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Nero wouldn’t let me go.
He’ll never let me go.
The relief of not having to spend the rest of my life alone is so consuming I feel like I might drown in it.
Nero might be crazy. But he’s mine. And he loves me. And even if it’s wrong, I love him too.
I tip my head back, letting the water chase the tears off my face.
I’ll never be alone again.
Nero standing in my doorway.
Nero walking into the café.
Nero pulling my body against his at a concert.
Nero washing my body in my small, cramped shower.
Nero breaking into my apartment to make sure I don’t leave.
Nero telling me he loves me. Holding my hand in front of his men. Calling it our home.
I allow one more shuddering breath. One more moment of indulgence. Before I shake my head.
No more crying.
Using my feet, I scoot back until my face is out of the direct spray.
Crying is exhausting, and even though that was a quick little bout, I’m ready to crawl back into that big comfortable bed.
I need to collect myself and do the showering part of taking a shower.
I’m shifting my weight, getting into a kneeling position, when I see it. The recessed shelves built into the wall.
One is above my position, but the other is right at eye level. And a sound between a laugh and a choked cry tumbles out of me when I reach out and pick up the bottle of rose scented body wash. Next to it are three sets of very expensive looking shampoo and conditioner. All the bottles are shades of pink and they’re all rose scented. And next to all of that is a fancy looking rose hips face wash and two big jars of body scrub, also rose.
I bet when I get out and dig through the cabinets, I’ll find lotion to match the body wash.
Arching my neck, I look at the contents of the shelf above mine. No surprise that the bottles are all men’s products, except for a small, mostly empty bottle of red liquid tucked into the corner.
And I smile, because I know it was fuller than that when he stole it from me.
CHAPTER67
Nero
The scentof roses hits my nose, before I even reach the door to our room, and that’s all it takes for my dick to get hard.
Shifting the mugs into the same hand as the coffee pot, I adjust my half-sprung cock before turning the door handle.
My eyes immediately look across the room and find the bathroom door open, but the room beyond is dark and silent. I feel a tinge of disappointment at missing Payton in the shower.
Then I see her, and a sense of rightness fills my chest.
She’s standing in the doorway to the walk-in closet, damp hair twisted into a pair of braids, her bangs half-dry and a little wild. And her eyes…
I use my foot to kick the bedroom door shut behind me.
