Chapter 14
14
ATLAS
I nstead of getting on top of her, I scooped her into my arms again.
She blinked up at me. “What?—?”
“We need a shower,” I said, my voice rough and low.
She didn’t argue.
The bathroom was warm, the air thick with steam by the time I set her down. The shower was one of those oversized ones made for luxury condos—stone tile walls, rainfall head, enough space to turn and move without ever feeling crowded.
Anna stepped under the stream first, tilting her face to the water, her eyes fluttering closed. Her hair darkened as it soaked, curling around her shoulders. I watched the water roll down her skin, gliding over her collarbones, slipping down her stomach. She was unreal.
Then she opened her eyes and caught me staring.
“You getting in or just watching?”
I stepped under the spray beside her, letting the heat work through my shoulders, washing away the sweat, the storm, the ache. For a moment, we didn’t speak. The water poured down in a steady rhythm, masking our breaths, softening the air around us.
She reached for the soap and lathered her hands. I followed suit, rubbing over my chest, my arms, my neck. Her gaze moved with my hands, slow and deliberate.
That’s when I asked.
“Do you trust me?”
Her hands paused. She looked up at me, water glistening across her cheeks.
“Yes,” she said simply. No hesitation.
“Good.”
Before she could ask why, I wrapped my arms around her waist and lifted her again—but this time, I didn’t stop there.
She gasped as I shifted her in my hold, her legs moving instinctively. I inverted her, careful and steady, one arm bracing her upper back, the other supporting her hips. Her thighs fell apart around my shoulders like they’d been waiting for this.
She laughed—breathless, wild. “Seriously?”
I didn’t answer.
I let my mouth answer for me.
My tongue found her again—sweet, slick, and so responsive it made my blood roar. She moaned, her hands gripping my hips for balance, her body folding around mine like we were made for this shape.
Then I felt her mouth on me.
God.
She took me slowly at first—tentative, teasing—then deeper. Stroking. Sucking. Fucking me with her mouth. The sensation punched through me, raw and electric. It was nothing to hold the weight of both our bodies. I could’ve stayed like that forever. Buried in her mouth, feasting between her thighs, every inch of me alive with sensation.
She moaned as I licked up from her clit to the soft, sensitive skin just above it, and the sound sent a tremor through my spine. I sucked gently, then again, circling my tongue, driving her higher. Up and down my tongue went now, missing no piece of her. We moved as one, like we’d done it for ages, like we hadn’t just come minutes before. Up and down. Up and down my tongue lapped as her mouth hummed over my cock, the movement gripping me from base to tip.
Her rhythm faltered as her hips bucked. She was close.
But I wasn’t done.
I shifted, flipped her upright in one fluid motion. She gasped, clinging to my shoulders, and I caught her gaze just long enough to see her eyes flash wide before I buried myself inside her again.
She cried out, her legs wrapping around my waist, her hands gripping my hair, my shoulders, whatever she could reach. I fucked her with everything I had—deep, powerful strokes.
I couldn’t hold back.
Neither could she.
She came again, gasping my name like a prayer, and I let go with her, groaning against her neck, lost in her heat, her strength, her surrender.
When it was over, I held her, both of us breathing hard, the shower washing everything but the memory of what we’d just done.
After a long moment, she laughed against my throat.
“What?” I asked, still catching my breath.
“If this whole mysterious-security-billionaire thing doesn’t work out, you could always join the circus.”
I blinked. “The circus?”
“Yeah,” she teased. “Strongman act. Lifting women while giving orgasms in the air. You’d sell tickets.”
I grunted. “They don’t do shower fucking at the circus.”
She tilted her head. “Shame. I’d probably buy a front row seat.”
I shook my head, smiling despite myself. Carefully, I set her down, letting her legs find solid ground again. We rinsed off in silence, the heat of our bodies still buzzing between us.
She was reaching for the shampoo when I felt it.
Not a sound.
Not a movement.
Just … a shift in the air.
My eyes flicked toward the fogged window.
At first, I thought I imagined it. The glass was blurred with steam. But behind it—beyond it—something moved.
A figure.
Watching.
Eyes locked on us.
Every cell in my body went cold.
“Get back,” I said sharply, stepping in front of Anna.
“What—?”
But I was already moving.
I didn’t stop to dry off. I grabbed my jeans from the floor, yanked them up without underwear. I was out the door and into the rain within seconds.
The storm had returned in full. Rain fell in sheets. The streetlights were hazy through the downpour.
And there, perched on the ledge across from the condo, was the fucker.
Eugene.
Soaked. Scowling. Watching.
The second he saw me, he moved. Slipped down the ledge and took off into the night like a rat flushed from his hole.
I could’ve chased him.
I wanted to.
Every instinct in me screamed to hunt. To break something.
But I didn’t.
I stood there in the rain, heart pounding, fists clenched.
He was testing me.
Pushing to see how far he could go.
This wasn’t just jealousy. It was something darker.
And now he’d crossed a line.
I stayed there another beat, rain running down my face, seeping into my bones.
Then I turned and walked back toward the condo.
Inside, Anna was waiting. A towel wrapped around her, worry in her eyes.
“Who was it?” she asked.
I hesitated.
It would be easier not to tell her.
But I’d made a promise to myself.
No lies.
Not with her.
“Eugene,” I said.
Her face paled. “What? What was he doing?”
“Watching.”
Her jaw clenched. “How long?”
“I don’t know. But he’s gone now.”
She wrapped the towel tighter, her eyes hardening. “That’s not okay.”
“No,” I agreed. “It’s not.”
A long silence stretched between us. The water still dripped from our bodies, the echo of what we’d shared moments ago now tinted with the knowledge that someone had been watching.
I moved toward her slowly, brushed a strand of hair from her face.
“I’ll take care of it,” I said quietly.
She didn’t ask what that meant.
She just nodded.
And for the first time in years, I didn’t feel alone in the fight.