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"It doesn’t matter. He's ruined everything. Again." Shivering, my arms come up to wrap around my body, not to warm myself... but to cover up. I feel dirty. Violated.
"Hey hey," Kylian whispers. "What are you doing?"
"I just feel him everywhere. Everywhere he touched, everything that's he's seen."
Kylian's brushes the hair off my face and gently presses a kiss to my lips. "Come with me."
"Where?"
"We're going to take it all back. Take every piece he took of you back."
I don't know what he means but I don't want to be alone, so when he leads me to the bathroom, I follow.
Without ever letting go of my hand, he turns the shower on, making sure it's warm enough.
"Can I take your T-shirt off?" he asks, quietly. I nod. He pulls it over my head and throws it to the side. "I'm going to take your leggings off, okay?"
I swallow and nod.
He gives me a smile as he hooks his fingers into the elastic of my pants and slowly drags them down my legs. He stands back up and takes my hand, helping me to step out of them.
I wait for him to ask to take my underwear off, but he doesn't.
"I'm going to take my clothes off too, is that alright? I can keep them on in you want."
This time it's a shake of my head.
He keeps his eyes on me as he slowly strips, never making a sudden movement, and keeping his briefs on as well.
Then, picking my hand up again, he holds the shower door open and leads me in.
The shower is about the size of my entire bathroom when I lived in New York, with a bench running along one side, and four showerheads, so that no matter where you’re standing in the shower, you're getting a full spray.
He stands me in the middle of the shower, letting the water cascade over the both us. He doesn't bother with the water washing over his eyes, but he reaches over, brushing the drops that make their way between my eyelashes and wetting my already wet eyes.
""I'm going to wash you, okay?" he says and waits until I show that I've heard and agree before he reaches for the loofah he'd left out for me and pumps some bodywash on it, rubbing it with his hand to later it up.
He stands in front of me but reaches around, starting on my shoulder blades. Slow, gentle concentric circles, getting me used to his touch. Then he leans in, whispering into my ear. "We're going to wash every last trace of him. Every place he touched you, every place he ever laid his eyes on, we're going to wash it all away. He's not ever going to have any claim over you again. You hear me?" The last few words are spoken with a firmness I didn't expect. and it makes me believe him.
He gently maneuvers me around so he can reach further down my back, and over the curve of my ass, running the loofah over every inch of my skin. Down my legs, over the back of my thighs and my calves all the way to my ankles. His touch is featherlight, but when I close my eyes, I can feel him stripping, scrubbing, sanding away the parts I'm ashamed of. When he's standing up again, he’s facing me, a gentle smile on his lips. "Is it okay? What I'm doing?"
I reach out and touch him gently on the chest as a thank you.
"I'm going to wash your front now, okay? Tell me if you want to stop."
He starts slow, pressing the loofah to my collarbone. The pressure on my skin almost makes me jump and he stops, giving me a moment. Then the circles start again, covering my body with soap suds and then letting the water wash it away, taking my ex’s fingerprints away.
Over my breasts, he lingers for just a moment and then he washes my nipples, making sure whatever memory I have left of him touching me there is sucked down the drain and gone forever.
As he lowers himself, washing from my inner thighs down to the instep of my foot, inch by inch, my shame begins to fade.
But the job isn’t done. And we both know it.
I take his hand and place it on the elastic of my panties.
“Are you sure?"
"Yes. Please,“ I say for the first time since we entered the bathroom. "Please."
