Chapter thirty-nine
Rylee
Let me take care of you.
“L et me take care of you.” His lips brush against my ear.
“You want to take care of me?” I tilt my head, searching his face.
“Yeah, if you let me.”
“You mean like sex?” I try to smirk, to lighten the moment, but my pulse betrays me, hammering in my throat. “As good as it was, I think I’m still a little sore.”
“No, bebe, that can wait.” He shakes his head. “I mean really take care of you.”
“Oh.” My lips purse as something heavy presses against my chest. His gaze is steady, like he’s waiting for me to let him in, to trust him.
His hands curve around my thighs, holding me as he pushes off the floor. A small gasp escapes me, and I cling to his shoulders, my fingers pressing into his skin.
He sets me down on the edge of the sink, his arms lingering on my waist for a beat longer than necessary.
“Wait here,” he says before stepping away.
He walks to the tub and turns on the faucet. The sound of running water filling the space. My eyes trail over his broad shoulders and the lean lines of his back. The muscles shift beneath his skin as he leans over to test the water temperature.
He pours in the vanilla bath soap, my favorite, and the air shifts as the scent rises. Then he reaches for a lighter and lights a few candles. His brow furrows as he stares at the lighter in his hand, and I wonder if he’s thinking about me using that lighter for something else.
A knock at the door pulls him away. He opens it, and a beautiful young woman stands there with a tray of food and fresh flowers. Her eyes trail over him, lingering a little too long on his boxers for my liking.
Luc takes the tray without looking at her again and places it by the tub.
“Let me know if you need anything else,” she says.
Aren’t you a sweetheart? I fight the urge to roll my eyes.
“We’re good, thanks,” I cut in, narrowing my eyes at her.
Her smile disappears before she nods and leaves, closing the door behind her.
Luc turns to me, his lips curving into a knowing smirk as he takes a step closer. His body radiates heat as he moves between my legs.
“What?” I fold my arms.
“Is my wife jealous?” His grin widens as his hands reach for the knot of my robe.
“I’m not jealous.” The words come out too fast, too defensive, as I avoid his gaze.
The robe falls open as he unties it, his fingers skimming my skin. He helps me off the sink, his eyes trailing over me. My pulse quickens under his gaze.
I step into the tub, the warm water enveloping me immediately. My body relaxes despite my attempts to stay guarded.
Luc slips out of his boxers, and his beautiful cock springs free, thick, long, and perfect. My mouth goes dry, and I try to swallow. Heat rises to my cheeks as I focus on the ripples in the water.
He settles in behind me, his legs framing mine. His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me against him. The solid press of his chest against my back sends a strange comfort through me.
He pulls the tray closer to us. The meal is simple, boiled eggs, fruits, toast, and cafecito con leche, but the gesture makes my chest tighten.
“You don’t have to talk about it now.” He presses a soft kiss to my hair. “But whenever you’re ready, I’m here.”
No one’s ever done this for me. Not my mother, not the men I hooked up with. Not anyone.
A lump forms in my throat, and I stare at the water. My fingers tighten on the edge of the tub as a memory tries to surface, one I don’t want to feel.
I let out a slow, shaky breath, my shoulders slumping as I lean back against him. His arms tighten around me, steadying me. The ache in my chest spreads, but I blink back the tears threatening to fall. For the first time, I let someone else take care of me.
And it terrifies me.
“I know a lot about wanting the noise to stop,” he begins, breaking through the chaos in my head. “Growing up, I always felt like my brain was going a hundred miles an hour while the rest of the world moved in slow motion. I couldn’t sit still, couldn’t focus. I’d forget things, miss deadlines, piss people off. Teachers said I was lazy. My dad thought I was being difficult. And I…”
I turn fully toward him in the water, needing to see his face.
He’s staring into the distance. “I thought I was broken.”
I know what it’s like to feel broken.
“The noise in my head? The chaos? It never stopped. It was like a storm I couldn’t escape. So I found ways to drown it out.” His throat bobs with a hard swallow.
My hand moves instinctively, tracing soft, lazy lines over his chest, grounding him as much as myself. His gaze meets mine, wide open and vulnerable.
“I started picking fights at school, in the streets—anywhere I could. It wasn’t about winning. Half the time, I didn’t care if I got my ass kicked. I just needed the rush, the adrenaline. It helped quiet the storms even just for a few minutes.”
He exhales sharply, his jaw clenching as if the memory still stings. “But it never lasted. The bruises healed, the cuts faded, and I was still the same mess inside. So I kept going—pushing harder, risking more. My dad called me reckless. Said I was wasting my life away.”
His shoulders stiffen before he forces them to relax, like he’s letting go of a piece of the past.
“After I got kicked out of school for causing too much trouble, my father sent me to a boarding school in London. That’s when I found out I had ADHD.” His lips pull into a faint, bittersweet smile. “I wasn’t broken. My brain just works differently. So I learned how to work with it, how to manage it.”
The stress ball, the constant movement of his fingers, his routine. They all make sense now.
He reaches for my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “I don’t know what makes you feel so out of control, or what noises you’re trying to quiet, but I get it. Hurting yourself? It feels like control, doesn’t it? Like the pain is the only thing that makes sense when everything else is spinning.”
An unwelcome lump rises in my throat. I don’t want him to see me like this, but I can’t look away
“But it doesn’t fix it, does it? It just leaves you with more scars to hide.” He leans in, pressing his forehead gently to mine, his breath warm against my skin. “I know what it’s like to feel like no one understands. To think you’re alone in it. But you’re not. I see you, Rylee. And I’m not going anywhere.”
His words press against the walls I’ve built, threatening to break them down. But I can’t lean into him. Not fully. Not when I know he’ll leave eventually. One year. That’s all I have.
My chest aches, but I lean into him anyway, resting my forehead in the crook of his neck. He pulls me closer, holding me together when I don’t feel whole.
“Thank you for telling me,” I whisper, closing my eyes. I don’t how long we stay like that. I wait for the water to turn cold, but it’s still warm.
“Luc?”
“Yeah?”
“Why’s the water still warm?”
He chuckles, his hands stroking my back. “There’s a heater in the tub.”
“Of course, there is.”
His laugh spills out fully now, vibrating through his chest and into mine as it quiets the storm inside me.