Chapter 4
TAMAYO
Ishrug off my jacket at the same moment Zarina reaches for the buttons of my shirt.
Soft and quiet, she undoes my belt, pulls my shirt out from my waistband, helps my sleeves fall down my arms. My eyes trace over each inch of her skin, searching for signs of hesitation or pain.
The marks on her neck and jaw from Marcus’s hands are darkening with bruises, and the sight ignites frigid anger.
But I hold it inside. Those feelings are for later, when Zarina’s not half-naked in front of me.
When she’s not asking me to stay.
We stand in our underwear, neither fully naked.
And on the outside, it might not seem different than when we fucked, but this isn’t a mad dash of desperation or barely disguised sexual tension.
We aren’t fumbling into bed with hardly a thought for anything but pleasure.
We’re not simply seeing each other naked—we’re about to see each other bare.
This is slow, steady reality and all the vulnerability that goes with it.
Zarina reaches around her back, unhooking her bra and letting it fall to the pile of clothes around us.
I do the same. Together, we pull down our underwear and step out of them.
Without a word, I open the shower door and offer a hand to steady Zarina as she steps over the threshold and under the rainfall spray. I follow after her.
I try not to think about it as I squeeze shampoo into my palm and ask Zarina if I can touch her, but it’s glaring at me with every drop that wets my skin: I’ve never been this bare with a woman.
Not one partner, long term or casual, has set foot in my bedroom, and I have certainly never been intimate on a level as deep as this.
Because whether we say it out loud or not, Zarina is asking for help.
She needs me in a way that I’ve never shown up for anyone other than my chosen family, and here I am. Showing up.
If I think about it too hard, I have to consider what it means.
Whether I can come back from this and continue on the path I set for myself.
The one that ends with the Gallo family laid to ruin like I was in that alleyway a decade ago.
Can I bare myself to Zarina, let her bare herself to me, and still do that?
And what about Zarina and her goal that directly hinders my own?
I don’t know.
And right now, I can’t consider it. Because Marcus could have won tonight.
I almost arrived a moment too late, almost let the fear paralyze me as I watched his hands tighten around Zarina’s throat.
I almost lost the chance to be here, scratching her scalp and trying to ease the stress from her body with each press of my fingers and hoping it helps.
God, I hope it helps.
I keep asking Zarina if I can touch her before each task, trying my hardest to give her a semblance of power after it was so rudely taken.
And each time, she answers, “Yes, please.” I massage soap into her skin, focusing on the knots in her shoulders, in her neck, down her back.
I want to put her to bed, dig my knuckles into the pads of her feet and take on the weight of all that’s crushing her.
I want to brush her hair free of tangles.
I want to cradle her between my arms and keep her safe from anyone laying a harmful hand on her ever again.
Fuck, I want her.
Zarina turns, and my hands fall to my sides as her own rise to rest on my shoulders. She nudges me around and under the spray to perform the same ablutions on me, as if I’m the one who was traumatized and in need of comfort.
I try to capture her wrist. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” she says.
So I let her.
And I try not to bask, but it’s difficult with her capable fingers pressing into my muscles, scratching over my scalp.
I have to ball my fists to keep from turning around to touch her.
I’m doing okay (barely holding myself back), when her touch trails down my arms to my waist and slips around me.
Her breasts press up against my back, her forehead between my shoulder blades.
“Relax,” she says into my skin. I can feel each twitch of her lips. “You’re so tense.”
I stretch out my fingers. “Sorry.”
“What did I say before?”
A half-smile slips over my lips. Stop apologizing for things you’re not accountable for. I pull in a breath, relax my shoulders, and bring my hands up to wrap around hers at my waist. “Better?”
She hums in affirmation. I expect her to pull back and finish, but she stays like that, arms wrapped around my middle and forehead resting against my back, for a few minutes.
We stand, both under the spray, and take comfort in the other.
I try not to tense up again in anticipation of the end of the moment.
When she finally lifts her head, I look over my shoulder, brow raised in question.
“Kiss me?” she requests, face hopeful.
I frown. “Are you su—”
“Tamayo, god damn it.” She rolls her eyes with a huff, arms about to fall from my waist. “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t sure, so either kiss me or—”
I duck down and capture her mouth before she can finish her sentence.
The kiss is soft, lips pressing together for the space of two heartbeats.
I don’t want to push, want to let Zarina set the pace.
And she does. She turns me in her grasp, digging her nails into my ribs and pulling me closer for another kiss, hungrier than the first. I find her hips and rest my hands there, not wanting to grip and grapple like I normally might.
And then Zarina’s hands travel down my back and tease the top of my ass.
I break the kiss, resting my forehead against Zarina’s and breathing heavy. “Careful, princess.”
“Why?” She bites her bottom lip.
I nudge my nose against hers. “You keep it up and I’ll think you want more than a kiss.”
Zarina cocks her head, lets her touch slip lower to grasp a handful of cheek. “That’s exactly what I want.”
I cup her face between my hands. We are bare, and I can’t fuck this up. “You were almost kidnapped.”
“And forcibly married,” she adds.
I swipe a thumb across her cheekbone. “Don’t you want to sleep?”
“I want to release this adrenaline and tension.” Her hands leave my back to grip my wrists, like she’s begging. “I want to feel safe.”
I can’t help but furrow my brow, bewildered. “I make you feel safe?”
She wrinkles her nose. “Don’t be cheesy.”
Warmth floods my chest and tries to leak out of me into a fond smile, but I tamp it down. Because she didn’t deny it. The warmth spreads to my cheeks, instead, and even if I’m not smiling, I might be glowing. “What exactly do you want, princess?”
Zarina bites her lip, thinking. “I want soft. Wanna feel precious.”
I hum and press a kiss to her forehead. “You are precious.”
She breathes through her nose, eyes closed, as if she’s pulling the words inside herself. “Show me.”
I reach past her to switch off the water.
“Don’t move.” Quickly, I hop out of the shower and snag a towel out of the warmer, wrapping Zarina in it.
Only then do I grab one for myself, scrubbing my hair with it quickly before I tie it around my waist. In the small closet, I yank a fluffy robe off its hanger.
I hold it open for her. “Princess wants to be treated like a princess, hm?”
Zarina looks from the robe to me, a small smile flickering over her lips. “That’s right.”
“Come on, then.” I shake the robe a little, and she smiles fully.
She drops her towel to the floor and threads her arms into the sleeves, turning on her heel as I settle it over her shoulders.
Mine drag down her arms, my bare chest brushing the soft fabric over her back, and I slip my hands around her waist to tie the belt closed.
Zarina sighs, her body drooping, and all the things I want come rushing back.
I walk her over to the vanity, my chest to her back, and press a kiss to her hair before leaving her for a moment to grab the things I’ll need—a hairbrush, my jade roller, and a handful of serums and moisturizers. When everything’s on the counter, Zarina picks up a few of the bottles to read them.
She chuckles, the sound vibrating in her chest. “No wonder your skin glows.”
I shoot her a roguish grin through the mirror. “It can’t be my good, Filipina genes?”
The laugh fully escapes her chest. “I’m sure they help.”
“Can I brush your hair?” I ask. She nods, and I pull it out from under her collar and let it fall down her back, starting from the ends.
Zarina’s quiet, her eyes closed again, body relaxed, and I can’t help but marvel at the contrast between her now and her before.
Even after the Council meeting, when she asked for comfort after Marcus’s first assault, there was a wall.
And every moment since then has felt the same.
We’ve been intimate, but haven’t had intimacy.
And now, though it may not be a full dismantling of her defenses, she’s asked me to take care of her. One of the few people who makes her feel safe, who allows her to be soft and sweet without finding her weak. And this time, I don’t need to tear down each wall by force before she submits.
I weave her hair into a loose braid, trying to keep it out of the way more than anything.
Zarina hums with her eyes still closed, her mouth shaped into a soft smile of content.
I have to steal a bracing breath lest my heart skip too many beats at the sight.
Gently, I turn her around to face me and lift her onto the counter.
She releases a small gasp, and I linger for a too-long second before brushing a straggling hair off her face and reaching for the skincare and jade roller.