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“You always did make it sound so easy.”
“We don’t have to make it hard either.”
She embraces me, and her mouth is to my ear when she whispers, “We’ll leave our worries for another day.” A kiss is left behind when she walks down the hall to the bathroom.
I’m still gripping the railings like my life depends on it because no matter how convinced she is about tonight, I can’t convince myself that it will be smooth sailing tomorrow.
She’s the same woman I’ve been thinking about since the day we broke up. No one in the years since has come close. But here I am about to take a shower with her like I can walk away tomorrow not being utterly changed by merely being in her presence. Fuck.
It doesn’t matter. I’m already walking down that hallway, every creaky floorboard announcing my approach, and pushing open the bathroom door. She’s standing there in the glow of candlelight with a towel wrapped around her and her hand hanging under the water. Her blue eyes remind me of a pool in the summertime. She’s giving me so much trust in this one exchange.
I can’t screw this up.
I can’t screw her over.
I can’t take walking away from her the same way it played out last time.
If only for tonight, I have to be everything. All in. For her and for me.
Moving into the small space, I get in hers. I lower my gaze as I grip the top of the towel to unwrap her like a present.
“I’m nervous,” she says.
My eyes find hers again, and I smile to reassure her. “Don’t be.”
Holding the towel open, I study her bare body. Every curve and shadow draws me in, her body pure perfection. The fullness of her breasts mixes with the familiar dip from her waist to her hips. The silkiness of her skin covers her feminine softness. “You’re beautiful, Delilah.”
A heavy breath is exhaled, and relief filters through her. “Thank you.”
Her reaction is unusual. She’s always been a stunning girl. She turned the heads of all the guys at school. Yet before me now is a woman who needs reassurance. In the back of my mind, I know Cutler hit her, but did he beat her self-esteem down too? Fucker. How could he do that?
Why did he do it?
I doubt one night will undo the damage, but if I can give her a reprieve from her battered heart, I will. I hang the towel on the hook behind me and take down my boxers while she watches. I understand the nerves. It’s been a long time since we’ve been together, but as we’re standing here, it’s starting to feel as though we were never apart, and the love we once shared is within reach again.
Superficially, I like how she looks at me like she’s about to drool. Makes me glad I went to the gym and got a few rounds inside the ring. I took a few blows to my stomach, but my opponent steered clear of my face. I told him I had to look good for tonight.
As much as I wished to be taking a shower with Delilah, I didn’t actually think it would be happening. Reaching out, I test the water, which has warmed. My gaze roams her body leisurely. That’s when I spot it. “Is that a tattoo?”
I hear the fast intake of air, and her eyes widen just enough for me to know she’s embarrassed. Her hand covering the delicate skin just above her pubic bone and an inch to the right also tells me that. I’m intrigued, really intrigued, so I lean down for a better look. “What is it?”
She stops me, grabbing my bicep. “Just pretend you didn’t see it. It was a mistake. A drunken night with my sister during a visit to Manhattan is to blame.” She steps into the tub and under the shower spray, tilting her hips away from me so I can’t see the artwork.
Following her into the tub, I ask, “Why are you hiding it from me?”
“Because I can’t explain it without ruining the moment,” she snaps.
I run my hands over her shoulders, leaving one hand on the side of her neck. “Hey, you can’t ruin this. I want you. You want me. This right here is all good, honeysuckle.”
After looking away, she takes a deep breath and then exhales. Her head goes up, hiding her face from me, and she huffs. “Fine.” She angles her hips toward me, giving me an open invitation to peruse her body, which I happily do.
“What is this?” I grin while squatting down. It’s only a number in black and gold—Solace Pointe High School colors. It’s meaningless to anyone else but means everything to me. I run my finger over the number eight and look up.
The heat from the shower isn’t causing the red that covers her face, but I pretend it is by standing up and adjusting the water to cool us off. “It’s getting steamy in here.” Delilah’s still refusing to look at me, so I lean down to find her gaze. “I think that might be the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
