Antonio
I watch as Julia carefully wraps the dressing around my arm, her brow slightly furrowed and her tongue caught between her teeth.
I can’t help but smile as I observe her.
She has such a delicate nature, apologizing every time she brushes me too hard and I wince.
I can already picture her tending to a child the same way, talking them through every moment until they are healed.
“You’re pretty good at that,” I remark as she ties off the bandage, making sure that the wound is entirely covered. It still hurts, but it stings a hell of a lot less now that she’s the one fixing me up.
“I had to take a first aid course when I was working as a waitress,” she explains. “I guess I still have some of it memorized. Never was good at carrying trays of drinks without spilling them, but I could put on a mean bandage if it came down to it.”
I flex my fingers, moving my arm this way and that, making certain that the covering will hold. When I’m certain it will, I turn my attention to her. “Your turn.”
“Right.” She draws her knees up to her chest, glancing at the enormous bathtub beside me.
I hadn’t thought much of it when I picked out this place, just looking for the closest apartment I could stay in that would allow me to keep my location under wraps, but now I’m glad I have somewhere I can take my time to tend to her.
Even if she won’t eat, I want to check her over, make sure that she’s uninjured.
She told me that Andreo didn’t do anything to her, but I’m not sure I’ll believe it until I see it with my own two eyes.
Shit. Andreo. Even the thought of him sends a rush of grief and guilt through my chest. He made me choose, trying to force my hand so that I took her out.
I was all but certain he was lying to me when he told me that things would be different, that he would work with me, that with Salamanca on his side he would be able to put right everything he had broken.
But there is still a part of me, a part of me I’m not sure I’ll be able to shake that easily, that fears that I will never stop wondering if it might have been true.
I rise to my feet and start running the bath, the room soon filling with steam, and I can feel Julia looking up at me, probably trying to work out what’s going on inside my head. I don’t want to tell her. I can tell she’s already ridden with guilt—the way she apologized was proof enough of that.
Once the bath is full, I help her undress, taking my time to strip her out of her clothes.
I have to admit, it’s hard not to notice the way her body looks, the soft curves beneath her skin, how much my hands itch to feel more of her.
I know I should be keeping my hands to myself, but it feels impossible as I pull the dress from her shoulders, the delicate way her hair falls over her collarbone.
But I push it aside, and offer her a hand to help her in.
My gaze lingers on her belly for a moment, though I doubt there’s anything there to see.
She’s so early on, I can’t make out even the barest shape of a bump, but I know our child is in there—a thought which spirals within me, almost more than I can make sense of.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, as she reclines in the water in front of me. Beneath the shimmering surface, she almost looks like a nymph, something plucked straight from a myth. It’s the strangest thing, having her here in front of me, when I thought I might never get the chance again.
I reach for a cup on the side of the bath and use it to wet her hair, picking up a shampoo bottle and pouring a generous amount into my hands. She closes her eyes as I reach up to work it into her hair, taking my time, the herbal scent drifting through the steam.
She leans into me, slowly letting the tension leak from her, and I gently work my hand down to her shoulders, using the suds to massage her muscles.
I can feel the weight she’s carrying there, and it pains me to think that she was so fearful, so scared of what was going to happen when it came down to it.
Andreo threatened her with so much that clearly petrified her, and I hate the idea that she believed him, even for a moment.
I carefully rinse the shampoo from her hair, cupping my hand around her head to make sure none of it gets onto her face. The water courses down her back, tracing out the shape of her, and I can’t help but let my fingers trail down the same spot, marking out the line of her spine beneath her skin.
She lets out a slight sigh as I cup my hand around her back, and she flicks her gaze to mine—this time, the exhaustion seems to have eased slightly, and there’s a flicker of something else, something else entirely, in the way she looks at me.
“Your hands feel good,” she murmurs to me.
Carefully, I let one hand stray toward her front, and she leans back, extending her legs beneath the water as my thumb caresses over her breast. Her nipple swells at my touch, and the water ripples with movement.
Her legs part slightly, and I can see it as the invitation it’s intended as, the promise of how much she wants me.
“Where do you want me?” I ask her softly.
I need her calling the shots here. She’s the one who has been through hell, and I’m not going to push her past the point of what she can handle.
I want her, of course I want her—some primal part of me, deep inside, wants to claim her all over again, make sure she knows that she still belongs to me, but I have to play it by ear.
She slides her hand over mine and, meeting my gaze, drags it down her body—over her breast, across her belly, and down to her mound.
“Here,” she whispers, her voice a little shaky.
I need no more invitation. I graze my fingers along her bush, and then move them down between her thighs, cupping my hand between her legs before I push my fingers inside of her.
She gasps, her body rising beneath the water, giving me all the access I need, and I work my fingers into her slowly and surely, feeling the clench of her pussy around me.
It’s enough to stir my cock beneath my pants, but right now, I’m focused on her, intent on making sure she’s the one who feels good right now.
“Oh,” she breathes, her head sinking back against the back of the bathtub as she allows me to touch her in her most intimate spot.
I watch her, drinking in the sight of her, committing it all to memory. I’m never going to let her slip through my fingers again, I know that much for sure, but I want to remember every little moment of this anyway. To savor it.
Beneath the water, her wedding ring catches the light—she never took it off, not even in the midst of everything Andreo did to her, and that thought alone is enough to drive my desire even deeper.
I curl my fingers slightly inside of her so I can press them against the ridge deep within her.
She shudders, thighs closing around my hand, and her hips begin to move back against me as though they have a life of their own.
Her cheeks are flushed, head tipped back, damp hair clinging to her shoulders and neck.
She looks so beautiful, the kind of beauty I want to capture with my touch.
I reach to grasp the nape of her neck, drawing her gaze around to mine so she has no choice but to look into my eyes while my fingers move inside of her.
Our gazes meet, and she’s on fire for me.
I can see it on her face, in the part of her lips, the tension in her jaw.
I keep the movement of my fingers slow and steady within her, reaching up with my thumb so I can caress her clit and add to the rush of tension that’s already clearly passing through her body.
I can see it building, growing, unfurling inside her like something she has barely been able to keep control of all this time.
My fingers dig into her nape, her hair brushing against my fingers, and a slight furrow appears between her brows as she rushes nearer and nearer to the edge.
And then, at last, she gives in. She gasps, and I feel her pussy clenching around my fingers, over and over again, the sharp rush of her orgasm impossible to ignore.
Her belly clenches, the water rippling as though it has been disturbed by the sheer intensity of her pleasure.
The whole time, I keep her eyes on me, greedy for it, for the way she looks, to remind myself that she’s mine.
That she is mine.
That thought intensifies in my mind, and by the time I withdraw my fingers from her, I know I need more.
I unbuckle my pants, drawing my cock into my hand, and reach into the water to draw her onto my lap.
The bath spills over the sides and onto the floor, but I don’t pay it any attention.
None of that matters. None of it could. I just need to be inside her right now.
God, I need it. I want to show her that she still belongs to me, no matter what happens, no matter who tries to come between us. I will always choose her. And all I want in return is the promise that she will do the same for me.
She slips into my lap, breathless, cheeks flushed, her body still trembling from the orgasm, and I guide myself inside her in an instant.
She groans as I pull her down on top of me, filling her deep, flexing my hips into her as I press my feet against the bathtub to give me all the leverage I need.
She feels so perfect, and it’s hard to believe that we’ve ever been apart, not when being with her again feels the way it does.
She takes my face in her hands, eyes searching mine for a moment, and then kisses me hard, tongue dancing against mine like she’s speaking a whole new language.
On some level, it does seem that way, as if choosing her over everything else has marked us as something even more special than I could have imagined.
I don’t know if I would ever have thought that slipping the ring onto her finger would bring us here, but I would do it a thousand times over again if I could promise myself that we would find each other like this.
I take her hips, guiding her back and forth on top of me, savoring the feel of her slick tightness wrapped around me.
She’s hanging onto my shoulders for dear life, careful not to put pressure on the wound on my arm that she has just dressed, though I doubt I would be able to feel it, anyway.
I can’t feel anything right now but how perfect she feels around me, my cock already throbbing as I try to hold back from going over the edge.
I want to come so badly, but I also want this to last for a whole lot longer, to savor every fucking second of having her back here in my arms, where she belongs.
“Antonio, I…”
I catch her face in my hand, guiding it toward me. “Say my name again.” I love the way it sounds on her lips, like a promise, like a prayer, like she has been whispering it all this time in the hopes that I will somehow find her again.
She smiles, brushing her nose against mine, and pauses for a moment before she comes out with it, clearly enjoying teasing me before she gifts me what I’ve been waiting for.
“Antonio…”
“Fuck,” I grunt, pushing myself into her, hips flexing hungrily to fill her over and over again.
She brings her lips to my ear, letting them tease there for just a moment, and repeats my name with every thrust, like she knows how wild it makes me and wants to see just how much further she can push things.
I clutch at her hips and the back of her head, pulling her close, breathing in the scent of her mingled with that shampoo, and I let her coax me over the edge with nothing more than the sound of those sweet words on her lips.
I buck up and into her, finally tipping over the edge and into my release, right there on the bathroom floor with her in my arms. I grunt as I fill her with my seed, and this time, it feels more intimate than it ever has before.
Maybe because I’ve chosen this, chosen her, in no uncertain terms. There is no doubt in my mind of how much I want her.
There is nothing I wouldn’t do to keep her safe, keep her close, keep her here in my arms.
She holds me there, arms around me, our chests pressed so close together that I can feel the thud of her heart through her shirt. She gazes at me for a moment before she makes a move to pull back, as if she doesn’t want this to be over any more than I do.
Because, when it’s over, we’re going to have to come back down to earth and face the reality of everything that has happened to bring us to this point.
I push her wet hair away from her face and kiss her once again. Reality might be calling, but for now, I want to linger a little longer in the fantasy.