Alex

Five years. She’s been carrying this burden on her heart for five years. I can hear the pain in her voice, see the remorse in her eyes. This woman, this remarkable, beautiful woman, is so incredibly shattered on the inside. I’m overcome by the all-consuming need to open her heart and pick up all those tiny pieces and put them back together, one-by-one.

And this man, this man she trusted, the man she loved, has been killing her softly with sharp words and double-edged anger. Something tells me he won’t stop until she’s completely gone.

The grief in her eyes and the way she said, “had,” when she spoke about her dog tells me all I need to know about this guy, Bastain. I make a vow to her and to myself at that very moment he will never hurt her again. Even after everything he’s done, she still blames herself. That thought alone makes my blood boil.

“Emma, sweetheart, you didn’t create that monster. He was always there, hiding, waiting, watching for the right moment to appear.” I expect an argument, but she doesn’t reply. Her eyes search mine for an explanation, answers, hope. She’s built a wall, tall and wide, and damn near impossible for any one person to tear down. But that doesn’t mean I can’t climb over it and meet her on the other side. Then we can tear it down together. “You can’t save everyone. Some people have to save themselves. People are who they are, love. Nothing we do, good or bad, will change that. You didn’t decide how he would react to grief, to pain. He did. You didn’t harden his heart. He did that on his own. Things happen to us sometimes. Shitty things. Unspeakable things. And the way we deal with them defines who we are.” Trust me on this.

I want to kill this bastard for making her feel this way. The tears have dried from her eyes, but she’s still not speaking. I know she’s listening. I can only pray it’s sinking in. She scoots to the edge of the sofa, her leg against my leg, placing her hand on my thigh. Fuck, I can’t concentrate when she’s touching me like this. “Like you,” I continue, trying to corral my thoughts. “You’ve been through so much. You’ve lived with all this pain and guilt, and yet your main priority was always him, helping him heal. Your excuses for him prove that after all he’s done now, you’d still try to help him. You could have given up so many times. You could have just laid down and died. Hell, Emma, you could give up now. But you haven’t. You can’t. It’s not in you. You’re here. You’re fighting. And you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.” She opens her mouth to speak, but I stop her. “I let you have your time. Now I need you to let me have mine. Let me take care of you. Let me wash it all away.”

She nods in agreement, “Okay,” she whispers. Without saying another word, I lift her up and carry her to my bedroom.

***

Emma rests on my bed, where I sat her, while I run a tub full of hot water and bubbles. As much as I want to lie her down and bury myself inside her, I need to take this slow. Now isn’t the time to hide behind physical desires. This is about building trust, making her feel safe. I need her to know she’s spent enough time carrying the weight alone. I need to show her there’s someone here willing to take her load.

“Ready?”

She rolls her neck on her shoulders and groans. This is going to take a lot of self control. “So ready,” she almost sings.

Keep your shit together, Alex. Remember why you’re doing this.

She looks over her shoulder at me, waiting for me to exit the room before she begins undressing herself. “I’m not going anywhere, love.”

With wide eyes, her lips part in recognition. “You’re watching me?”

I hide my chuckle behind a smirk. “I’m joining you.”

“Oh,” she says, simply. The flush rushes back to her cheeks, drawing a smile from my lips.

I walk over to her, composed and unhurried, stopping inches from her body. “It’s just a bath, Emma. Nothing more.”

Me. You. Our naked bodies covered in warm water, caressed by soft bubbles.

She grabs the hem of her tank, reluctantly conceding, and starts to pull it over her head. I grab her hands to halt her movements. “Let me.” She draws her bottom lip inside her mouth in that sexy way I’ve grown to love, letting me know I have her permission. I lift the shirt up over her head and toss it to the floor. She shifts positions, crossing and uncrossing her arms over her chest. I need to even the playing field to make her more comfortable. I take her hands and place them at the bottom of my polo, prompting her to take her turn. Her chest heaves with nervous anticipation.

I’m right there with you, angel. I haven’t been with a woman since Heidi, and even then the atmosphere wasn’t as emotionally charged as this. She pulls the shirt off, throwing it on the tile next to hers. The air is swarming with electricity as we stand less than a foot apart, taking turns undressing one another. Her tongue snakes out to wet her lips and I have to remind myself this is just about connection, not to rush it. I need her to trust me. That doesn’t keep my dick from reacting to the round peaks of her breasts popping out of the top of her sports bra.

Her delicate hands reach forward and work the button of my jeans, then the zipper. She peers up at me, silently asking for permission before she slides them off my hips. “Whenever you’re ready,” I reply to her unspoken request. As soon as the denim hits the ground, I shuffle out of them and kick them to the side. Emma’s eyes fall to my erection and she swallows hard, running her tongue over her top lip. I want to know what it feels like to have that tongue on the tip of my cock. I want to watch her take me in her mouth while I wrap my hands in her long blonde hair. One step at a time. I trace the tip of my finger along the inside of her waistband, inciting a soft moan from her lips. I grin as I hook a thumb in each side, giving her leggings a tug then pulling them down her body. I drop to my knees as I draw them over her feet and add them to the pile.

She’s wet. I can smell it. I want to taste it.

I peel the lacy thong from her body, lifting the fabric to my face, breathing in her scent before I put them with the rest of our clothes. Her near naked body teases me, her pussy swollen and dripping with need. I can see the evidence glistening against her soft, pink flesh.

“Oh my God,” she mutters underneath her breath.

Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet, sweetheart.

I stand to my feet, greeting her with a sly smile. “Almost done,” I say, as she follows my eyes to my boxer briefs. No time to be shy, love. The water’s getting cold. Her fingers grab the elastic band, lifting it over my cock then sliding the briefs down my legs. She exhales a long breath at the sight of me bare. She has no idea all the filthy things I want to do to her right now. There will be plenty of time for every single one of those things later. Right now, I just need to be close to her, body to body, skin to skin.

I slip the sports bra over her head then take her hand and guide her into the tub, climbing in behind her. She leans her back against my chest and I wrap my arms around her waist. She didn’t go into detail about what happened to finally make her leave. I can only imagine what she’s been through, what she’s seen. But she doesn’t have to run anymore. “You’re safe now, babygirl,” I assure her.

Her chest heaves as she takes in a deep breath then lets it back out. I feel her body relax in my arms. “I don’t know if I’ve ever said this, but… thank you.”

If she only knew. I should be the one thanking her. Her smile brought life back into my world. Her strength has given me a newfound hope and determination. I want to help people more now than I ever have before. Her sweet voice and intoxicating eyes had me yearning for the next time I’d see her again. And her touch puts all my broken pieces back together.

Emma

My body has never been so alive, so aware of another person’s presence, as it is when I’m with Alex. He is beautiful. His body is a masterpiece, every last inch of him. He has this way of making me need him without even trying. I sink back into his arms, letting the hot water and bubbles wrap us in their warmth as I trace the lines of his tattoos.

“Did it hurt?”

He lifts his head from the back of the tub, bringing his eyes to where my fingertips graze. “What? The tats?”

“Yes. You have so many.” I sound ridiculous. Like I’ve never seen a tattoo. The truth is after seeing him that first day at the cafe, and knowing where he lives and what he does for a living, I’m surprised. I’m learning there are so many layers to this man, and every time I peel one back, he draws me further in.

Alex laughs under his breath. “At first. And some areas more than others. But… that was kind of the point.”

“You wanted it to hurt?” Why would anyone want that? Oh, God. He’s a masochist.

He moves my hair away from his face so he can explain. “I wanted it to hurt somewhere else.”

“I’m not following…”

“I moved here from New Orleans almost two years ago. The woman you saw in the coffee shop… She broke me in ways I can’t explain.”

He loved her. And even though I saw with my own eyes that she’s moved on, a twinge of jealousy nips at my heart knowing he still talks to her. He still sees her. Does he still love her?

“Oh,” I say, simply, because I can’t bring myself to express the way his confession makes me feel. I mindlessly trace the lines of a clown face with tears, not realizing the irony of the moment.

“I didn’t think I could handle the pain. Even after I moved away from her. So, I looked for something to redirect the hurt. I figured maybe the physical pain would dilute the emotional, drown it out.”

“Did it work?” Do you still love her?

“No.”

Oh.

“But I got addicted to it. After the first two, I wanted more. And more. Pretty soon both arms were covered.”

Do you still love her?

“And the pain? You seemed happy when you saw her…”

“The pain didn’t go away. Until I met you.”

I feel like a hypocrite, lying here jealous of a woman he loved two years ago when just last night I was in another man’s bed. The difference is, I don’t love Bastain. I haven’t for a long time. I felt obligated to him. I owed him my happiness because I stole his. An eye for an eye…

Alex loved this woman. To the point she left him broken. “Why me?” I need to know. I need to know I’m not feeling this, whatever this is, alone.

He runs his fingertips up my arms to the top of my shoulders before gliding them back down to my wrists. “Because from the minute I first saw you… In your red t-shirt and black leggings with that ass- Yes, I noticed the ass. I’m a guy. What do you expect?” I roll my eyes, but he doesn’t see. He drops a playful kiss on the top of my head. “There was something about your smile. The way you looked around a crowded coffee shop and said ‘Fuck you, world. I’m gonna enjoy my latte with or without your stinkin table’ and you did. You made me laugh. You made me think. You made me miss you. I haven’t had that in a long time, Emma.”

“You made me miss you too.” I admit, the confession setting me free.

***

He was so careful and attentive when he washed my body, taking his time around the sensitive parts, but never overstepping any boundaries he’d obviously set for himself. I took my turn lathering the loofah with body wash, rubbing the suds across his skin, then rinsing them off. Since we were being open and honest, I told him how I left without notice after what happened with Gatsby. I told him about calling Kylee and learning Bastain had already gone looking for me there. The more I talk to him, the easier it gets. Although, I suppose, it’s always been easy with him.

He encouraged me to call and check on Kylee as soon as we got out of the bath. I’ve kept my phone out of sight for the most part, due to an influx of calls from numbers I don’t recognize. I blocked Bastain’s cell and the dealership, so I can only assume he’s finding other ways to call.

“Hey, it’s me,” I announce when Kylee answers after the third ring.

“Oh thank God, Em. I’ve been worried sick,” she exclaims.

I’m suddenly saddened by the fact that I never warned her. I never meant for anyone else to be involved. I was trying to protect her from this part of my world and now here she is, right in the middle of it. I never thought it would come this far.

“Are you okay?” I ask, worried.

“I’m fine. That prick isn’t coming anywhere near me without leaving with a bullet in his ass.” I can’t help but chuckle at her threats. She is a spitfire in stilettos, and I love her for it. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” I answer, feeling bad that I can’t give her the details I know she’s expecting. “I’m not going back to him. I don’t know what the plan is at the moment, but I know he’s not part of it.”

She heaves a sigh of relief. “It’s about time. I’ve been praying you’d leave that asshole for the past two years.”

What? Why? “Kylee, why didn’t you say something?” To the outside world, Bastain and I looked like the perfect couple. I made sure I was careful about the things I said, and he never degraded me publicly. He kept his humiliation carefully veiled so that only I could recognize it.

“I know you, Em. I could see you weren’t happy. I just had no idea why or that it was this bad.”

“It wasn’t… Not always. Something happened. Something changed. But, I can’t go back. I just can’t.”

“And I’d kick your cute little ass if you did. Don’t worry about me. I can handle the prick. Where are you?”

Oh no. I can’t tell her. I haven’t as much as mentioned Alex in our conversations. She’d think I was batshit crazy. “I got a hotel room.” It’s not a lie.

“Okay, good. I’m here if you need me. But don’t worry. You just promise me you’ll be careful. And call or text me every day.”

“You got it, babe. Love you.”

“Love you.”

I feel so much better knowing Kylee is safe and sound. I still have no idea how Bastain found me at the hotel. I booked the room on a credit card he doesn’t know I have. Didn’t I? I go through my emails on my phone, double checking my reservation. I verify the last four numbers of the card on the email with those on my new Visa. No. Shit. No. I close my eyes and hang my head.

I must have been so shaken up from everything that happened that I used our debit card instead. They’re both blue, so it would have been an easy mistake. But, it’s a mistake I can’t afford to make again.

Alex is busy putting my clothes in the washer. He wanted to give me some privacy when I called Kylee. I find him walking out of the laundry room, shirtless and sexy in a pair of dark gray lounge pants that hang low on his waist.

“Hey there hot stuff,” I flirt, provoking my favorite dimpled grin. “You got any scissors?”

His smile fades as he narrows his eyes. “Sure?” he says, curious.

I hold up the debit card, explaining my question. “I don’t want to make the mistake of using this again.”

Recognition shadows his features as he figures out I’ve realized how Bastain found me at the hotel. He digs through the top of four drawers in one of his kitchen cabinets then hands me what I’m looking for. I snip the card into tiny pieces and toss it in the trash.

He takes the scissors from my hands and moves towards me, pinching the bottom hem of the white t-shirt he let me borrow between his fingers. “I think I like this better on you.”

Every cell in my body vibrates with sensual excitement. He knows I’m not wearing any panties. He just put mine in the wash. It’s just the cotton fabric against my skin, brushing my hardened nipples, keeping my senses on high alert. I know he’s trying to be a gentleman, but I’ve seen glimpses of what lies underneath. And my body is screaming for him to set that part of himself free.

“I think you’d like it better off of me,” I tease.

“I think we should test your theory.” His hands slide underneath the shirt to my bare behind. His touch does things to me I can’t explain. I just know I want more, so much more. Then, as if he’s realized something he’d forgotten, he moves his hands and steps away. “Later. You need to eat.”

I’m naked under here and begging for his touch and he’s worried about dinner? He chuckles at the disappointment sweeping across my face. I think I might actually even be pouting. “Dinner it is, then,” I agree, accepting my defeat.

Alex spent the rest of the night making sure I was fed, and comfortable, and safe. So much so that he is sleeping on the sofa while I lay here in his bed, staring at the ceiling, restless and thinking of him. I never imagined when I showed up at his gym earlier today that I’d be lying in his bed tonight. I just wanted somewhere to go, someone to talk to. I should have known he’d be so much more than that. I felt it the day we met.

I can’t do this. I can’t lay here like a stranger. I can’t pretend the kiss didn’t happen. I can’t forget the way my body reacted to being next to his in the bathtub. To hell with morals and standards. This is his home. He should be in his own bed, next to me. Right where I need him to be. I climb out of bed and pad down the hall into the living room. He’s awake, too. Maybe he’s needing me like I’m needing him.

He sits up, and the blanket falls down around his waist. “What’s happened? Are you okay?” he asks, his voice frantic with concern.

I pull the chocolate brown cover off his body, revealing a very toned Alex wearing nothing but boxer briefs. “Come sleep with me,” I request, “Please?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, love.” His tone is commanding, but his eyes say something else.

“I know why you’re doing this, Alex. And I admire you for it. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more cherished and protected than I do right now. But… I’m not as fragile as you think I am. I don’t want you to be careful anymore.”