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As one hand continues to work me closer and closer to my release, his other moves up my body, ghosting over the curve of my spine before settling on my shoulder, right where the tattoo of the bird is.
“Come for me, Sparrow,” he grunts.
It’s not a fucking request.
His fingers flick at my clit, making my entire body shudder, and I come hard, my head dropping between my arms as my pussy tightens around him.
A deep grunt falls from his lips, and he stops thrusting abruptly and pulls out. The absence of his cock inside me, combined with the lingering waves of my orgasm, are almost enough to make me collapse.
But it doesn’t matter, because my legs no longer need to hold me up.
In one quick movement, Gray turns me around again and hoists me into his arms, pressing me against the steam-covered shower wall as he drives back into me. His cock is already slick with my arousal, and my body welcomes him as if he’s coming home.
He buries his face in the crook of my neck, his lips roaming feverishly over the dark marks there, as if he could heal them through his touch alone. The hard tiles dig into my back as he pumps into me furiously, and my legs shake as I hold on to him, pushed almost beyond the point of exhaustion.
With a roar, he comes hard. His cock pulses and jerks as his hips grind against mine, and he keeps thrusting over and over until there’s nothing left. Until every bit of his essence has poured into me.
Until we’re as close as two people can physically be.
It’s only in the aftermath, with our wet bodies pressed tightly together, that I realize how fucking fast both of our hearts are beating. They race side by side as we cling to each other, holding on for dear life. Finally, they begin to slow, beating in an even rhythm as if they’re falling into sync.
“I’m sorry,” Gray murmurs. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
I don’t know if he’s apologizing for losing control when he tried so hard not to, or for not being able to protect me from Alan, or what. But I don’t ask him to clarify, because it doesn’t matter.
I lift my head, grabbing a fistful of his hair to drag his head up too so our eyes can meet.
“No.” My voice is firm, but there’s a tenderness in it I almost don’t recognize. “You don’t get to feel guilty for any of this. We’ve had our shit in the past. I’ve been pissed at you; I’ve tried to convince myself I hated you. But that’s done now. I know you won’t hurt me again. I fucking trust you. So I don’t need you to be sorry. I only need you to be with me… just like this.”
I kiss him as I finish speaking, and I feel the tense lines of his body melt against mine as he kisses me back.
I don’t think I’ve convinced him to stop worrying. To stop feeling responsible. But it feels like something has shifted between us, and his expression isn’t as darkly tortured when we finally break apart. He pulls out and sets me gently on my feet, then helps me clean up.
As determined as I am to be strong and independent, I don’t raise a finger to stop him when he lathers up his hands and washes my hair. It feels fucking amazing, and with Gray—with all the Sinners—I don’t feel weaker for accepting his help.
I feel stronger.
After we finish showering, we towel off and dress quickly. He brought up some clothes Declan scrounged from his mom’s room—a pair of leggings and a t-shirt—and I slip them on. They’re not my usual style, but it beats the fuck out of putting on the clothes I had on last night. I’d rather burn those than wear them again.
Gray follows close behind me as we make our way back downstairs, smelling of the same sandalwood and sea air soap I used on my own body. The barely contained guilt is now gone, erased between us, but I can still feel the tension radiating from his body and mingling with my own.
This shit won’t just end because I’m safe for the moment. I’m never going to be truly safe until Alan is behind bars.
And even then, I think with a chill, how connected is he? Can he still manipulate things out here from behind bars? Can we even get him behind bars?
Gray’s fingers brush up against my palm and I let him take my hand for a second, squeezing his.
At least I’m not alone.
I’m still not totally used to having people in my corner, but I’m grateful as fuck for it.
We find everyone else in the kitchen, gathered around a large island in the middle of the room with a bunch of untouched food spread out in front of them. Max looks like she’s showered too, or at least splashed some water on her face, and Declan hands her a shot of whiskey that she takes with a grateful look.
When we walk in, Elias’s gaze snaps to me, then Gray. His jaw twitches, as if he can tell what just happened between the two of us in the shower, as if he can still smell the sex on our skin. The way his eyes flash makes my skin go hot all over again, my body thrumming with energy despite the lingering weakness.
With deliberate strides, he walks over to me and pulls me flush against his warm side, guiding me to the other side of the island counter.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
