Chapter Eight
It had been a particularly hard op.
Titanium was aware of just how hard and he demanded that Katarina and Marcus both take some R&R. Nothing fancy, and nothing too exotic, just a few days on Padre Island. Sun, sand, water and some beers.
Katarina was spread out on a towel, with giant sunglasses and a monstrosity of a floppy sun hat. She was content to watch the waves lap up on the shore and stare out into the distance.
At first, she’d thought maybe her contentment was because at one time she wondered if she could hear the waves crash in that big, empty place inside of her, like a seashell. Hollow and brittle.
But she kept watching, kept breathing in time with the tide. There was something magical about that, with the water lapping at her toes.
A pretty woman with a bright yellow sundress and a toddler chose a place next to her. The little girl in a pink bonnet and bare feet giggled when the water touched her skin. They built a small sandcastle together—a sand pile, really. But it was a castle to them.
It was the best castle, as far as Katarina could see.
Watching them, realization kicked her in the face with a steel-toed boot. She wanted this life for herself. She wanted everything.
She didn’t want to be afraid, didn’t want to be broken, but she was unsure how to do anything else.
Katarina thought about Marcus, about letting herself feel something more than rage and pain.
Her back tightened and began to spasm, but she fought through it, breathing in and out. In and out. She breathed in the good memories of their time together and exhaled the bad. Exhaled the fear.
If she let herself look too closely, she knew she wasn’t half in love with Marcus. Not by a long shot. It was one hundred percent, all in. She was terrified of it, but it couldn’t be any worse than the pain.
She got up and walked through the sand, and crossed the street to the beach house.
Before she could lose her nerve, she went to Marcus’s bedroom.
Katarina had offered herself to him before, but she’d been almost like a sacrificial lamb. There was nothing sacrificial about her now.
She raised her hand to knock, and the movement was almost like slow motion—moving through water. She watched from some far off place as her knuckles descended to rap on the door. Katarina shook her head.
No.
This was not how she wanted things to be. She didn’t want to see things from afar, she didn’t want to hide.
She didn’t want to be a machine.
“Door’s open.”
Marcus was splayed out on his bed in nothing but a towel, watching Doctor Who. When he saw her, he said, “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” She sat down on the bed. “More than okay.”
He turned off the Netflix. “Tell me.”
“So, remember how I said that white knights were douchebags in tinfoil?”
Marcus gave her a soft smile. “I seem to remember that.”
“I decided that was wrong, too. I’m going to be my own white knight. Because see, there’s this version of happily ever after, and I think it’s mine. I think I can have it.”
Marcus looked like she’d punched him. “You can have it. You can have anything you want in life, Katarina.”
“Can I? Because I’m pretty sure it involves you.”
His face broke her heart. “Katarina…”
“No, I’ve thought about this a lot. Since we’ve been here. I know it won’t be easy. I’ve got a lot of fucking baggage. I’m like the unclaimed luggage department at Kennedy. I know that. But I love you, Marcus. A whole love. A true love. You’re my friend, my best friend, but you’re everything else too. My family. My world. Everything.”
He reached out to cup her cheek. “I want you to take some time and—”
“No, fuck that. Enough time has been wasted. Given to things that I can’t control. This, I can choose.” She looked down at her hands, suddenly shy. “If you want me.”
“Don’t be a dumbass. Of course I want you. I want you more than I should. I want you so much I have to make sure I’m not saying yes, thinking only of myself and what I need. What I want. We’ve been through trauma and—”
“We’ve been through a lot of trauma, Marcus. Kiss me. Kiss me for real. Kiss me because you choose to kiss me.”
He pulled her toward him gently.
She felt no fear, no pain, only anticipation.
His lips brushed against hers and it wasn’t a hot rush of passion, although she expected that would come in a few moments. This, right here, it was coming home.
Emotion seized in her chest, and she trembled. “And,” she said breathlessly, “Make love to me.”
“Oh God, are you sure?”
“If you are.”
“I’m afraid too, Katarina. This is all I’ve ever wanted, but it’s not worth losing you.”
“You’re not losing me, you’re getting me forever.” She smiled against his mouth. “And ever. Even when you’re tired of me. Even when—”
He kissed her again, cutting her off.
That warm feeling of coming home quickly exploded into something else. That same something she didn’t know how much she missed. It wasn’t just desire, it was anticipation of fulfillment.
“I’m not going to break. Touch me.” She kept her eyes open while they kissed, she wanted to see his face. To remember that it was him.
More importantly, she wanted to be present in the moment. No more shutting it off, no more hiding, no more automaton.
His eyes fluttered open to meet her stare. It should’ve been oddly intense, but there was nothing odd about it. It was only the melding of two souls, as corny as she’d say that sounded.
“You’re so beautiful.” He kissed her lips. “So soft.”
She touched him too, let her hands roam his body. She knew the topography of his flesh, but touching him now was somehow different. It was more, it was less. It was everything, it was nothing.
He kissed her neck, and the memories of other men who’d done the same were ashes in the wind. His mouth was hot, wanting, and only brought pleasure. He moved down to her breasts and every time she wondered and wished what it would be like to be smaller-breasted, or not to have them at all, dissipated. He filled his hands with her, cooing praises, and she could feel his erection against her thigh.
He moved down further, his lips blazing a trail down to the softness of her belly and still lower to the dip between her thighs.
He began with a kiss. It seemed so innocent, the touching of lips to flesh. Only it ignited a fire that threatened to consume her from the inside out.
“Please, Marcus.” She wanted him inside of her, wanted to look up and see him above her, dig her fingers into his arms while he took them both to a higher pleasure.
“I’m not done,” his breath ghosted over her swollen clit.
“I need this first.”
He rose up above her. “I want you to know, you don’t get to be bossy all the time like this.”
She smiled. “Just this time.”
“Who am I kidding? I’ll give you anything you want.” He kissed her lips again. “Anything you need.”
She wrapped her legs around his waist and he entered her slowly, carefully.
Just like that, all the darkness was gone. Wellington, Fedir, every man who’d ever touched her, who made her feel dirty, who made her feel used, it was all gone. Washed away not by some magic dick, or by someone else who loved her, but because she chose to reach for her salvation, grab it with both hands, and heal her own wounds.