29. Rose
Rose
He undresses me slowly, with the same reverence I showed when washing his hands. As he strips me down, it’s like he’s seeing me for the first time, his gaze tracing the shape of me. He looks as if there’s nothing more he wants than to lose himself in me right now.
His hands work their way down my waist, my hips, my thighs. Not with the same insistent, dominant grasp they had before, but something softer. Something more intimate.
Hooking his thumb beneath my panties, he tugs them down, letting them drop to the floor in a heap before he pulls me against him. I can feel how hard he is beneath his pants, and a tingle warms my lower belly as I imagine him inside me, filling me in a single motion, buried up to the hilt.
He makes short work of his own clothes, still spattered with blood here and there—God knows who from.
But as he bares himself to me, I find myself staring at only him—not what he’s been through, not what he’s done, but just...
him. And it’s the only thing I can think of that matters, the only thing I care about, the only thing I need right now.
And he seems to sense it, guiding me back under the shower spray with a grin on his face.
He turns me away from him, drawing my body back against his, one arm around my waist to pin me there so I can feel his erection against my back.
He slips a hand up into my hair, making sure it’s thoroughly saturated by the water before reaching back for some shampoo, pouring it out into his hand before he applies it to my scalp.
In slow, soft circles, he begins to massage his fingers into my scalp, taking his sweet time, not hurrying a single moment of this.
My eyes drift shut, the sensation fluttering down my spine and covering my body with goosepimples, even beneath the hot water.
It feels so damn good to be touched by him like this, to have him take care of me after I took care of him.
Even if he was the one betrayed today, I faced something so close to a nightmare I can hardly fathom it, but when he touches me, all of that vanishes into nothingness.
He grips my hair lightly and tugs my head back so that the water runs over my scalp and washes the jasmine-scented suds down both our bodies. I meet his gaze for a moment, and his fingers tighten, clearly enjoying the way I’m looking at him right now.
Once he’s finished washing my hair, he slides his hand to the side of my neck and draws me in for a bruising kiss that nearly knocks the air from my lungs.
The water rushes in my ears as his tongue slips deep into my mouth, heart pounding as the pressure begins to rise between my legs.
His other hand works its way down my lower belly, cupping my mound, grinding into me lightly without fully touching me.
I groan into his mouth, desire throbbing through my system, and I feel his dick twitch against me.
I know he wants me just as badly as I want him, and he deepens the kiss, slipping his hand between my legs so that he can tease my clit as he tongues me passionately.
I reach back to hold him against me, my hips rising to meet his fingers as he teases me and coaxes me to the point of no return.
As much as he likes showing me off, he likes me best when I am completely given over to him like this, when he has me all to myself.
I can’t exactly argue with that. The way it feels to offer myself to him, to know that there is nothing he wouldn’t do to deny me the pleasure I ache… it’s beyond blissful.
He pulls his hand back from me suddenly, turning me to face him and hitching me up against the wall of the shower. I drape my arms around him, and he presses his mouth to mine.
"I want to be inside you when you come," he tells me, his voice taking on a raspy edge that speaks to the depths of his desire.
Speechless, I hook my ankles behind his back, pulling him to me eagerly.
Keeping me propped against the wall, he takes his cock in his hand, leaning back slightly so that he can line himself up with me.
I look down as I watch the tip of his head slip past my engorged lips, my own slickness mixing with the water pouring all over us.
And, just like that, I watch as he feeds himself into me inch by inch, savoring my walls tightening around him.
We moan in unison, his eyes meeting mine once more to take in every detail of my lust. He presses his hips to mine until our bodies are flush together, and I grasp the back of his neck as the two of us breathe into each other, the pleasure just as shocking as it was the first time.
But this is not like the first time—when I hardly knew who he was, when we both imagined each other to be little more than a random, anonymous fuck.
No, now he’s the man I love, the man who has protected me and cared for me and shown me how deeply he cares about our child.
The man I know I will never let go of. And he feels just the same way; I can see it written all over his face, his need for me laid bare as he begins to move inside me at last.
He pushes himself into me over and over again, blurring the edges between us until it feels like we are one being. No part of me wants to resist him now, and no part of me could, even if I’d wanted to. My pussy closes around him like we were carefully crafted for one another.
My body rises to meet his over and over again as he strokes into me, never taking his eyes off me, occasionally leaning in to steal a brief kiss that tangles our tongues.
I sink my nails into the back of his neck as I gaze at him, drinking in his expression, wanting to commit this moment to memory because I know I will never get it back.
This is the first time he’s been anything other than completely dominant when we are together.
Even though he’s still very much the one calling the shots, it feels like I’m seeing him for the first time.
It’s like he’s open to me in ways he wasn’t before.
I am addicted to it, this feeling of closeness, and I'm not going to let anything take it away from me.
He rocks into me, massaging me from the inside out as our eyes burn into one another.
"I want to feel you come, Rose," he rasps, and my body trembles someplace deep inside, a part of me responding that I hardly knew existed.
I whimper. He brushes his lips across mine again, just the barest touch, but it’s enough to set my nerve endings on fire with need.
"Come on," he urges me, drawing back and slamming himself deep again. "Come on, Rose, I know you want to give it to me..."
I’m teetering right on the brink, my pleasure at the very crest as he talks me through it—and then, I crash over the other side, my entire system seizing for a moment.
My pussy clenches around him, clutching him tight like I never want to let him go, and I cry out so loudly that I can hear it even over the rushing water.
I’m hardly aware of the stream around us, of the cool tile against my head, the jasmine scent in the air—no, the only thing I can focus on is him.
I tense around him time and time again, and then he plunges all the way into my pussy one last time as he comes, letting out an animal-like groan. My gaze flutters shut, my body shaking from the pleasure still pulsing through it in that moment.
All we can do is hold each other there, both of us breathing hard, as we come back down to earth.
Ilya grins, and I let out a shaky laugh as I realize how intently we’ve been staring at each other.
He kisses me one more time and then slowly guides me down from the shower, letting me lean against him so that my quaking legs don’t give out from under me.
"Let’s actually get you clean, huh?” he murmurs as he reaches for the shower gel.
He pours a generous amount into his hands and works it over my body, taking his time to lather up each inch of skin before he guides me beneath the water to rinse it off.
It feels so good, on my already-relaxed muscles, for him to lavish me with attention like this.
"I could get used to this," I reply softly, glancing over my shoulder.
He chuckles. "Maybe I want you to," he says.
When he’s done rinsing me off under the spray, he shuts off the water, stepping out of the shower and wrapping himself in a towel before he holds one out for me.
"I think I’m okay," I tell him, brushing it aside. I just want to be naked with him right now. I feel so safe when he’s this close to me, and I don’t want anything to get in the way of it, even some cotton.
He drops his towel and lets me lead him to the bedroom, where he lays on the bed, pulling me against him.
I run my hand across his chest, breathing in the scent of him.
Even after the shower, there is something so intoxicating about the smell of his skin, something I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to put my finger on.
"How are you feeling?” he asks me, running his fingers lazily through my hair.
I hesitate for a moment, trying to think of what I can say that’s both honest and won’t worry him too much.
"I’m... okay," I reply. "I spoke to Becky; that helped. She was relieved that nothing came of it in the end."
He doesn’t reply for a moment. No doubt part of him is pissed at Becky, knowing she’s the one who put me in danger, but at the end of the day, she’s my friend, and he doesn’t want to stand in the way of that.
"I’m glad," he finally says gruffly.
"And what about you?" I ask as I prop myself up on his chest, looking into his eyes searchingly. I’m not sure what to expect. It must have been one hell of a thing to get his head around, everything that’s happened in the last day.
But as he looks back at me, I see nothing but a clear-headed calmness that catches me by surprise.
"I’m here," he replies simply. "That’s all I care about right now."
He draws my head back to his chest, his hand resting on the back of my neck—not too hard, but firmly enough to tell that he’s there, that he has no intention of going anywhere else.
I know what he means. No matter what might be going on outside this door, there’s something so peaceful about being alone together, the two of us with nothing else to figure out.
I know that the entire world will be recalibrated from the moment he steps outside this door.
I can’t even imagine the lengths he’ll have to go through to make sure that everything he’s worked for doesn’t slip through his fingers.
And I want nothing more than to be here for him through all of it, to make sure that I pull my weight in establishing whatever comes next.
After all, our lives will revolve around our child, and that bond between us is deeper than anything I could have imagined.
"I want to marry you," he tells me suddenly.
I gasp, lifting my head again and staring at him, wide-eyed. "You... you what?"
"I want to marry you," he repeats, as though he’s saying something obvious. "Before the baby is born. So we can be a real family."
I lift my hand to my mouth, hardly able to take in what I’m hearing.
I suppose after everything we’ve been through, it’s not really that strange of a proposition; he knows I’m with him for good now, and nothing will change that, so marriage isn’t that much more of an ask.
But despite it all, there’s a side of me that can hardly believe that this man—this handsome, rich, powerful, protective, passionate man—wants me to be his wife.
"And..." He touches my chin for a moment, as though making sure his next words come out exactly as he intends them to. "And because I love you, Rose."
There it is. The words I have longed to hear from him, without even realizing it. The words that sound like the most natural thing in the world tripping off his tongue. The words that make the hair on the back of my neck stand up and my entire system brighten with joy.
“I love you, too, Ilya," I whisper, and I kiss him. Because what can I do other than kiss him right now? He has asked me to marry him, told me he loves me, shown me with no shadow of a doubt that he will put me and our child above anything in his life. Of course I love him.
"And the answer is yes, by the way," I add as I draw back, offering him a playful smile.
He slips a hand to the small of my back, pulling me against him. "Thought you were going to keep me waiting," he murmurs.
He rolls on top of me again, his body already tensing with desire. As our mouths melt together once more, I wrap my arms around him, forgetting about the world outside this room.
Because right now, as far as I’m concerned, the world is right here, in my arms.