Chapter Thirty-Seven #2
I waited him out, though, my skin beading with sweat with every passing second, and eventually my patience paid off.
The moment the pressure on my wrists started to release, I continued working in the same slow, measured speed.
My hands lifted the damp weighted material up over his abs and chest, until I was forced onto my toes, my fingertips pushing the material up his stretched arms.
Even like that, my body was only inches from his and my eyes were level with his tensed jaw. I saw the twitch moments before his lips moved again. “Ayda, go.”
I shook my head, struggling for a moment to free him from the confines of his T-shirt, until he complied and allowed me to remove the thing.
I dropped it with an unintentional shudder, and the sound of the wet material landing on the floor seemed even louder than the hiss of the water hitting the glass, reminding me exactly why I was there.
No matter how formidable Drew was, I tried not to let my glance linger on the scars and tattoos that littered his exposed flesh.
I’d seen them all before. The man walked around topless more than some of the women, but there was something far more intimate in that moment between us that spoke to me.
It made it all seem more real than it had before.
Each scar was someone's attempt to kill him.
Each pale, ragged line was an attempt on the life he was now holding onto by the skin of his teeth.
My fingers shook as they gravitated to the one over his hip.
The skin was raised over an obvious rip in his flesh, and as I brushed it, the muscles in his abs tensed.
I couldn't tell if he was upset, or it was a natural reaction, so I dropped my hand to the buckle of his belt with a muttered apology.
I didn't have to look at Drew to know he was staring at me. I could feel his eyes as I tried to make my hands work the way I wanted them to. “Why are you here?” he whispered roughly, the warm air of his words falling against my head.
My fingers locked awkwardly at the button of his jeans, my chest aching with the breath I pulled in and held.
I didn’t know how to answer that and stay honest. I’d gone to The Hut for the sole purpose of shouting at him, to demand that he leave me, and by extension, Tate, alone, and there I was, undressing him to wash blood that wasn't his from his body.
Toeing off my shoes, I dropped my gaze to my feet, mostly to stay away from his eyes.
I was unsure if they were still going to be eerily vacant, or filled with that fire I caught there at times when he was looking at me.
His question held so much weight and it had so many vacillating arms that I couldn’t seem to sift through them all to get to a simple and straightforward answer.
I was looking too far into myself and what I was feeling, only to find the one thing I’d been working so hard to bury, not just from him, but from both of us.
I was there with him because I cared, and on further evaluation, I realized that I cared too much.
I wasn’t going anywhere. I couldn't. Not then, and maybe not ever.
“To help,” I said, simplifying it to the most basic level and forcing myself to unfasten his button, before lifting my eyes to meet his.
The sadness that lingered in the depths of them had my heart tightening in my chest. He was so lost and unsure of everything, and as his eyes searched mine, I knew that included me.
I could tell by the way he was unintentionally seeking to find the emotions I was feeling.
I didn't know what he was expecting to find.
Was it understanding? Pity? Or was he looking for the disgust he thought he'd earned for his behavior?
“I’m beyond help.”
“Bullshit, Drew. I won’t let you lose yourself to whatever this is,” I said, snapping out of the trance he'd held me in.
Taking a breath and getting back to my task, I pushed his jeans and boxers down his legs, keeping my eyes on his.
My hands worked diligently, letting gravity take over before lifting my hands and planting them on his ribs.
My body leaned against his, my whole weight pushing him to step out of his jeans and toward the shower.
I knew I'd done the right thing the moment he stepped in and closed his eyes. He was shutting himself off from me and the world, the faint trace of color in his cheeks being enough to take the edge off. I should have left him alone, but I needed so badly to see him, to be able to coax him back out from whatever box he’d locked himself inside of so thoroughly in his own head.
So I followed him in, my clothes immediately gaining ten pounds as they absorbed the shower’s spray and clung to my skin.
It hadn't been my intention to get in with him. I'd actually wanted to find a first aid kit. I'd wanted to take care of his raw, bloody knuckles, but I needed him as much as he seemed to need me.
As I stood watching him, water falling in rivulets from the tendrils of my hair, he pushed both of his hands up against the tile wall, dropping his head directly under the stream so it beat down on the crown of his hair.
Drew Tucker was one of the strongest men I’d ever met in my life, and even as I stood there like a drowned rat beside him, I could see that strength and power emanate from him, but he was tired.
Tired and worn down, to the point that the lost boy he’d been was slowly beginning to recede into the territory of being unrecoverable.
Trembling and terrified, I sucked in a breath and swallowed the water I inhaled with it.
My body, running solely on the fumes of sleepless nights and copious amounts of caffeine, swung under his arm, my back firmly planted against the wall so I was facing him.
He knew the moment I was there. His eyes had opened in a series of slow blinks, realizing how close I was.
He just stared at me for the longest time, as though I was the one that was standing there, broken and lost. Maybe I was.
Maybe I was on the same path as him. All I knew was that I hoped it led to the same place, because it was the thought of losing Drew completely that had taken me to this juncture.
“Ayda—”
I didn’t let him finish. My hands were on his cheeks, pulling him closer as I pushed up to my toes, my lips pressing firmly against his before the last syllable of my name had played out.
It was instinct that guided me into that kiss, but it was passion and desire that pushed me over the precipice.
I needed a reaction from him. I needed to feel him and know that no matter what happened, he would at least know that what I felt was honest and real.
It was when he started to return my kiss that I knew there was no turning back. I could have been under his flesh and it wouldn’t have been enough. He was coming back to life again under my touch as we grappled at one another with an eagerness I wasn't sure I was capable of describing.
I felt the buttons of my favorite shirt go first. They hit the glass in little pattering sounds before disappearing down the drain.
The two sides were pulled apart with all the eagerness of a wild animal, the back of his hand brushing against my tight nipple as though testing my body's reaction to him.
Goosebumps broke out across my chest, any thought of stopping thrown like caution to the wind. I already knew the answer.
I'd had no intention of ending anything and that was made all the more evident as my hands tangled with his to get rid of the last barriers between us.
My bra went one direction, my jeans and panties another.
His hand steadied me as I irrationally insisted my socks had to go, bringing the first ghost of a smile to his lips.
We were moving so fast, and as much as I wanted to explore his body, as much as I would have loved to memorize every inch of his well-built frame, I couldn’t tear my eyes from the indisputable hunger in his.
They were filled with fire, life and everything I’d needed to see the moment I entered that room and found him empty.
Our breaths were raw, loud and reverberating from the tile, blending with my quiet sighs and moans of pleasure to drown out the sound of everything else.
The sudden realization we were both naked seemed to give Drew pause.
His hand slid along the skin of my neck as the heel of his palm rested on my jaw.
He didn’t need to ask me if I was sure; he already knew from the pleading in my eyes and the nervous rise and fall of my chest. He drank me in like a man in the desert, rocking back on his heels for a second to inspect every inch of skin exposed to him.
I felt open and vulnerable, but beautiful, and coveted.
My little chirp of excitement at the tightness of my stomach pulled him closer before his other arm wrapped itself around my waist, hoisting me up onto his body.
My back came against the tile with such force, my breath burst from me in a long stream.
Needing more grip, my arm curled around his neck, and my thighs tightened around his waist in anticipation, holding me in place as we both seemed to gather our breath.
It felt like my heart had stopped beating in my chest with the way he looked at me.
I didn’t think I knew what it was to be wanted until that moment.
His eyes were the mossiest of greens and were filled with an emotion I’d never seen him wear before.
I knew the only thing in the world he wanted was to be inside of me.
I’d barely managed to scrape in a breath when I felt the nudge of him against my clit, my inhaled gasp accompanying the rock of his hips as he pushed into me.
As much as I was ready for him, I couldn’t have ever prepared myself for the emotional onslaught that followed as our bodies finally came together.
He froze the moment he sunk as far into me as he could, and the fingers of my free hand clawed at the tile, my other arm wrapped around his shoulders as I held onto him for dear life.
Every limb I possessed seemed to tremble with the raw power of him as he supported us both, his thighs and arms flexing beneath me.
Drew's quiet grunt of appreciation had my body tighten around his as my stuttered breaths encouraged his hips to swing back, and I couldn’t help the moan tangled with a sigh as he slammed back into me with intent.
We found our rhythm quickly, our bodies moving in perfect synchronization as the water beat down on us.
My cries of pleasure bounced from the tiles surrounding us, and my fingers tangled in his hair, while my feet pushed against his ass.
I needed him closer, deeper, and harder.
I needed all of him, everywhere, always.
My skin was so alive under his touches and kisses, and as our wants grew into needs, my body twisted and arched, accepting him so deep I felt like I would never forget the tangibility of it for the rest of my life.
Even supporting my weight between his body and the wall, he'd managed to get his hand in my hair, fisting tightly to direct my face to his.
The moment our eyes met, nothing else in the world existed but him.
As cliché as it sounded, he was the only thing in my universe.
He was all I could see, all I could feel.
The scent of him surrounded me and held me close.
Even the sound of my name on his lips held me enchanted.
My climax was almost painful as it clawed from the tensed ball of pleasure in the pit of my stomach and turned into fire spreading through my veins, curving my back and pulling his name from my lips.
He wasn’t far behind me. His hands were everywhere, the strength of his body with his final strokes encouraging my arms to fold around him and hold him close as the echoes of my orgasm mixed with his.
When he came, our bodies seemed to melt together in the exquisite rapture of the moment, and for one blissful breath, I found my happiness in the midst of his chaos.