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“Get undressed for me.”

He follows the command easily before allowing me to direct him into the shower. I leave the door open as I undress, too, pulling my hair loose from the braid before stepping under the warm spray.

Bennett doesn’t speak as I lather up soap and wash his body slowly. He doesn’t speak as I pull at his neck, ducking his head so I can scrub my hands through his hair, washing his scalp, gentle and careful. His breath puffs more labored into my neck as I move my fingertips to the base of his scalp, massaging slightly.

A noise sounds low in his throat and he stumbles, catching himself with one hand on the tile wall behind me, the other wrapped tightly on the curve of my waist.

I gasp, feeling my skin heat under his attention.

“P?” he breathes, his voice a whisper cry.

“I’m here,” I whisper back, curling my hands around his shoulder and pulling him to me. “I’m okay. Everything is okay, remember?”

He shakes his head but clutches me somehow closer. The soap lingering on his body rushes over my skin, slippery and wet as we slide against each other.

For a long time, we just stand there, water pulsing against us, only half of my body wet where he’s been a wall against the spray.

“Can I wash your hair?” he pleads, his hand trailing to tuck against my hair. “Please, P.”

I nod and he turns me toward the shower so he can gently, carefully wet my curls. It’s impossible not to feel the hard length of him grow against me the more his fingers are in my hair.

“So beautiful.” The whisper of his fingers over my low spine make me shiver and arch. “I—goddamn it, Paloma, I’m sorry—”

I try to turn, but he catches my chin. “What?”

“I want to fuck you.” He shakes his head with a self-deprecating laugh. “Is that so fucked up? I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Normally, I’d point out that we are dating and naked in the shower together—that his desire for me is anything but “fucked up.” That feeling desired by him right now is more healing for me than he could ever understand.

But the look on his face is filled with anxiety and self-hatred, so I shake my head almost violently.

“No, Bennett,” I whisper, turning in his arms despite his attempts at resistance. “I want you. I want you to make me feel good.”

Chapter 74

NOW

Bennett

Her permission rolls over me like a calm, lapping wave on a dry beach.

A groan works from my throat and I bury my fingers in Paloma’s wet hair, pressing my mouth to her neck as I trip forward. My hands cup the back of her skull carefully to keep her from bashing it with the intensity of the kiss as I press her into the tile.

It’s her in the water.

It’s her here in my arms. Moving like I’ve watched her body move for more than three years. My fingers drag across her skin almost desperately. There is no exchange of power, no tip of my control; just her moving against me.

Bite down on my shoulder again and let me show you.

Like poetry in motion. Like water against skin—I tongue along her collarbone to taste her sharper edges, harder to find with the curve and softness of her skin.

The water is warm enough to give her skin the peachy flush that drives me wild, to the point that I feel like I’ll break without being inside of her.

“Let me inside you,” I beg into her ear, biting down on her shoulder. She nods, head tipping back, one of her thighs tightening where she’s almost climbed my body.

I take myself in hand—one hard tug—before slipping against her wet skin, into the warmth of her pussy. I’m tall, but my thighs are arguably my strongest attribute, so it’s not hard to bend at the knee and rest her body against them, hoisting her up off the tile floor slightly.

It makes her entire body arch, fingers scoring into my skin with light scratches.