Chapter 7
Seven
Allison
When I wake up, I'm still on the couch with Dime, but I'm so freaking hot. It feels as if sweat is beading like crazy against my hairline.
Dime stirs beneath me. "You okay?" He asks, his arms wrapping around me.
"I'm so hot," I complain, sitting up, hoping to get some movement from the air.
"It's probably from the pain medication. I don't take it very often but every time I do, it makes me run hot. Do you want a shower?"
That sounds like the best thing anyone has ever asked me. More than anything I want to feel clean again, when right now I feel so dirty. "Yes, that sounds amazing."
"Then let's go take a shower."
He helps me up from the couch, and I lean into him as we walk down the hallway to his bathroom. My legs are still a little shaky, but his solid presence next to me makes me feel steady. Safe.
When we get into the bathroom, he turns on the water, testing it with his hand until he's satisfied with the temperature. Then he turns to me, his eyes searching my face.
"You sure about this?" he asks softly.
I nod, because I am. More sure than I've been about anything in a long time. "I'm sure."
His hands are gentle as he helps me out of his t-shirt that I've been wearing. The sweatpants follow, pooling at my feet. I should feel vulnerable standing here naked in front of him, but I don't. With Dime, I've never felt anything but safe.
He strips out of his own clothes, and then he's taking my hand, helping me step into the shower. The warm water hits my skin, and I close my eyes, tilting my head back and letting it wash over me. It feels incredible, like I'm washing away everything that's happened over the last few days.
"Turn around," Dime says, his voice low.
I do, and he reaches for the shampoo. His fingers work through my hair, massaging my scalp in a way that makes my whole body relax. I've never had anyone wash my hair before. It's intimate in a way I wasn't expecting, and tears prick at my eyes for entirely different reasons than before.
"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, and I can hear the reverence in his voice.
"I don't feel beautiful right now."
"You are." His hands move down to my shoulders, and he starts washing my body with the same careful attention he gave my hair. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
I turn to face him, water streaming between us. "Dime…"
"Let me take care of you," he says, cutting off whatever I was going to say. "Please."
So I do. I let him wash me, let him touch me with hands that are somehow both strong and gentle at the same time. Every stroke of his fingers feels like a promise, like he's trying to tell me something he doesn't have words for.
When he's done, I take the soap from him and return the favor. I explore the planes of his chest, the muscles of his arms, the scars that tell stories I don't know yet. He stands still for me, letting me worship his body the way he just worshiped mine.
Then his hands are cupping my face, tilting it up toward his. "Allison," he breathes, and then his mouth is on mine.
The kiss is soft at first, tender. But it deepens quickly, and I'm pressing myself against him, needing to be closer. His hands slide down my back, pulling me flush against his body, and I can feel every inch of him.
"I need you," I whisper against his lips. "Please, I need you."
He groans, the sound rumbling through his chest into mine. "Are you sure? You're hurt, you're…"
"I'm sure." I kiss him again, harder this time. "I need to feel something other than fear. I need to feel you."
That's all it takes. He lifts me like I weigh nothing, pressing my back against the tile wall. The water is still streaming down on us as he positions himself between my legs.
"Tell me if I hurt you," he says, his eyes locked on mine.
"You won't."
And he doesn't. He's careful as he enters me, watching my face for any sign of discomfort. But there is none. There's only pleasure, only the feeling of being completely connected to this man who has become everything to me.
We move together slowly, the rhythm building between us like a wave.
His forehead rests against mine, our breath mingling as the steam rises around us.
As his cock presses in and pulls out of my body, I close my eyes and let myself enjoy it.
It's tender and wild at the same time. This man gives me everything every single time we're together.
Our fingers hook together and he holds them against the tile of the shower, holding me steady as he pushes into and pulls out of my body.
Dipping his mouth down to my chest, he takes my nipple in his mouth as he grinds against me, and I grip his shoulders tightly, digging my fingernails into his flesh.
"I've got you," he whispers, and I know he means it in every way possible.
He grinds his cock so that the pleasure sparks deep in my belly, his hand trails down my stomach, his thumb worrying my clit. It's all I need to break apart the tension I've been holding in my body.
When I come apart in his arms, it's with his name on my lips and tears streaming down my face that have nothing to do with the shower. He follows seconds later, burying his face in my neck as he shudders against me.
For a long moment, we just stand there, holding each other under the spray. Then he gently sets me back on my feet, but he doesn't let go. His arms stay wrapped around me, and I lean into him, feeling better than I have in days.
"Thank you," I murmur against his chest.
"For what?"
"For this. For making me feel like myself again."
He kisses the top of my head. "You don't have to thank me for that."
Eventually, the water starts to run cold, and we get out. He wraps me in a towel that's so big it could be a blanket, then dries himself off. I watch him move around the bathroom, and something in my chest swells.
"Dime?"
"Yeah, baby?"
I take a breath, gathering my courage. "I know you're hiding things from me.
About the club, about what's going on with Logan's family.
" I see him tense, but I keep going. "And I don't care.
Not right now, anyway. Whatever secrets you have, whatever you're doing to keep me safe, it doesn't change the fact that you're the best man I've ever known. "
He turns to face me fully, and I can see the conflict in his eyes. The war between wanting to tell me everything and wanting to protect me from it.
"Allison…" his voice is full of gravel, tortured in the way he speaks.
"You don't have to explain." I step closer to him, putting my hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath my palm.
"I trust you. More than I've ever trusted anyone.
And when you're ready to tell me, I'll be ready to listen.
But until then, I just need you to know that whatever it is, it doesn't change how I feel about you. "
His hand covers mine. "How do you feel about me?"
The question hangs between us, heavy with meaning. I could deflect, could make a joke, could pretend I don't know exactly what he's asking. But I'm done hiding from things that scare me.
"I'm in love with you," I whisper. "Maybe I've been in love with you since the first moment I met you. I don't know. But what I do know is that you make me feel safe and seen and like I matter. And that's something I've never had before."
He pulls me into his arms so fast that I gasp. His embrace is tight, almost desperate, and when he speaks, his voice is rough with emotion.
"You do matter. More than you know." He pulls back just enough to look at me. "And I'm in love with you, too. Have been since the day I met you."
I feel tears gathering again, but these are good tears. Happy tears. "Really?"
"Really." He brushes a strand of wet hair from my face. "You're it for me, Allison. Whatever happens, whatever I have to do to keep you safe, you need to know that."
"I know." And I do. I can see it in his eyes, feel it in the way he holds me. "I know."
We stand there in the bathroom, wrapped in towels, and for the first time since I woke up in that hospital room, I feel like everything might actually be okay. Because I have this man, and he has me, and whatever darkness is coming, we'll face it together.
"Come on," he says finally, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Let's get you into some dry clothes and back in bed. You need rest."
"Will you stay with me?"
"Always."
And as we walk back to the bedroom, his arm around my waist and mine around his, I let myself believe it. That this strong, complicated, beautiful man will always be there. That I've finally found something worth holding onto.
That I've found home.