrassment at my own thoughts. I shake my head as I lean down to kiss her everywhere.
“I love you,” I whisper. “You’re so perfect for me.”
My praise continues as I wash her body, though she doesn’t let me wash her hair again—“That many times will ruin it”—but I bask in the care of her just the same.
Later that night, we order food at my insistence, though I can see both Paloma and my father give me a look like I’ve grown three heads when I ask. I shrug it off and indulge in the Thai food Paloma chose, paying special attention when she says which dish is her favorite so I can learn to cook it for her.
We take it easy, watching movies in the family room. Alessia stays until it’s late, and I hear my dad offer for her to stay another night, but she hugs Paloma and leaves after reassurance from my girlfriend.
I excuse myself to call Rhys and check on him and Sadie, though they seem more concerned about Paloma.
He lets the entire thing go when I say, “It’s complicated.” Maybe he understands because of his own situation with Sadie and her family that this story can’t be mine to share. It will always be Paloma’s.
“Your mother called again,” my dad tells me in passing. “I know she’s tried calling you, too. How do you want me to handle it?”
“Does she know?”
He shakes his head.
“Maybe you could tell her. I think she should know. And I . . .” My voice trails off. I don’t think I can tell her everything without raging over Ethan again. I’ve avoided the monster in my mind that wants to hunt him down and kill him for what he’s done. I have to trust my dad.
He nods and squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll take care of it. Everything will be okay.”
I repeat it like a mantra—as if it will make the swirling anxious thoughts that haven’t quieted go away.
