Her fingers trail over my chest again, water gliding down her wrist as she tilts her head up to meet my eyes. “You doing okay?” She whispers finally, barely audible over the spray.
I nod, and this time my voice works. “Yeah,” I say. “Now I am.”
She smiles softly and reaches up to brush a bead of water from my cheek; the touch lingers like she’s checking that I’m real. And for the first time in longer than I can remember, I let myself believe that maybe—just maybe—I am.
My hands move over her skin slowly, reverently, like I’m tracing something sacred that I never thought I’d get to touch again. The warmth of her, the soft rise and fall of her breathing beneath my palms—it all feels too good, too impossible. I take my time, memorizing every curve, every line, every shiver that ripples under my touch. I want to hold this moment, stretch it out forever, so that the world outside the shower—the war, the vengeance, the loss—none of it can reach us.
“This still doesn’t feel real,” I admit, my voice barely carrying over the rush of water against tile. My thumb traces slow, grounding circles at her hip, like I’m anchoring myself to the moment. “I can’t believe you’re here. Alive. That I get to touch you again.”
Her eyes lock onto mine—wide, bright, softened by the spray—and the look in them steals whatever breath I had left. My hands slide along her back, drawing her closer so her pebbled nipples press to my chest, until there’s no space left to doubt. She inhales sharply, and I feel it as much as hear it. “That I get to do this,” I murmur, forehead resting against hers. “That we get this. Together.”
Her mouth parts, but no words come. I lean down and press my lips to hers, soft and tentative at first—just a whisper of connection. The kiss lingers for a heartbeat, a tease of our tongues, before I pull back far enough to whisper against her mouth. “For us to kiss.” My hands tighten on her ass, grinding myself against her warmth, her pulse, her presence. “Ours to love.”
She exhales shakily, her breath mingling with mine. “Em,” she whispers, my name caught between a sigh and a plea, and the sound of it undoes me completely. “I love you.”
“Say it again,” I murmur, needing to hear it, needing it to be real.
Her lips curve against mine, faint but sure. “I love you.”
The sound of her voice hums through me like a pulse, steady and alive, and for the first time in years, something inside me settles. The air between us grows dense, the steam wrapping around ourbodies until the rest of the world fades into a soft blur. Each drop of water that slides down my skin feels charged, heavy with her warmth, her presence. Maybe this isn’t how it’s supposed to happen—no soft sheets, no carefully planned first touch—but somehow it feels right. Here, surrounded by heat and silence, with her pressed against me, it feels like the only place our story could begin again.
I find her lips again, lingering and warm, the kiss slow and grounding—deep enough to hush the world around us. The world falls away until there’s only the rhythm of her breathing and the soft press of her mouth against mine. My palms settle on the soft globes of her ass, gripping, before gliding upward, following the smooth curve of her back, tracing the path of water down her spine until I feel her tremble beneath my touch. I can’t stop myself from tracing every inch of her, my hands roaming with quiet reverence, needing the reassurance that she’s real—here, warm, and solid beneath my touch.
Her name leaves me in a whisper—“Berk”—half prayer, half vow, carrying every unspoken thing I’ve never been brave enough to say.
She breathes out my name, quiet but sure, and the sound tears through the walls I’ve built inside myself. It dredges up what I’ve kept buried—desire, guilt, and the ache of all the years we lost. My lips find the edge of her jaw, then the soft curve of her throat, tasting the heat of her skin mixed with the steam that clings to us. Her fingers tighten on my shoulders, nails biting just enough to anchor me, to remind me that this is real.
The water beats harder against us; the air turns heavy and hot. Every touch feels sharper; every breath shared between us is thick with passion. I lift her chin, my thumb brushing her damp lips, and meet her gaze. There’s no fear there, no trace of doubt—just quiet certainty, a kind of trust that steals the breath right out of me.
I find her mouth again, and this time the kiss sinks deeper—hungry and consuming, the kind that erases what came before. The past, the pain, the chaos—they all dissolve beneath the rush of her breath and the steady drum of water around us. My heartbeat pounds against hers, wild and uneven, and for a breathless stretch of time, it feels like we’re breaking apart just to fit back together.
“Fuck, Berk,” I breathe against her lips, the words rough and honest, before my mouth drifts to her neck, pressing slow kisses there, tasting steam and skin. “I love you,” I murmur softly. “And I’m not letting you out of my sight. Never again.”
Her reply isn’t words but a soft, trembling sound that spills between us as she arches closer, her body speaking the same truth I already know—we’re done running. Whatever comes next, we face it together.
My hand traces the curve of her back, her breath hitching when my fingers settle against her plump ass. An ass I’ve waited to fill my palm with for years. The small shift draws her closer, leg curling up along my waist, placing my hardness against her center. We both moan.Fuck, she’s soft.The sound that leaves both our throats isn’t a word—just the raw sound of wanting, of recognition.
“Em,” she whispers, her voice unsteady with want—part plea, part trust, all of it laid bare between us.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur, my voice rough with what I’m carrying—things too heavy to fully surface. Her eyes lift to mine—soft, searching, a little stunned by the weight of it. A faint smirk curves my mouth as my thumb traces the line of her jaw, slow and familiar, and I let my voice drop. “I’m still starving,” I admit, the words teasing on the surface, heavy with innuendo underneath.
The last trace of distance between us finally gives way as I sink to my knees, my hands gliding up her lush thighs and guiding her closer until she settles against me, steady and sure in my grasp. I lift her leg and rest it over my shoulder, holding her close, like I’m reclaiming every stolen moment we were forced to live without each other. The steam curls around us, heat and pulse blurring together until the edges disappear and I can’t tell where she ends and I begin. I don’t give her room to speak—not that she looks capable of it, eyes hazy, breath uneven. Instead, I move with a hunger that’s been building for years, drawn to her like I’m starving for this exact moment, and dive in.
Her head slips back against the wall with a soft thud at the first swipe of my tongue. The taste of her hits me—warm honey, intoxicating caramel—and a growl vibrates my chest with pleasure. Instinct takes over, every thought dissolves until there’s nothing but her moans filling the air and her fingers tangled in my hair, holding on like she never wants to let go. My tongue slips inside her as my nose rubs against her clit, wringing an orgasm from her quickly.
Her legs tremble as I continue feasting, slipping two fingers inside her and moving them in a slow, coaxing rhythm, holding herclose for balance. “Fuck, Berk. You taste so good.” My words push her over the edge again, quickly.
Her hand in my hair grows restless—pushing me away one second, pulling me back the next, torn between distance and surrender. “Em,” she breathes. “I don’t think I can…” Her head shakes in denial, but the sound she makes tells a different story, urging me closer even as her words are filled with denial.
“Yes, you can,” I say, low and unyielding. “I’ve got you. Give me one more.” My voice leaves no room for doubt as I hold her steady, guiding her back to the edge—and then pushing her cleanly over it, without mercy.
Her hand clamps over her mouth, smothering the sound as she fights to stay quiet, mindful of Kimber asleep in the next room. When the final tremor tears through her, her strength gives out, and she slumps back against the wall, boneless and undone. I linger a beat longer, pressing a slow, reverent kiss against her pussy before rising.
My face is slick with her juices, and when her eyes lift to mine, her pupils blow wide—hunger and disbelief colliding—and I hold her gaze, unflinching, letting her see exactly who just took her apart.
I lean in until my breath mixes with hers, my voice low and rough. “You ready for me, Berk?” I murmur against her lips before kissing her hard, tongues tangling in a messy, hungry rhythm. “Hold on to me, baby.” Her arms loop around my neck without hesitation, fingers sinking into my hair. “That’s it,” I whisper, sliding my handsdown to grip her ass, guiding her up as I lift her against me, our bodies meeting in one deep, desperate motion as I slam deep.
Instantly, her body tightens around me, pulling me deeper as another wave overtakes her. Her voice breaks through the steam, raw and breathless. “Yes, Em… please—fuck me. Hard. I need it. Please.” She wiggles as the words spill from her in a broken rush, desperate and aching.