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With her lips on mine, her hands went to the wide straps with bumble bees buzzing around her neck. Undoing the knot at her nape and the one in the middle of her back, she never stopped kissing me as the bikini top fell away.
I wanted to see.
To touch.
But her tongue stroked mine, dragging a groan from me as she shimmied out of the bottoms and stood before me bare.
Standing straight, she ended our kiss and tensed. She dropped her eyes as if afraid of my attention on her. I couldn’t speak as I drank in her beauty: the slightly fuller breasts, gently rounded stomach from carrying Ayla, and the curvy hips I’d always loved.
She was older. Wiser. And oh, so fucking beautiful.
She flinched as I ran my fingers over the silvery stretch marks on her lower belly.
“I-I’m different to who you remember,” she breathed.
“No.” I shook my head and cupped her hipbones, tracing my thumbs over her soft skin. “You’re perfect. You were perfect then. You’re perfect now. You’ll be perfect when you’re old and grey and cranky.”
She smiled. “Cranky, huh?”
“I can definitely see you getting stroppy with people.”
“Oh, I’m rather good at that already.” She ducked and kissed me. “Your daughter has made sure that I’ve paid for every stress I gave my parents when I was her age. She’s a little tornado.”
I sucked in a breath at the sudden flare of loss. “I’ve missed out on so much.”
“You have.” She ran her fingers through my longish hair. “But I promise I’ll tell you every little detail. I remembered for you. I spoke to you every night before I went to sleep and whispered about her antics. I’ve taken copious amounts of photos so you can see her in every stage of growth. Her caterpillar stage, toddler stage, baby butterfly stage.”
“I wasn’t aware I gave you an insect for a child.” I chuckled.
“It’s the best way to describe her. She has wings now, and she’s unstoppable.” Her eyes dropped to my shirt and her fingers trembled a little as they landed on the button closest to my throat. “May I?”
I swallowed hard.
And nodded.
With dexterous fingers, she unbuttoned my grey shirt, one at a time, parting the fabric and revealing all the moments I’d endured.
Neri might have captured Ayla’s evolution with a camera, but my skin had captured mine with scars. Electrode burns. Tiny pockmarks from the picana. And the large angry line across my forearm.
She cried quietly as she pushed my shirt off my shoulders.
I had nothing to say as she traced my injuries and history. Pulling my shirt over my hands, she moaned under her breath as she noticed where my tattoo used to be.
She froze.
Her gaze shot to her own inked lion and siren before she dropped to her knees between my spread legs and pressed the most worshipping kiss on my scar.
I placed my right hand on her head and bowed over her.
Tears rolled from my own eyes as she came to terms with everything she saw.
I didn’t know if she’d have the strength to ask, but on a tattered breath, she whispered, “Why? Why take it from you?”
“Because he knew I used the memory of us to fight his control. Each time he’d ‘persuade’ me, I’d cling to my tattoo and return to you. I lasted almost three years before he understood my trick.”
Her fingernails dug into my arm. Her head shot up as her eyes blazed blue fire. “I’ll kill him. I’m going to fly to Turkey and kill him.”
I smiled softly. “You’re too late.”
