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Scrubbing a hand over my face, I sighed and climbed out of the bed. I padded after him quietly and leaned against the bathroom doorframe, watching him.
He stood at the sink, staring in the mirror while the shower ran. I doubted he even saw himself, or me, in the reflection. He had that haunted look again, the one I couldn’t erase no matter what I did or how hard I did it.
For the most part, our time in Puerto Rico had been relaxing. Yet it seemed like every night,thishappened. He tried to brush it all off and tell me he’d always been like this, but not once in the two weeks we were in Venice did this happen. When I reminded him of that, he ceased talking altogether, retreating even further inside himself.
Wordlessly, I moved forward, taking him by the wrist and pulling him into the shower. The water was on as hot as it would go, another indication it was more than “nothing.” If it was a regular shower, he wouldn’t feel the need to burn off the top layer of his skin, like it was possible to scrub away the memories if he tried hard enough.
Turning the temperature down, I adjusted all of the shower heads so they were directed at him. If he noticed the water wasn’t scalding, he didn’t say anything as he slumped against the wall. Tipping his head back, he closed his eyes, letting the water spray over him like an Italian statue in a rainstorm. Michelangelo would have cried to have him as a model. With hard, straight lines and smooth skin, he looked like he was carved from alabaster. The scars all over his arms were his only “flaw,” but even they were perfect in my eyes simply because they were his.
I squirted an oily body wash onto my hands and slid them over the back of his neck. Moving downward over his body, half-cleansing and half-massaging as I went, I took my time kneading his tense muscles and working out any knots as the scent of neroli filled the steamy shower.
“Easton? Or Parkview?” I asked quietly.
“Parkview.” He exhaled the word and ran his hand over his face, dashing water out of his eyes.
Every time he mentioned that fucking psych ward, it was like a little bit of him disappeared. It wasn’t just the mind games he played withallof his doctors, or any guilt he might be harboring over the whole thing with one blonde in particular. It was the abusive staff, the grueling psych tests, and the memories that were unleashed as a result. Like Pandora’s box, now that they were out, they refused to go back in.
“Will you ever tell me what happened?” I asked, hoping he didn’t hear the growl in my voice. I hated that he refused to talk about it, that I was helpless todoanything while he was in turmoil. If there was one thing I was looking forward to about eventually returning to the mainland, it would be hunting down every single person from that fucking place and ending them once and for all. It might not undo the damage they did, but it was a start. More importantly, it gave me a mission instead of sitting on the sidelines while the love of my life fought a war inside his head every single night.
He swallowed thickly before answering. “No.”
“I’ve read the complaints, you know. In the lawsuit.” It was one thing to read about it — I wanted to hear it from him. I needed details the court papers couldn’t provide, so I’d know how painful their punishment had to be.
Ignoring me like usual, he closed his eyes again and ducked his head under one of the shower heads. If he thought his silence equaled another “No,” he clearly forgot he wasn’t the only ruthless one in the relationship. I was tired of being ignored, just like I was tired of seeing him suffer in silence.
Sliding my hands around his narrow waist and down to his ass, I grabbed him and yanked him against my chest. Ignoring his glare, I kissed the pulse in his neck, up to his jaw.
I made it to his cheek when he angled his face toward me. His green eyes flashed, a warning to drop the subject. “We won. There’s no reason to revisit it.”
“Except they continue to torment you. And that’s my job.” My hand slipped between us, wrapping around his dick. Sliding up and down easily with whatever body wash was left in my palm, I arched a brow at him, daring him to stop me.
A soft moan escaped his lips and his eyes drifted shut. Biting his lip, he looked like he was torn between arguing and letting me continue. Regardless of whatever direction his head was going, his cock was thickening by the second, swaying things in my favor.
Stroking him harder, I grazed the side of his neck with my teeth before sucking at the red mark. “Consider this payback for the alley.”
“I didn’t hear you complain.” He drew in a surprised gasp when the fingers of my other hand slid along the curve of his ass and slipped down the crease, teasing his hole. That was one avenue we hadn’t crossed yet and one I certainly wasn’t going to force, but it didn’t stop me from pushing the boundaries of his newfound sexuality. Just a little bit.
“How could I? You had your tongue in my mouth the entire time.” To emphasize my point, I licked the seam of his lips. As soon as they parted, my tongue found his and tangled together, tasting every part of him.
When his hand encircled my cock, I broke our kiss sharply and shook my head. “No.”
He frowned, his brows drawn. I know it wasn’t a word he was used to hearing, especially from me, but I had other ideas in mind.
Swatting his hand away, I placed my palm in the center of his chest and walked him backward to the tiled bench. “Sit.”
Swallowing his reply, he obeyed nonetheless, watching my every move. It was always interesting to see who’d take the lead in any given tryst. Just because you started out in control didn’t mean that’s how it ended — a fact he’d learned over the course of our sexcapades.
Kneeling between his legs, I gave him a devilish smirk before I continued to extract sexual retribution. It’s not that we kept score, per se, but I hated the idea he’d one-upped me. And in public, no less. That wasmymove, not his.
Pressing my tongue flat against the underside of his shaft, I licked him from base to tip, pulling a rewarding groan out of him. But that’s not what I wanted.
Swirling his head once as a distraction, I promptly swallowed the entire length and sucked. Hard.
“Oh, fuck!”
There it was. His body tense, his hand in my hair, and that mouth. I don’t know why his swearing turned me on so much, but it did. I didn’t consider it a job well done unless I got a certain number of verbal outbursts. When applicable, that is. In the restaurant last week, under the table, I accepted dropped silverware, stifled swearing, and nearly upending said table as proof I was on the right track.Goddamn it, Bennetthad never sounded so sexy.
Using my hands and mouth, I brought him to the brink, again and again, until he growled and seized my throat in one hand. The movement forced me to pop off his dick, even though I was nowhere near done with him.
