Ariana
Henry’s fingers worked through my hair, massaging the shampoo into my scalp, his touch soothing and comforting as we soaked in his oversized tub. His thighs bracketed me on either side, his chest a solid wall at my back, the scent of eucalyptus filling the room.
I didn’t speak. Not because I was too numb or raw or vulnerable.
But because, for the first time in years, I felt strangely at peace.
I had no idea how Henry did it. How he always seemed to know exactly what I needed and selflessly gave it to me. Or forced it out of me.
Like earlier, when I’d begged him to take away my pain. When I’d begged him to make me feel something else.
He did…in a way. But he wouldn’t let me stop feeling. Instead, he made me feel. Made me come to terms with everything I’d kept bottled up for ages.
I thought I’d already made my peace with everything Victor had done to me.
I hadn’t.
It took Henry forcing me to release all those emotions I’d locked up tight. To grieve for everything I’d lost because of Victor. To mourn the woman I once was.
Only then could I finally become the woman I was meant to be.
“I’ve always wanted to do this,” Henry murmured, pulling me back to the present.
“We have taken a bath together before,” I reminded him.
“That’s not what I’m talking about.”
His thumbs pressed into the base of my skull in slow circles that made me relax into his touch even more.
This was always one of my favorite parts of going to the salon.
Victor had insisted I look the part of his perfect wife, my appearance always curated to suit his demands, which required regular salon visits.
He probably would have changed his mind if he knew how much I looked forward to them just to have three hours to myself. To have three hours where someone pampered me. To have three hours where I could escape the horrors of my reality.
And during those few minutes when my stylist massaged my scalp, it made me forget my troubles.
But having Henry do the same thing felt even better.
Even more personal.
Even more relaxing.
“I’ve always wanted to wash your hair.” He pressed a tender kiss to my shoulder blade. “I like taking care of you.”
I sighed, relishing in the feel of his hands working my scalp. This man had seen me at my lowest of lows. He knew my body in a way I didn’t think any man ever would. Yet having him wash my hair felt much more intimate than anything we’d ever done.
“I like it, too,” I murmured.
“Thank you.”
“For what?” I glanced over my shoulder, meeting his stormy gaze. “I should be the one thanking you.”
He pinched my chin, bringing my lips toward his. “For trusting me to take care of you, Ariana. You have my word I always will.”
There was so much sincerity in his voice it nearly undid me, my throat tightening again. I didn’t know how I could have had any tears left. But these were different tears than before. Tears of admiration. Devotion. Love.
This man had taken me. Pulled me into his world for revenge. And yet his arms had become the safest place I’d ever known.
