They don’t.
The engine stops and I am jostled around again. Warm, strong arms undo the seatbelt I didn’t register being put on and I am lifted like a bride. Roman’s grip tightens, like he is afraid I might slip through his arms if he loosens even slightly. I barely register us moving through the guys’ house before I am placed gently on a cold countertop. Water runs somewhere behind me as I stare at nothing but black tiles. Steam curls in the air while Roman stands in front of me. He presses two fingers under my chin and tilts my face up, leaning forward to kiss my forehead. He studies my face for a moment before his hand comes up to stroke my cheek.
“Can I take your clothes off to wash you?” I nod, my throat too tight to speak.
Roman lifts my hands above my head and slowly pulls my top off. With careful movements, he unzips my skirt and lets it fall to the floor. Then he unclasps my bra and eases it away, never letting his eyes linger on any part of my body for too long. I register, distantly, that I should feel embarrassed, but I don’t. I feel safe, cared for… special.
He lifts me into his arms again and carries me to the bath, lowering me in as I hiss softly at the warmth against my skin. He climbs in behind me, fully clothed and draws me back against his chest. His arms wrap around me, steady and grounding, as he picks up a flannel and begins to wash me.
The scent of jasmine surrounds me and my body softens into his. The cloth moves over my shoulders, my arms, my hands,slow and thorough. Again and again, like he is trying to clean something deeper than what sits on my skin. My head rests against his shoulder as his chin settles into my hair.
“It’s over,” he murmurs, though his voice sounds strained, like he is trying to convince himself too. “You are safe, Fae. You are home.”
Home.
What a strange concept. I don’t think I have ever had one.
I stare at the surface of the water as it ripples around us, my reflection fractured and wrong. My chest feels hollow, like something vital has been scooped out and left behind in that room. Not pain, just absence. Roman rocks us slowly back and forth, the motion steady and patient.
We stay like that long after the water begins to cool until he lifts me out and places me back onto the countertop. He takes a towel and dries me like I am something sacred. The fabric moves slowly over my skin, like he is afraid of startling me back into reality. He doesn’t rush. His hands are warm, steady and impossibly gentle as he pats me dry.
I watch him dry himself and leave the bathroom. For a moment I don’t know what to do, but he returns with a large top in his hand. He guides me and I lift my arms, letting him pull it over my head. It swallows me, hanging loose around my thighs as the soft cotton brushes my skin. I lift the collar and breathe in his scent without thinking.
Roman opens a toothbrush from a new packet, directs me to open my mouth, and brushes my teeth with a care I have not felt since my mum. He dries my hair, then lifts me from the counter and carries me to his bed. Gently, he lays me down and pulls the quilt over me. The soft cotton adds another layer of safety as I sink into his pillows. The bed dips behind me and I am pulled into a hard body, a quiet groan leaving me at the comfort of him beside me.
“Thank you,” I whisper as he pulls me closer, one arm sliding under my head while the other settles across my body, his hand resting over my heart.
“Never thank me for this, Tinkerbell. It is the minimum you deserve.” His voice is low and soft against my skin, his breath brushing my neck and making me shift slightly, drawing a quiet grunt from him.
I try to close my eyes, but every time I do I am back in the crypt. Images crash through me. Jack collecting my period blood. Dr. Fisher changing my IV while I thought I was finally getting rest. The other masked men…Were they part of it too? The thought of Fisher still breathing makes something dark coil inside me. For every breath he takes, the past tightens around my throat.
I turn into Roman, pressing into his chest, my head tucked beneath his jaw as I draw myself closer. My breath catches when I feel the hard line of him against my thigh.
“Ignore it,” he murmurs, his eyes still closed as I tilt my head to look at him.
“What if I don’t want to?” I whisper back and his eyes open slightly taking me in.
I curl around him, my heart rate picking up as the thought settles in. The desperate need for something to drown out the noise in my head. The images. The not knowing. The loss.
“I don’t want to feel this,” I continue as I straddle him, crawling up his body. Our breaths mix as his hands settle on my hips, squeezing gently. I press down against him, shifting slightly as a soft moan slips from my lips. “I don’t want to think, Roman.”
His breath hitches, an internal battle playing out across his face as he presses his forehead to mine, his breath warm against my lips. Like he is holding himself back. Like he is scared to take from me like this. Roman keeps me there, caught somewherebetween grief and wanting, where forgetting feels too close, and for the first time since the dungeon, I feel something other than emptiness.
His mouth finds mine slowly, like he is asking rather than taking. The kiss is soft at first as his lips brush mine. There is no rush, no force, just warmth and patience. He lingers, pressing closer, then pulls back just enough for my breath to catch between us.
His taste settles into me and in that moment, I realise I don’t know how I ever went without him.
This time when I lean forward, it isn’t a kiss, it’s a claim. His hands move with purpose as I whine into his mouth, grinding my wet pussy against his cock, his boxers the only barrier between us and what I actually want.
He lets me lead and it shouldn’t annoy me, but it does. He wants to be gentle. I feel it in the way his hands hesitate, the way his touch lingers instead of grips, like he thinks I might shatter if he holds me too rough.
Does he believe his softness will save me?
It won’t.
“Don’t.” I whisper, breaking the kiss and pressing my forehead to his. “Don’t be careful with me.”
His jaw tightens. “Tink?—”
