Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Henry
Sex was the last thing either of us needed right now.
Or maybe it was the only thing standing between Ariana and a complete breakdown.
From the first time I’d spoken to her, she’d been pure and good and light. She’d endured hell and somehow remained true.
And because of me, she’d been forced to do something no one should have to.
I knew better than anyone how taking another life changed you. How it crept into your dreams and tortured you. How it left something in your soul that could never be erased.
I refused to let her bear that burden. I’d do everything in my power to carry it for her. To make sure it didn’t extinguish her fire. Her light. Her spark.
Tearing my lips from hers, I turned off the water and lifted her in my arms, her skin slick as I carried her into the bedroom. Water dripped from us onto the floor, but that didn’t matter. All that did was giving Ariana what she needed.
And right now, she needed me.
I set her on her feet beside the bed, water falling in rivulets off her body. I smoothed her hair away from her face and stared into her blue eyes. They seemed empty. Vacant. Haunted.
And it was all my fault.
Without taking my eyes off her, I managed to shove my wet jeans down my legs before ripping my t-shirt over my head, tossing it onto the floor with a thump. Normally, whenever I stripped in front of her, she greedily drank in the sight of me.
Not tonight.
Tonight, she looked like she was seconds away from breaking and I was the only thing that might hold her together.
Wrapping an arm around her waist, I pulled her against me, flesh against flesh. Then I crushed my mouth against hers. There was nothing soft or delicate about this kiss. It was raw and frenzied. Not because of some innate hunger that had been building inside us for too long.
But because of a desperate need to feel anything other than what she felt right now.
Hell, probably what she’d felt for the past decade.
I threaded my fingers into her hair, my grip on her head bordering on harsh. But it only made her kiss me harder, our tongues tangling, teeth clashing. She dug her nails into my back, her mouth moving against mine like she was trying to crawl inside me and steal my breath.
And I let her.
Let her push.
Let her take.
Let her shatter.
With my hand on her hip, I steered her toward the bed, our mouths never breaking as I lowered her onto the mattress and settled between her legs.
But this wasn’t about me. Not tonight. This was about her. Letting her take what she needed. Giving her some semblance of control in a world where she’d rarely had any.
I looped an arm around her waist and rolled onto my back, bringing her on top of me. She inhaled a sharp breath, pulling her lips from mine and flinging her gaze to mine.
“Take what you need,” I told her, answering the question written on her face. “You’re in control tonight. I’m yours.”
“Mine,” she repeated, as if the mere idea was completely foreign to her.
“Yours.” I dug my fingers through her hair as I slowly pulsed against her.
The feel of her heat against my erection drove me fucking crazy with the need to slam into her. But this wasn’t about what I needed. It was about what she needed.
As much as I typically loathed not being in control, I didn’t hate this. In fact, the idea of being able to give this to her, to give her some semblance of control when she’d held so little for so long turned me on more than I thought possible.
“That’s it, baby. Use me. Grind yourself all over me. Make yourself feel good.”
Her only response was a moan as she moved faster and faster against me, her mouth less than a breath from mine, lips still parted as she chased her pleasure.
Within seconds, I felt her body tense, her breaths growing shallow.
“Let go, baby. I know you want to. Know you’re close. So rub that cunt over me and get yourself off.”
I expected her to do just that.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she straightened, her motions stilling as her heavy pants echoed in the room.
She didn’t move for several protracted moments.
Just stared at me as she tried to catch her breath.
I wondered if this was her way of punishing herself for what she’d done.
If she was intentionally depriving herself of her release as retribution.
I didn’t want her to do that. Didn’t want her to think she deserved that.
“It’s okay, Ariana,” I said, bringing my hand to her face and cradling her cheek. “Don’t punish yourself. Let yourself feel good. Let yourself feel me.”
I moved a hand to her hip, and slowly moved her against me. Her eyes fluttered into the back of her head as a tiny whimper escaped her lips. I could physically feel her torment. How she wanted to feel something good but didn’t think she deserved it.
“Feel me, baby. I know you want to. Take what you want. What you need.”
She opened her eyes. This time, they weren’t vacant like they were minutes ago. Instead, there was a spark of something. It wasn’t the same vitality and life I’d grown accustomed to. But there was a small flame.
After tonight, I’d take it.
Still not saying a single word, she raised herself slightly as she wrapped her hand around my erection. Then she lowered herself onto me. I had to fight the urge to moan as she enveloped me, inch by incredible inch.
She moved slowly at first. Testing. Reclaiming. I let her take control. Let her set the pace. There was something almost sacred about the way she moved. Something defiant.
Victor had used her body and tried to convince her it belonged to him.
And as she moved against me, I felt her take it back, reclaim it as her own. Reclaim everything he’d stolen from her. Her autonomy. Her independence. Her self-worth.
This wasn’t just about the misplaced blame for taking his life.
This was about everything she’d endured. The abuse. The mind games. The isolation.
She’d never allowed herself to fully come to terms with any of it. Never allowed herself to truly feel. But now she was free and everything she’d been forced to suppress was finally bubbling to the surface.
“That’s right, baby,” I said as she pressed her hands against my chest, using me to steady herself. “Take what you want.”
She closed her eyes, her motions growing urgent, her lower lip quivering as she fought to keep everything locked inside once more. But if she did that, it would only continue to fester. I knew from experience. After I’d killed my father, I went through the same thing.
For years, I’d been forced to keep my emotions hidden for fear he’d use them against me. When I’d finally done what I’d only imagined, I didn’t know how to let myself feel anymore.
In a way, I still didn’t.
“Don’t hold it in. Let it out. Let me feel what you feel. Your hurt. Your anger. Your pain. You don’t have to pretend anymore. Don’t have to be scared to feel anymore.”
She squeezed her eyes closed, vehemently shaking her head. But I wasn’t going to let her hold it in. Wasn’t going to let her become this uncaring, unfeeling ghost of the woman she once was.
Wasn’t going to let her become like me.
I slid my hand between us and pressed my thumb to her clit, gently rubbing her.
She fought it at first, her face squeezing tight as she formed her lips into a tight line. So I rubbed even faster, meeting her thrusts.
Finally, a soft moan broke free and her eyes snapped open, determination within. She dug her nails into my chest as she moved against me with more urgency.
“That’s it, baby. Give me your pain. Let me feel it.”
She increased her motions at the same time as her nails dug in even deeper, drawing blood. But I didn’t care. I welcomed the pain. Needed the pain.
“Give me your hurt and regret and blame. Let me feel it all. Make me hurt. Make me bleed. Don’t hold it in.”
She’d done that for years. Held it in. Swallowed it. Survived it.
But surviving wasn’t the same as healing.
And she needed to start healing.
“It’s okay to let yourself break, Ariana. To let yourself feel. You don’t have to stay strong all the time. Not anymore. Not with me.”
Her movements turned almost frantic. Like she was trying to outrun something that continued to gain on her. That was probably what it felt like to be married to Victor. Always having to be on your toes. Always trying to stay two steps ahead of him.
And always being dragged down with him.
“Let go, Ariana,” I grunted, struggling to hold on when all I wanted to do was lose myself in her. “I promise I’ll be there to catch you.”
At that, her entire body trembled, her release overtaking her, wave after wave of bliss consuming her. I clutched her hips, allowing myself to finally let go with a strangled roar.
But the feeling that flooded me wasn’t the typical bliss or satisfaction.
It was heavier.
Darker.
Like pleasure had fused with sorrow and refused to separate.
I pulled her lips to mine and captured her mouth, as if I could seal the cracks with my touch. With my love.
When she had nothing left, she sagged against me, burying her head in the crook of my neck. For several long moments, I simply held her, running my hand up and down her back.
Then a sob broke free, raw and tormented.
It was the sound of a woman who’d been holding herself together for far too long and had finally allowed herself to break. I tightened my arms around her, pressing my lips to her damp hair.
I didn’t try to soothe her with words. Words seemed meaningless right now anyway.
Her tears soaked into my skin, her fingers curling into me like she was afraid I’d disappear if she let go. But I didn’t let go. I held her through every cry. Every shudder. Every jagged breath.
I comforted her with my body. With my warmth. With my love.
Right now, it was all I had.
I just hoped it was enough.