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I know that he’s behind me. He’s always there, always watching, waiting to hurt me or love me or save me or drown me.
I don’t even know where I’m going until I’m forced to stop because one more step will send me into the deep end of the indoor pool. I stand at the edge of the softly gleaming water, breathing hard, and before I even know what I’m doing I’m peeling off my clothing. I hear Elio enter behind me and swear when he sees what I’m doing. I turn around to see him fiddling with his phone, probably turning off the security feed to this room so none of his men will see me stripping down to nothing.
When I’m fully naked, I jump.
The water closes over me like the most familiar sort of comfort. As soon as my head’s below the surface, I exhale, sending gurgling bubbles upward so that my body is heavy enough to sink to the bottom. I used to love doing this is a kid. Sitting at the bottom of a pool, just to see how long I could stand to stay there.
It’s morning outside, and sun filters down through the water. Even at the bottom, it’s not too dark. I keep my eyes open as my body burns with the lack of oxygen. I’ll have to push off from the bottom and go back up soon.
I will. I know he’s waiting for me.
But I guess Elio isn’t content to wait, I’ve only counted to eighteen before the dark shape of him comes at me like a torpedo. He swims powerfully downward, grabbing my arms before he reorients himself in the water, getting his feet beneath him. Gripping me hard, he shoves off the bottom of the pool, and together we careen upwards until we break the surface.
He doesn’t stop there. Swimming like a lifeguard, he hauls me to the shallow end. Once we’ve both got our feet underneath us, he backs me up against the side of the pool, caging me in with his body.
“Is loving me good?” he pants. “I don’t fucking know. Probably not. But I do know that what we have is fucking real, Deirdre. And maybe real things don’t have to be just good or just bad. They just have to be strong.”
He holds up the sopping, gloved shape of his left hand. He’s still fully clothed. His wedding band catches the light, a ring of bright purity contrasting with the darkness of the leather.
“You and me, Songbird? We are fucking platinum.” He grabs my left hand, forcing his fingers between mine and then lifting it so that I’m confronted with my own rings. “We are diamond. We are bound. By blood and vows and your fucking soul fused to whatever’s left of mine. So don’t tell me we can’t get past something. If I have to, I’ll get past it for the both of us, and then I will fucking drag you right along with me.”
The arrogance in that statement is almost laughable. Telling me that he will simply make me get over the way my father died in such confusing, traumatic circumstances.
And yet…
That brutal, unerring confidence makes me feel, for the first time in days, like maybe, just maybe, there could be a tiny little light at the end of this bleak tunnel.
We’re not there yet. We probably aren’t even close.
But Elio will fucking drag me there if he has to. He promised me he would.
And Elio never breaks his promises. Not the ones he makes to me.
With a cry, I throw my arms around his neck and plaster my wet mouth to his. He responds instantly, desperately, drawing my tongue into his mouth and groaning deeply. A hot, powerful shiver builds along my groin, and I suddenly feel more sensitive than I ever have in my life.
Elio’s kisses are like those of a dying man. Like I’m his only oxygen. He bites and sucks along my lips, my cheek, my jaw, all the while tearing ferally at the zipper of his sodden pants. He shudders and I gasp, clutching at him when I feel his thick head press against my exposed flesh. He grips my ass and lifts me. The water makes me float, and I lock my legs around his back as he enters me with one terrible, perfect thrust.
He moves relentlessly within me, and I’m already there, already breathless with the urge to come. Everything is water and power and Elio and the hardness of him holding me up, holding me together. I’ve needed this, needed him, so fucking badly.
I think I’ll always need him.
Elio’s gaze pours into mine. Neither of us look away as white hot need builds inside the place our bodies meet.
Neither of us speak, either.
Because what is there left to say?
I love him. And maybe it’s not easy.
Maybe it will never truly be alright.
But it is real. And it is so fucking strong.
I caress both sides of his face – the smooth and the scarred – and watch with tender, loving agony as his face buckles under the force of his need for me. He pumps harder and I sense that we’re both close. Close to too many things at once. Pain and pleasure and a past we can’t escape. This connection between us eviscerates. It burns me up and tears me down, building me into something shaped by him and only him.
A guttural sound flies from my throat. Elio’s eyes and cheeks darken at the same time. His frame goes rock hard against mine, and one strained breath later he explodes at the same fraction of an instant that I let go into pulsing oblivion.
We grind frantically against each other, riding each other through our climaxes. I don’t think either of us want this moment to end. It’s a tiny slice of salvation for us both.
