Page 34 of Claimed By River

“Shh.” He reaches for the shower gel, pours it into his palm. “Let me take care of you.”

He washes me with reverent thoroughness, soaping my shoulders, my arms, my stomach. When his hands find my breasts again, he doesn’t tease, doesn’t push, just cups them and rubs slow circles with his soapy thumbs until I’m boneless against the tile.

“Again?” he asks, a low rumble rumbling through his voice.

“Yes.” I put my hands on his face, wet beard and all, and make him look at me. “But slow.”

Something moves behind his eyes. He lifts me without a word, and I wrap my legs around him as he slides back in. This time, there’s no wall, no counter, nothing between us but water. He holds me up with his arms and doesn’t let go. We move together, unhurried, my forehead against his, his breath mingling with mine. It’s nothing like the other times. Nothing like the desk or the couch or the bed.

Nobody is taking anything. Nobody is being taken.

“Nadia.” That’s all he says. Just my name, over and over, into my mouth and along my jaw and the wet skin of my neck. I’ve never heard anything sound so much like a vow.

When I come this time, it isn’t fire or lightning or any of the things it’s been before. It rolls through me, slow and enormous. I’m crying before I understand that I’m crying, and he feels it and doesn’t stop and doesn’t ask. He just holds me tighter and follows me over.

For a long moment, we just breathe, the warm water washing over us, his arms tight around me. I feel safe. I feel cherished. I feel his.

“I love you,” I whisper against his wet hair.

He lifts his head, beard wet, hazel eyes soft and sated. “I love you too, wife. Forever.”

I smile, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Forever.”

Epilogue

River

Six Months Later

The Aegean Sea stretches endlessly beyond our private balcony, the water shimmering beneath the late afternoon sun until it blends seamlessly into the sky. Santorini is every bit as breathtaking as everyone promised. Whitewashed buildings cascade down the cliffs, blue domes scattered across them, and salt on a warm breeze. And none of it can hold my attention for more than a few seconds because of the woman sitting a few feet away from me.

This is the last stop on our month-long honeymoon around the Mediterranean. Neither of us wanted to rush it. After everything we survived, we wanted time where the biggest decision of the day was which restaurant overlooking the water we felt like walking to.

We’d talked briefly about having another wedding when we got home. Something more traditional than the rushed ceremony Royal performed inside the tattoo shop. But somewhere between Italy and Croatia, we both realized the people who mattered had already been there. Raiden and Elodie, Roman, and Royal. Our closest friends had witnessed us promise our lives to each other, even if neither of us fully understood what those promises meant at the time.

I wouldn’t change that day now. Not for anything. The only people still missing are my family. My parents and three siblings. They’re flying in this afternoon to spend the final week of our trip with us, and if there’s one thing capable of making my fearless wife nervous, it’s meeting the people who raised me.

She insists she isn’t worried. She’s a terrible liar.

I glance through the open balcony doors where Nadia sits curled into one of the lounge chairs with a paperback balanced on her knees. She’s wearing a flowing sundress that dances in the breeze, sunglasses perched on top of her head after she’d finally given up trying to keep them on.

Every few minutes, she absently twists the simple gold wedding band. Watching her has become my favorite hobby. She senses my stare without looking up.

“You’re doing it again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She turns a page in her book. “You’re staring.”

“I observe.”

“You’ve been using that one for months.” She still doesn’t look up, but her mouth is fighting not to smile.

“It still works.”

She finally lowers the book and looks over at me, sunlight catching the warmth in her eyes. I don’t know how I ever convinced myself there would be a version of my life that didn’t have her in it.

“What?” she asks.