Because…
You didn’t ask me to come in. I don’t want to intrude.
Because I know what this is.
And I’m not her.
He stares at me through the mirror as he turns on the water and fills up a glass.
Without letting myself think, I walk over and press my forehead to his back, close my eyes, and wrap my arms around his waist.
He stills, letting me.
I don’t know why I do it, but the feel of him—of someone warm and strong—in my arms makes this weird feeling swell in my chest, and I lay my cheek against his spine, hearing his heart beat.
It feels good to feel this. To be touched. To ask for what I need even if he wants me to leave. Just for a minute.
Finally, I sigh and pull away, but he catches my arms around his stomach before I escape and tugs me back into place.
“Stay.”
My chin trembles, my heart races, and tears fill my eyes.
I dip my head back into his back and try not to cry.
He’s not my parents.
He’s not my parents.
He wants me around.
It’s okay.
I draw in a deep breath and release it slowly. It’s okay.
He stands there silently, thankfully not asking any fucking questions about why I’m almost crying again as I hug him. He just holds my arms in front of him, hanging onto me in a way.
“Are you thinking about her?” I ask.
But he remains silent as he dumps out his water and sets the glass down.
“It’s okay if you are.”
“I’ve never really talked about her,” he says in almost a whisper, “to anyone but you.”
I snake my hand back around his waist, breathing in the smell of his skin. “What did she do that you liked?” I say.
He inhales a deep breath and takes my hand, leading me over to the shower.
“Her hands in my hair,” he replies, turning on the shower.
He tests the water and then turns around, coming behind me and pulling out my rubber band, so he can tie my hair up higher into a bun on the top of my head.
I grin at the gesture. Was he like this with her? Probably more so. If he’s this sweet with me, what was he like with a woman he loved?
I feel his fingers under the hem of my shirt, and I stop him, turning around and shaking my head.
Holding his eyes, I peel back the curtain and step into the shower, letting the water soak me. His eyes fall down my body as the water trickles down my stomach and thighs, the white shirt and silk panties molding to my skin.
Just like she would’ve looked when they swam together.
I lean against the wall and watch as he pushes his pants down his legs, his cock already stiff.
God. Three times in the truck. Once in the bed. Apparently, I wasn’t too much for him to handle. Or vice versa.
He closes the curtain, darkness and steam filling the shower and our eyes still locked.
He presses into me, but I keep my hands at my side.
“And what did you do then?” I ask. “After she ran her hands through your hair?”
He lifts my leg, and I bite my lip as he pulls my wet panties to the side and pushes inside of me.
I dig my nails into his arms, the pain and sting from being entered once again mixing with the pleasure of being filled. His mouth hovers over mine, breathing through his teeth as he pumps his dick.
“Close your eyes,” I pant with his thrusting. “Make love to her.”
He shuts his eyes, and I circle my arms around his neck, hanging on as he lifts Flora into his arms and fucks her against the wall. I run my hand up the back of his head and over the top, threading my fingers through his hair, relishing the sweet ache deep inside.
I moan between our kisses, the water on his mouth warm and sweet. I close my eyes, too, letting him go back. Letting him sink into the fantasy, because I want him to remember how he loved her and know how lucky she was to have him. That it wasn’t his fault.
That my parents weren’t his fault.
He slides in and out of me, grunting as I tip my head back and letting his mouth trail down my neck as I thread my fingers through his hair once again.
“I love you,” he murmurs. “But Tiernan uses her nails, and I like that more.”
Butterflies rush through my stomach, and I tip my forehead to his, immediately curling my claws and dragging them lightly down the back of his head.
“Open your eyes, baby,” he tells me.
I do, seeing him looking straight at me as the steam billows around us.
“I could never pretend you weren’t you,” he says. “I don’t want to.”
I hold his eyes, our bodies moving faster as his fingers dig into my ass.