Chapter 51 #2
We lie there for so long I’m nearly asleep when the mattress dips and someone lifts my sated body from the bed.
I snuggle against Col, wrapping my arms and legs around him as he walks us to the bathroom.
After he places me on the vanity, I patiently wait as he turns the shower on and checks the temperature of the water.
My gaze rakes over his naked form appreciatively.
His skin is bronzed from all the hours he spends working under the blazing sun, his muscles refined in a way that can only be achieved through manual labor.
He’s a work of art, and I’m incredibly aware of how lucky I am to call him mine.
Striding forward, Col steps between my thighs, his calloused palms brushing across my flesh and making me shiver.
I twine my arms around his neck, stroking my fingers through the strands of hair brushing his nape.
The two of us never say a word, not finding it necessary to fill the silence ensconcing us.
I give him a sleepy smile, then tilt forward to press my lips to his.
It’s a drugging, full-body experience, being kissed by Colsen Wilder, and this time’s no different.
Lifting me easily, he turns towards the shower, stepping directly under the spray without ever breaking contact.
My back meets the icy tiles as our kiss turns sweet and reverent.
I’m gasping for breath by the time Col places me on my feet, keeping me steady until my legs no longer feel like overcooked noodles.
Brushing aside the wet strands of my hair, Col renders me speechless with his next words.
“Some days, I still can’t believe you’re the same woman I waited on pins and needles to speak with every week, for seven excruciating months.
I never knew what condition you’d be in when I finally got to hear your voice again, both physically and emotionally, and it was a special kind of torture knowing you were so close, but completely out of reach.
You’ve grown so much since Raiden brought you home, and I know the life you now have isn’t what you envisioned for yourself, but I hope you’re happy, Sunshine.
I hope you’ll give the four of us a lifetime to ensure you never want for anything ever again.
” Col’s fingers are splayed on either side of my neck, his thumbs stroking the apples of my cheeks as I peer into his pale green eyes, filled with so much love and appreciation.
“You’re right; on the rare occasion I allowed myself to hope, this isn’t what I pictured. It’s so much better, Col. Far more than I ever dreamed possible. I can’t thank you enough for loving me,” I tell him, pressing my lips to the hollow of his throat.
“You never have to thank us for loving you,” he insists. “It’s the easiest thing in the world, Sunshine.” Before I have a chance to respond, a draft of cool air breezes across my damp flesh as Briggs steps inside the shower.
“Stop hoggin our girl,” he gripes, his chiseled front flush against my back. Col snorts, a fond smile gracing his lips before he drops a kiss to the top of my head.
“I’ll get the sheets changed while the two of you finish up,” Col states, pointing an accusing finger at Briggs. “Do not put your dick inside of her. She’s had enough for one night.”
“Fun police,” he grumbles, shooing Colsen out with a wave of his hand.
When it’s just the two of us, Briggs lathers my hair with shampoo, making my eyes close from how good it feels to be pampered.
He bathes every inch of me, cleaning up the mess they made when marking my body as theirs.
When he’s finished, I return the favor, standing on my tiptoes to reach the top of his head.
After I’ve given him the same care he gave to me, I kiss every tattooed slash etched into his flesh.
Briggs’ head hangs, rivulets of water dripping from the ends of his hair as he accepts the attention I’m giving his body.
“These marks,” he starts, needing to swallow past the lump in his throat as he struggles to voice his troubled thoughts.
“They’re a mirror image of what Elijah and Annie endured at the hands of the cartel.
I never wanted to forget what it cost them, and even though the image of their battered bodies will be ingrained in my mind for the rest of my life, I wanted a physical reminder that I was forced to look at every day, so there’d never come a time when I’d start to forget. ”
“You wanted to punish yourself,” I surmise, my voice barely above a whisper.
“They say time heals all wounds, but I didn’t want that.
I didn’t want the memories to fade and the guilt to become a little more bearable with every day that passed.
So I made sure that every time I looked in the mirror, I was a walking reminder of the evil we coexist with,” Briggs explains, a tremor wracking his body as I continue my perusal, stopping at the gaping hole in the side of his neck.
Glancing up, I meet his eyes, not needing to voice the question.
“They used a crudely made clamp to rip his throat open,” Briggs states, clenching his jaw to stem the barrage of emotions battering against his psyche. My eyes sting with tears, unable to comprehend the level of depravity a person would have to harbor to craft such a gruesome and painful ending.
“And what about you?” I hesitantly ask, causing his brows to knit with confusion.
“Your body tells a very graphic story of what happened to Elijah and Annie, but what happened to you, Briggs?” Although their methods were successful in making a permanent mark on his mind, I don’t for a second think he was forced to watch their torture without enduring any physical pain of his own.
Their mental warfare did exactly as they hoped it would, leaving him a fractured hull of who he once was, but something tells me that Briggs suffered just as profoundly in his own way.
He exhales raggedly before revealing, “They tied me to a concrete post, then repeatedly whipped the soles of my feet. I couldn’t stand, much less run, which they took great delight in.
So much so, they loosened my binds, knowing I was incapable of escaping.
It does something to a person, knowing that you can flee the people harming you, but you’re too weak to act on it.
After I dragged my battered body across the unforgiving sand in an attempt to treat Annie’s and Elijah’s wounds one evening, they took that freedom back rather quickly.
They bound my hands with thick nylon ropes, restricting my blood flow for hours at a time.
I’d lose feeling completely before they’d finally loosen them, but that was more painful than cutting off my circulation to begin with.
It felt like lava was coursing through my fingers.
“Wash, rinse, repeat. I came to appreciate the bouts of numbness, even knowing it was doing irreparable damage. Anything was better than the agony of blood rushing back to my extremities. After we were extracted and I made it back to the States, it was all but confirmed that sensation in my right hand would never fully return. I had no desire to continue practicing at that point, but not having full use of my dominant hand would’ve been catastrophic to my career.
It’s gotten better over the years, but I still can’t feel anything in my last two fingers. ”
I lift his right hand, kissing his ring finger first and then his pinky. I’ve hated every second of listening to him recount what he experienced at the hands of monsters, but I’m so grateful that he trusted me enough to speak about it.
“Thank you for telling me.”
“I’m sorry it took me so long.” Briggs smiles sadly, as if he’s ashamed that it’s taken him as long as it did to be vulnerable with me.
I shake my head, having firsthand knowledge that grief isn’t linear.
It doesn’t matter that he’s had two years to process the pain that was wrought upon him.
Even the smallest setback can be catastrophic, and Briggs’ past has constantly made a reappearance, though I doubt it ever left to begin with.
I feel certain that Colsen’s presence was a daily reminder, and undoubtedly, Briggs felt a need to atone for Elijah’s death.
And with Annie taking her own life, I can’t begin to fathom how painful and isolating it must’ve been to be the sole survivor of something so horrific.
It likely exacerbated his survivor’s guilt tremendously.
So Briggs apologizing for something he’s still grappling with isn’t warranted.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” I insist vehemently.
“The only reason I ever wanted to know about your past is to better help you, not for the sake of curiosity or feeling sorry for myself because I didn’t have your confidence.
I didn’t want to say something and unknowingly trigger a painful memory, or be the only one present when you need your medication and not having the faintest idea what to do.
“I can admit that it was frustrating at times to feel as if I’d flayed myself open and given you every gruesome detail of what I’d been through, but that was my burden to bear, not yours.
This isn’t tit for tat, Briggs. You don’t owe me your life’s story simply because I’ve given you mine.
I don’t need to know another thing about the man you were before we met if you’re not comfortable speaking about your past. I care about who you are now.
That’s the man I’m in love with.” Briggs’ mouth presses against mine in a hard and demanding kiss.
I relent to his need for control, savoring the taste of how desperate he is to voice his feelings without uttering a word.
When he finally pulls away, we’re both breathing heavily.
With our foreheads pressed together, I trail my fingers down his abdomen, then trace the veins pumping blood to his cock.