Chapter 2
Two
Harper
How am I supposed to wash the blood away when the police are right outside? What if they bust into the bathroom and I’m naked?
I turn the bathroom fan on and the shower, but I don’t step under the spray.
Standing in front of the mirror, I run the sink, doing my best to wipe the remnants of crimson from my hands and fingernails.
My reflection is stark in contrast to how I usually look, the blood splattered on my clothes, staining everything.
There’s movement and noise. I no longer hear Zeke crying, which gives me a little relief.
He could have died today.
Guilt ebbs at me, the shock that I could have shot him.
But I didn’t.
I’d practically pressed the barrel to the intruder’s chest before pulling the trigger, to ensure my son wouldn’t get hurt.
However, the endless possibilities rattle through my brain. I shiver, the heat from the bathroom oppressive and fogging the mirror, but I feel ice cold.
There’s a firm knock on the door.
I don’t answer. Maybe whoever it is will just go away. I’m not exactly in the mood to deal with anyone.
Would the police even knock or just break down the door? Countless worries fleet through my mind.
“Harper, I’m coming in there.” Luca’s voice carries through the wood, and I hear the door and latch click.
Damn him for using the emergency key above the door.
He slips into the bathroom with Zeke curled up in his arms.
The grape popsicle coats to my little boy’s cheeks, lips, and shirt. It’s better than the smattering of speckled blood he wears on the sleeves of his pajama shirt.
“You were supposed to be in the shower,” Luca says, noticing that I’m standing by the sink.
“Are the police still here?” I glance past him, wanting to know if it’s safe.
If I’m safe.
Or if the men with badges and guns will drag me away in handcuffs.
“Ashton was speaking with them outside. You were supposed to be showering.” Luca stares at me, and when I don’t move, he steps past me and pulls back the shower curtain. He adjusts the temperature and then strips Zeke down, putting him in the shower to wash away the stains.
Zeke isn’t particularly fond of the shower, and he squirms and tries escaping, but Luca manages to get the boy clean while I stand there, observing.
“You’re next.” Luca glances back at me over his shoulder. “If I have to bathe you myself, I will.”
“Not until I know the police are gone,” I say.
His brow tightens as he looks back at me. “You’d rather them see you covered in blood?”
“I’d rather them not bust through the door while I’m naked.” I gape at him. “That would be embarrassing.”
Luca rolls his eyes, not the least bit amused by my antics.
“Ashton is done speaking with the police, but I can’t promise they won’t come back.
” He finishes with Zeke, wraps a fluffy towel around him and then leaves him seated on the closed toilet seat while he sneaks out of the bathroom to grab a fresh set of pajamas.
The chilly air seeps in from the hallway and Zeke stares up at me with swollen eyes from crying earlier. I kiss the top of his head, wishing I could tell him that everything will be fine.
I can’t even convince myself that it’s all right.
Luca slips back into the bathroom a moment later, carrying pajamas for Zeke. He gets my boy dressed and then covers Zeke’s eyes with a towel, pretending to play a game of hide and seek while he carries him out of the bathroom. “I’m putting him in our room tonight,” Luca says.
Wordlessly, I nod.
The window in Zeke’s room is broken, and after the break-in, I’m not comfortable leaving him alone.
“I’ll be right back,” Luca tells me and disappears from the bathroom.
Within a few short minutes, he returns with a change of clothes and two towels. “You left Zeke alone?” I’m not hearing any crying, but it’s only been a few seconds apart from my little one.
“Nova is watching him. It’s your turn to shower.” Luca hits the lock on the bathroom door and removes his shirt.
“What are you doing?” I ask, glancing at his chest.
“Distracting you.” Luca offers me a faint smile and then rests his hands on my hips. “Let me take your mind off it, please?”
I exhale.
Take my mind off the fact a man tried to abduct my son, threatened Nova and me at gunpoint. It’s hard to turn that off. My brain isn’t a television station that I can just flip the channel and watch something else, experience a different emotion.
Luca’s hands are soft and warm as the pads of his fingers lift my blood-soaked shirt up and over my head. I wince as the wet crimson grazes my cheek. It’s cold. I wipe my face, willing it away, my fingers clawing at the spot that must have smudged.
My back is to the mirror but I still feel as though I’m covered in blood, my cheek wet and cold, and it burns right through me.
I swipe at my skin, rubbing to remove it, glancing down at my hands, smeared in crimson.
I wipe them on my pants and run my hand against my cheek.
Luca grabs my arm, pulling it away. “Undress and get under the shower. I’ll clean you.”
It’s hard to meet his stare, to look at him while I strip down to nothing. I avoid his gaze, worried I’ll see pity or disappointment for what I did tonight.
I step under the heat of the spray and wince.
Luca is right there with me, naked, pulling me under the waterfall, his arms around my waist. I shut my eyes and let it cascade down my face in rivulets, praying it cleans all of me.
My hands move up to my face, scrubbing at my cheeks, my nose, my forehead, all of it.
His hands loosen from my hips, and he gently caresses the spot under my eyes, his finger soft, featherlight against the harsh scouring that I had been doing to get clean.
A heavy sigh escapes my lips, and I pull back from the spray, just enough to stare up at him. “How did you do it?”
“Do what?” he asks, guiding me back under the spray as he washes my hair for me. His fingers tease through my tresses and there’s a calmness he exudes that gives me strength to get through this ordeal.
“Live with the guilt,” I ask as he opens the bottle of shampoo and pours a dollop onto his palms, lathering it through my hair.
“You have no reason to feel guilty, Harper. You protected Zeke, Nova, and yourself.”
I still feel like a failure. “How long was he outside Zeke’s room?” I whisper. “I read my boy a bedtime story. I didn’t check outside his windows.”
“Why would you?” Luca asks. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened.” He rinses the shampoo from my hair and then lathers on conditioner. His touch is soothing, offering me comfort in this tempestuous storm.
He grabs a washcloth and the body wash and lathers my arms, legs, across my chest. His movements are methodical, determined to clean any lasting remnants of blood away from my skin.
He works all the way down to my fingers and then my nails, rubbing with the cloth to clean away all traces of evidence.
Washing it away makes me look guilty.
It makes me feel guilty, like I did something bad.
I stare off at the wall, my mind replaying the night’s events in my head on repeat.
Luca kisses my neck, his lips warm, and his arms wrap around me from behind when I realize I’m leaning into his body. His breath and kisses help ground me back to the present, as his fingers graze my hip with one hand and the other hand holds my jaw, tilting my neck higher.
My body melts into him, and his hand on my hip moves up to my breast, caressing my peak, his thumb grazing over my nipple.
I lean my head back on his shoulder, let my eyes glide shut, and his other hand moves from my jaw down across my stomach and between the juncture of my thighs.
A heavy sigh spills past my lips, and for a moment, the tension, the pain, the torment that rained down on me all but disappears.
The moment is short and fleeting, but it’s fueled only with desire, warmth, comfort.
I want more, crave the disconnect from reality, and want his body tangled with mine. “Luca,” I murmur, grinding back against him.
I spread my legs farther, and he teases my folds, his finger grazing around my clit but not quite touching it. He lets his finger caress over my labia, warming my body, making me claw at his arms, needing more.
My hips move in rhythm with his fingers, growing all the more restless with each passing second.
His touch soothes the storm inside of me, and Luca spins me around to face him. I whimper from the loss of contact, his fingers on my hips and no longer between my thighs.
He nips at my mouth, and I lean in, wanting a kiss, just as he pulls slightly back, a wicked smile playing on his lips.
“Luca?” I rasp, staring up at him with heavy-lidded eyes.
He commands my body, and within seconds, he has me pressed against the cold shower wall, my legs wrapped around him as he lifts me and steadies me, thrusting inside my warmth.
“Fuck,” I groan as he fills me. He’s not sweet and slow, but it’s as though he knows what I need.
My fingernails claw at his skin, holding him close, marking him, claiming him as he takes me.
With each thrust, I match his intensity, my hips meeting his, and the air is sucked from my lungs as I gasp for breath. The heat of the bathroom is stifling, but I don’t care. My head is in a fog.
The only thing that matters in this moment is Luca.
My pussy walls clench and squeeze onto his cock, keeping him tight, refusing to release my hold on his shaft as his hips move against mine, my back flush with the cold shower wall.
I shiver and Luca intensifies the pace. I tighten my grip, not wanting to fall, my insides shuddering as his breaths and groans against my ear make my toes curl.
His hands grip my thighs, determined and possessive; he knows exactly what I crave before I even realize what I need.