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“Stay.”
He blinks as if he’s unsure of what I said.
“Please.” I chew at my lip. “I don’t want to be alone.”
“Love,” he sighs and pulls me into his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I tilt my head up toward his. “Kiss me.”
“Are you sure?” He skims his fingers along my cheek.
“Yes.”
Slowly, he presses his lips onto mine, moving them with gentle ease.
My heart skips a beat and I melt into him, kissing him back and enfolding my arms around his neck. I tug him toward me, desperate for the closeness of his body.
Simon glides his hands down and hooks them under my thighs, gripping tight and pulling me off the floor.
I wrap my legs around him and part his lips with my tongue, dipping it inside and dancing it along his. I skim my fingers up into his hair and wish there was a way to bottle up what it is I’m feeling right now.
Hope? Happiness? Love?I can’t be sure, but it feels like a mixture of all of them.
Simon backs us into the shower, both of us fully fucking clothed. He kicks off his shoes and I do the same, multitasking as best as I can. Both of us giggle as we haphazardly rid ourselves of the apparel keeping us apart.
He shoves me against the wall and stares into my eyes. “Love…” With his chest rising and falling, he releases me to my feet. He grips the hem of my shirt and drags it over my head.
I raise my arms to help him but grit my teeth at the contact the fabric had against the bandage on my arm.
Simon’s gaze immediately falls to my ribs. “What happened?” He hovers his fingers just along them without applying hardly any pressure.
I wince in anticipation of the contact. “It’s fine,” I tell him. “I’m fine.”
“Don’t lie to me, love.” He turns me to get a better look. “Is that from a boot?”
I nod and recall the memory of the man who took me to Gwyneth's place kicking me in the side when I tried to get away. He had tripped me, knocking me to the ground, and then slammed into me with his steel-toed fucking boot with enough force to send me onto my back. He gripped my ankle and dragged me screaming into the house where he tied me to the chair. It wasn't long after that Gwyneth entered the room and all of my suspicions had been proven right. It was her orchestrating the whole fucking thing—a truth I realized all too late.
Simon kneels and presses his lips to my bruised and swollen ribs. “I’m so sorry, love.” He tugs my leggings over my ass and peels them and my panties down, sliding my feet out of each side and tossing them with no regard to where they land. He stands before me, reaching around and unclasping my bra with one hand, the other pressed along my cheek.
I grab his shirt and inch it up upward and over his head, revealing his perfectly chiseled chest and abdomen. I skim my fingers along every ridge and settle them at the button on his jeans.
He undoes and pulls them down over his hips, stepping out and throwing them with our other clothes.
I keep my gaze trained on his as he comes forward and brings me to his chest.
We stand there, completely fucking naked, just holding each other in this massive shower. There’s something so intimate about our embrace despite it not being sexual at all.
Simon steps into the water and massages my scalp, moistening my hair and no doubt ridding me of the aftermath of what happened at Castleberry Court. “Turn around.” He spins me at my waist so my back is to him.
“What are you doing?” I ask him.
"Washing your hair." He reaches for a bottle from the shelf that's on the wall and squirts some of the stuff into his hand. Simon lathers it into my hair, going in cautious circular motions and making sure he gets every inch of my hair. He grabs one of the many faucets spraying us and uses it to completely rinse the shampoo and bloody mixture down the drain.
“You don’t have to do that.” I stop him from grabbing another bottle.
“You’re right, love. I don’thaveto. I want to.” He latches onto it anyway and spreads conditioner through the ends of my hair, carefully pulling out any tangles that he finds. “And while that’s sitting.” He goes to grab the shampoo but I stop him.
"No. Allow me." I plop some of it into my hands and even though he persists slightly, he allows me to shampoo his hair. I run my fingers along his scalp and do as thorough of a job as he had done for me. I make a little mohawk and giggle at him. "Sorry, I had to."
