Chapter 74
NOW
Bennett
Her permission rolls over me like a calm, lapping wave on a dry beach.
A groan works from my throat and I bury my fingers in Paloma’s wet hair, pressing my mouth to her neck as I trip forward. My hands cup the back of her skull carefully to keep her from bashing it with the intensity of the kiss as I press her into the tile.
It’s her in the water.
It’s her here in my arms. Moving like I’ve watched her body move for more than three years. My fingers drag across her skin almost desperately. There is no exchange of power, no tip of my control; just her moving against me.
Bite down on my shoulder again and let me show you.
Like poetry in motion. Like water against skin—I tongue along her collarbone to taste her sharper edges, harder to find with the curve and softness of her skin.
The water is warm enough to give her skin the peachy flush that drives me wild, to the point that I feel like I’ll break without being inside of her.
“Let me inside you,” I beg into her ear, biting down on her shoulder. She nods, head tipping back, one of her thighs tightening where she’s almost climbed my body.
I take myself in hand—one hard tug—before slipping against her wet skin, into the warmth of her pussy. I’m tall, but my thighs are arguably my strongest attribute, so it’s not hard to bend at the knee and rest her body against them, hoisting her up off the tile floor slightly.
It makes her entire body arch, fingers scoring into my skin with light scratches.
“Too much, love?” I breathe with a grin into her ear.
“I can take it,” she whispers.
A soft kiss to her temple—so at odds with the roaring energy in my body. “I know you can. You always take it so good for me.”
Another wild noise bursts from her lips as my hands dip to her hips, positioning her back against the wall so I can fuck with more power, more intensity.
Her hips move, swiveling, before rocking back and forth—enough that I pause fully seated inside her, allowing her to take from me what she so desperately wants.
She grinds against me like I know she loves, the same way she always comes hard across my thigh muscles.
Only now I can feel her as the spasms start—the inside of her gripping me.
The tightness of her is like a punch to the gut.
She’s so beautiful when she’s put together.
But here, beneath the water, droplets tracing paths across her skin, brown eyes with pupils blown wide framed by damp sticking lashes—she’s otherworldly.
Her skin is flushed all the way to her goddamn toes, fingers tight against the soft muscles of my arms, waist suspended in my hands, lips bitten as she comes long and hard just for me.
A goddess. A siren.
The fucking ocean herself personified and somehow in my hands.
“Let me come inside you,” I breathe, because I need it. “Tell me I can. Tell me it’s safe.” Another near growl as I thrust into her harder. “If you don’t want me to come inside you, P, you need to say it now.”
“I want it,” she begs. “Please—please—”
My vision nearly blacks out, eyes rolling back as I come. My thrusts grow slower, until I refuse to leave her entirely, pulling her to my body tighter, needing every piece of her skin to touch mine—like that will satisfy my need to keep her close.
And then—
My stomach drops. Guilt rages as I place a flushed Paloma back on her feet.
“I’m . . . did I . . . ?”
The words won’t come. But I don’t need them anyway.
“Everything is perfect,” she says, hands cupping my face to angle it down toward hers. “That was fucking incredible.”
She steps forward and something leaks from between her legs, making my cock pulse. I want to ask her to open her legs for me to see between them—to see the evidence of how deeply and thoroughly I’ve claimed her as mine.
My cheeks flush with embarrassment at my own thoughts. I shake my head as I lean down to kiss her everywhere.
“I love you,” I whisper. “You’re so perfect for me.”
My praise continues as I wash her body, though she doesn’t let me wash her hair again—“That many times will ruin it”—but I bask in the care of her just the same.
Later that night, we order food at my insistence, though I can see both Paloma and my father give me a look like I’ve grown three heads when I ask.
I shrug it off and indulge in the Thai food Paloma chose, paying special attention when she says which dish is her favorite so I can learn to cook it for her.
We take it easy, watching movies in the family room. Alessia stays until it’s late, and I hear my dad offer for her to stay another night, but she hugs Paloma and leaves after reassurance from my girlfriend.
I excuse myself to call Rhys and check on him and Sadie, though they seem more concerned about Paloma.
He lets the entire thing go when I say, “It’s complicated.” Maybe he understands because of his own situation with Sadie and her family that this story can’t be mine to share. It will always be Paloma’s.
“Your mother called again,” my dad tells me in passing. “I know she’s tried calling you, too. How do you want me to handle it?”
“Does she know?”
He shakes his head.
“Maybe you could tell her. I think she should know. And I . . .” My voice trails off. I don’t think I can tell her everything without raging over Ethan again. I’ve avoided the monster in my mind that wants to hunt him down and kill him for what he’s done. I have to trust my dad.
He nods and squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll take care of it. Everything will be okay.”
I repeat it like a mantra—as if it will make the swirling anxious thoughts that haven’t quieted go away.
Everything will be okay.
You didn’t notice three years ago. You didn’t notice her pain once in the last three years.
Everything will be okay.
You let her down. You let her hurt. Just like Rhys. Just like your father. Just like—
Everything will be okay.
Nothing will ever be okay again. You did your routines and followed your rules and it still wasn’t enough. You’re the broken one who is damaging everything and everyone in his path.
Everything will—
You know what you’ve done. You let them down. You always let them down.
I don’t remember how I got to bed or what I did for the hour before, but I fall asleep with Paloma curled into my side and Seven in the crook of her bent legs, his head resting up on her thigh.
And the thoughts never leave me.