Her touch is gentle at first, clinical. She traces the muscles of my chest, cleaning the cuts. She washes my neck. My back, a steady rhythm.
I watch her.
Her hair is pasted to her skull. Water streams down her face, over her eyelashes. Her eyes are dark, dilated in the steam.
She moves to my good arm. Washes the bicep, the forearm, the hand that killed three men tonight.
Then she shifts lower.
She washes my hips. Her fingers graze the v-line.
My pulse spikes.
The exhaustion remains, a heavy weight in my bones, but something else wakes up. Something primal. Something needing to affirm life against the death we waded through.
“Iris.” I reach out, grabbing her waist.
She looks up without speaking.
“You’re done cleaning.” I pull her in.
Her wet skin slams against mine. The friction sparks electric. The pain in my arm flares, then drifts distant, drowned out by the sudden, overwhelming need to be inside her.
I kiss her.
Not gentle. It tastes of water and iron. I devour her mouth, biting her lip. I need to know she’s real, that she isn’t a ghost I left in the snow.
She makes a low, desperate sound, wrapping her arms around my neck. She presses her body against mine, careless of the injuries.
I walk her backward until her spine hits the cold tile wall.
I lift her. The weight strains my bruised ribs, but I don’t stop. I hook my good arm under her thigh.
She wraps her legs around my waist. She knows what I need. She needs it too. We survived the end of the world to create a new one.
I enter her.
One thrust. Deep. Hard. Claiming.
“Yes. God, yes.” She throws her head back against the tiles.
I drive into her. Frantic and desperate. The water beats down on us, blinding and hot.
I’m not the protector now. I want to brand her. I want to leave a mark on her soul.
“You’re mine,” I growl against her ear.
The steam swirls around us. The pain in my arm becomes a dull throb, a counterpoint to the pleasure.
Her muscles tighten. She shatters.
She claws my shoulders, nails digging, screaming my name into the steam.
I follow her. I pour myself into her, emptying the rage, the fear, and the violence. I give her everything I have left.
I rest my forehead on hers. Both of us panting, hearts hammering in unison. The water runs cold, but neither of us moves.
I hold her there, pinned against the wall, until my legs threaten to give out.
