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"What did Cisco want?" I clear my throat, my voice clogged with emotion as my eyes take her in, trying to equate her with what I know of past her and everything that we've been through.
"You know my brother," she shrugs, coming to rest by my side. "He wanted to make his position clear, as always. I'm telling you, the man is a control freak," she rolls her eyes.
My hand reaches for hers, squeezing tightly.
"Underneath all that cold demeanor, he does care about you. I'll be the first to admit that he has a strange way of showing it, but I don't think he's wholly made of ice."
"You're right," she nods. "I know he cares about me. But he can be an asshole of the biggest proportions."
"Good thing we're moving then," I wink at her.
She takes in the empty suitcases I've laid around before her questioning gaze finds mine.
"I didn't think you were serious."
"I've been thinking about this for a long time. There are a lot of things I've been working on behind the scenes, and it's all so you can be yourself. And happy. That's all I ever want."
Her face lights up, her beauty making me suck a sharp breath in. I don't think I'll ever get used to the way I react to her—the way one smile from her makes me the happiest bastard alive.
"Wow, I don't know what to say," she breathes out in wonder.
"You don't have to say anything now," I reply as I get up, swooping her in my arms and taking her to the bathroom. "But first I'm pampering you and then we can see about the next steps," I declare confidently.
And this is exactly where the difference lays with Noelle. I want nothing more than to spoil and care for her, but that desire isn't borne out of duty, expectation, or anything other than this instinctual urge to be there for her at every step of the way.
Her happiness ismyhappiness. Dedicating my life to her could never be a hardship. Not when it's for her as much as it is for myself. In giving her all of me, I'm taking all of her in return. And that ensures I'mneverempty.
That's the missing ingredient I've been searching for my whole life. Giving but without being drained—without feeling sapped of my entire essence to the point that I'm just a shell of a person.
She makes me whole. She makes me feel like myself—like I'm finally finding out the true meaning of that word.
Closing the door with my foot, I set her down, starting the water in the tub and adding a mix of oils and salts before topping it with a cherry-scented bath bomb—her favorite.
All the while, she's watching by the side, an amused smile on her face.
And as I stake a step towards her, she instinctively raises her hands, knowing fully well what I intend to do.
Chuckling, I proceed to divest her of her dress before doing the same to my clothes. Together, we step inside the steaming water, making ourselves comfortable in the tub.
"I'm never going to tire of the sight of you like this," I sigh in satisfaction, my eyes greedily taking her in.
The water reaches the top of her breasts, emphasizing the swell of her tits while contrasting perfectly with the tone of her skin.
Her hair is wet around the tips and strewn over her shoulders. Yet just as I derive pleasure from having her like this before me, there's also the evidence of what happened—the bruises that are still fresh from those fucking electrical wands.
She sees me stare at the slight discoloration, and before I can say anything, she moves, gliding through the water until she's face to face with me, her palms cupping my cheeks.
"Don't," she whispers.
"It's my fault," I shake my head, finally daring to bring my hands to her shoulders and trace the marks on her skin. "Fuck, pretty girl. You have no idea how much this hurts me."
"Nothing happened, Raf."
"Everythinghappened," I cut her off.
I need to get this off my chest, ease at leastsomeof the pressure building inside of me. Otherwise I might go mad.
Her brows draw together in confusion as she simply regards me, waiting for me to speak.
