Over and over I replay every interaction I’ve had with Zebulund. Every stupid joke, every comment to pacify him when I should have been beating the life out of him. My hands are shaking so hard I have to tuck them under my arms. All the comments I’ve made to Maggie, telling her to let go of her revenge. My stomach clenches with guilt.
“I’m an idiot,” I say to the room.
“No, you’re not.” Maggie leans against the doorframe. “It wasn’t my intention to make things worse for you. I only wanted to help you understand why I’m the way I am.”
She steps forward. She’s disheveled but beautiful as ever. As soon as I think it, I feel ashamed. I’m having a hard time reconciling the immense feelings I have for her with my guilt. How can I even think about my wants right now? Her needs first. From here out.
But what does she need?
“I’m fine,” I finally say, realizing people usually respond when spoken to. “I only wish—” I stop and shake my head. This isn’t about me. “I understand now.”
“Really?” She lets out a slow breath.
She steps closer.
“Because if I can stop him, if I can stop just one girl from going through—”
I shake my head to stop her. “I understand.”
The small bathroom swirls with steam. Color returns to her cheeks immediately as her shoulders relax. Her gaze moves over my features, snag on my lips, and I feel it as much as if she leaned forward and licked them. I clear my throat.
“Okay, well, I’ll let you get to it. I’ll stay nearby. If you need anything, just—”
I can’t speak anymore. No blood to brain. Her pulling up the hem of her dress. No matter how many times I see her naked it’s never enough. It’s worse because I just want to touch all that much more. I try to speak but my tongue is too big for my mouth. It needs moisture, it needs…
I clear my throat again and back away but bump into the granite sink. I focus on the cool surface under my hands and grip so hard that the rough edges dig into my palms. My breath comes out through puffed cheeks. There’s the ceiling. Would you look at that? That’s a nice light fixture. There are Maggie’s hard nipples poking the fabric. There’s Maggie’s exposed stomach.
Shit.
Back to the ceiling. Count the inset light fixtures. One. Two. Two gorgeous, perky breasts. No. Lights.
“Roe?”
Three. Four.
“Roe?”
I stay focused looking up. “Mmm-hmm?”
“Can I have your help?”
Oh boy, I cannot do this. “I should go.”
“I need you to stay.”
Hearing her say “I need you” saws away at the last remaining thread holding me together. The counter digs deeper into my palms.
“I need to go,” I say.
“Is this better?”
I look down and she’s gone. Like totally gone. I let out a breath.
“Yes. Better.” Her dress is on the floor.
The bath is a large marble infinity tub that overflows before filtering and recycling the water. It’s more efficient than any other on the market. Super green. Right now I’ve never been so jealous of a fucking tub.
The water laps over the side and though I can’t see her, she’s right there. I don’t see even a hint of her. The water doesn’t even seem to get displaced except a little at first.
