“Shower,” he said.
“Yes.”
They didn’t speak while they undressed. He reached for her first, his hands finding the hem of her ruined shirt and lifting it over her head. He unhooked her bra, set it aside, crouched to help her step out of her jeans and her shoes. She worked his tee shirt off his shoulders, then his belt and his cargos. She undid the towel and set it on the counter. Their clothes went into the plastic lawn bag Colin had set by the door—that bag would not be coming back to Colorado with them, probably destined for an incinerator somewhere.
Colin turned the shower on then held out his hand and she took it. The water was hot, quickly turning the room white with steam and driving every bad thing out. Maren stood under it with her eyes closed and felt the day begin to loosen its grip.
Colin’s hands moved into her hair, working the shampoo through with the same slow deliberateness he’d used with the brush. She pressed her palms flat against the shower wall and breathed in like she’d been underwater a long time.
We’re here, she thought.We’re both still here.
His hands moved to her shoulders, her back, tracing the length of her spine. He turned her in his arms until she was facing him. She tipped her face up and found his mouth with hers. The kiss started soft and turned urgent in the space of abreath—not desperate or frantic, but necessary, grounding her to this moment and the fact that they were both standing upright with their hearts still beating.
He pressed her back against the tile and she pulled him with her, and what passed between them was less about desire than it was about proof of survival. Proof that Dekker was gone and Maren was whole and Colin was here and they had done it, they had actually done it, and they were going home.
His mouth moved down her throat and she tipped her head back against the tile and let the sensation take her over. His hands were everywhere—her waist, her hips, the curve of her breast—deliberate and thorough, the same unhurried attention he’d given every brush stroke. Touching every inch of her like he needed to confirm with his own hands that she was alive.
And entirely his.
“Colin.” His name came out breathless.
“I’ve got you.” His voice vibrated low against her skin. “I’ve got you, baby.”
She believed him. She had believed him since the first moment she’d understood what kind of man he was, and she believed him now with the steam rising around them and his hand sliding up her inner thigh with devastating patience.
She gasped as her fingers curled into his shoulders when he found her clit and rubbed with the same focused attention he brought to everything that mattered to him. She felt her orgasm building under his hands, warm and inevitable, until she was trembling against the tile with his name on her lips and her forehead pressed to his chest.
“Colin,” she gasped.
“Let go, baby. Give it to me.”
He held her through it then let her breathe before his mouth found hers again. He kissed her deep and slowly, his hardness pressing against her belly. She loved feeling how much hewanted her and pulled him closer, rubbing her belly against him until he groaned.
When he lifted her, she wrapped her legs around him and he pressed her back against the tile, one hand braced against the wall, the other cradling her like she was precious treasure.
“Ready?” he breathed.
“God yes. I need you inside me, Colin.”
He reached between them and lined up his cock. He pressed slowly into her then moved with her, his face buried in the curve of her neck.
“Maren,” he said, rough and quiet, and it was the way he said her name—like it was the only word he needed—that undid her. She held on with both hands and let herself feel everything she’d been holding at arm’s length since the parking garage—the terror and the grief and the relief and the love, all of it crashing through her at once until she released it with her second orgasm. He followed a moment later, shuddering against her, then stilling.
They stayed like that while the water ran over them and the steam enveloped them and the whole terrible day finally, finally receded to somewhere neither of them had to look at directly.
He set her down gently. She kept her arms around him.
“I love you,” she said. The simplest possible sentence. The only one that covered all of it and still didn’t touch how she felt about him.
“I love you.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, then her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. “God, I love you, Maren.”
They stood under the water until it started to cool. Then Colin turned it off and they got out, dried off, and stepped into the bedroom. They had a few hours before they needed to set out for John Wayne Airport an hour and a half north for a red-eye flight back to Denver.
The white envelope stood out against the navy blue comforter.
Maren set it, unopened, on the bedside table.
Colin pulled back the covers and she crawled in. He set an alarm on his phone and curled himself around her. Maren didn’t think she’d be able to drift off until she woke from a dead sleep to the sound of Colin’s alarm a few hours later.
