Chapter 31
Chapter thirty-one
Eden
“All the Time in the World"
The sound of the shower curtain closing woke me up that morning.
He was an early riser every day, but I knew by the way he had a bag and case set up by the door that he was going somewhere.
That meant another day of sitting here at this godforsaken motel by myself again.
I was going to go crazy if I couldn’t get out of here.
I got to my feet and made my way to the bathroom, brushing my teeth at the sink.
The mirror was shattered but had been cleaned up.
The trash can was full of shards and glittering debris.
Halo didn’t notice I was in the bathroom, or if he did, he didn’t react. I crept over to the curtain and jerked it open, poking my head around it.
“Fuck!” he exclaimed, jumping backwards so hard that his feet squeaked on the wet floor. His hands were quickly diving towards his crotch, trying to cover himself.
I laughed. “Some secret super soldier you are.”
“Jesus, Eden.”
“Also…” I gave an exaggerated glance down, raising my brows. “I’ve seen it.”
“Get in or get out,” he snarked, turning his back to me.
I reached in and smacked his bare ass before quickly moving out of reaching distance. I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the other side of the shower. At the sound of my entry, he looked over his shoulder at me. He seemed surprised.
“What?” I said, wetting my hair. “You told me to get in.”
I grabbed the small bottle of cheap motel shampoo and held it up, turning my back to him. “You gonna wash my hair or just stand there, all menacing, for fun?”
He took the bottle from me and pulled me backwards until my head was fully under the shower’s spray.
He ran his fingers through it, first clean, then with shampoo.
His hands were slow and sure, working the suds from root to end.
His thumbs traced the back of my neck as he rinsed me off, the water dragging soap down my back in little rivers. It wasn’t sexual… but it was.
“If this whole thing doesn’t work out, you could go into salon work,” I quipped.
He hesitated, and I felt it, the smallest pause in his fingers.
I hoped he was laughing quietly to himself.
I turned, standing with our chests so close together that water spilled on either side of our bodies.
His hands were gliding across my wet flesh as he looked down at me, but I couldn’t read his gaze.
“So the tattoo on your back… what is it?”
What I had once thought might be the wings of a bird were now on full display. It was… something else.
“An angel.”
“No…”
“Yes. Biblically accurate. You know: eyes, wheels, fire.”
“What about this?” I traced my fingers across something on his bicep, the words in some curled text that I didn’t recognize. Arabic maybe.
“It says ‘no mercy.’”
I looked at those tally marks again. “You ever think about getting one for someone you saved?”
“I don’t save people”
“You saved me.”
That made him go still. The water beat down between us.
“I’d need more skin,” he murmured.
I leaned in slowly, pausing to let him meet me halfway if he wanted to.
His body wanted it; that much was obvious: his erection was pressed against my stomach thick and insistent…
But did he want it? He hadn’t last night, but I thought things might have changed.
Maybe I had broken through that fearful wall, convinced him that I wouldn’t be too attached.
He leaned down pressing his lips to the corner of my mouth, gentle at first. His hands slid to my hips, pulling me closer, water cascading around our bodies.
When our mouths met fully, there was no fire behind it, no teeth, no desperation.
It was slow and deep, the kind of kiss that wanted to linger, like we had all the time in the world.
He backed me into the wall, chest warm against mine, the cold tile shocking against my spine in contrast to his heat.
Our mouths never broke apart, just deepened.
One of his hands slid over my back, along the curve of my waist like he couldn’t get enough of the touch.
When he finally broke the kiss, he rested his forehead against mine, eyes closed.
“We don’t have to,” he said, voice hoarse.
He kept reminding me of that, but I knew it was more for him than it was for me.
I reached between us and guided him, slow and confident, no games this time.
No teasing or uncertainty. Just him. Just me.
Just this. He hissed a curse as he slid into me, and I kissed him again, stealing the sound from his mouth.
The rhythm we found was steady, swaying with the drip of the water and the hush of breath between mouths.
My fingers dug into his shoulders, anchoring me there as he filled me completely.
His hands roamed but not like before, curling over the back of my neck like he was holding me, not fucking me.
We moved together like we’d done this a thousand times: not out of some kind of familiar routine, but like an instinctual knowledge of each other.
Our eyes stayed locked. Our mouths brushed between breaths. He made these quiet sounds: soft grunts, sharp exhales, that felt like secrets.
He moved his mouth to my shoulder moaning and muttering a quiet and shaky, “Fuck…”
My body tightened at the sound of his voice, quiet and desperate, and my hands struggled to grasp his slick flesh to pull him closer. He pressed against me in response and whimpered with need.
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you…” He kissed me again, taking the gasp from my lips and swallowing it until it mixed with his own sounds of pleasure as I came.
It wasn’t a sharp peak, instead slow and warm like being pulled under a tide I didn’t want to escape from.
It ebbed in my core and I felt like I melted into him.
He drove into me one more time, and I felt his release, throbbing and filling me in a way that almost had me reeling again.
His hips faltered, but he kept me in his arms. I could feel the tremble in his body as he rested against me.
He kissed the spot just behind my ear and whispered something I couldn’t quite catch. Maybe I wasn’t meant to. It could have been nothing, or it could have been everything.
He still had one hand around my waist, using it to help anchor me between him and the wall. He brought the other one up to gently grab my chin, tilting my head up so that we made eye contact.
“You are so beautiful like this.”
“You mean soaking wet?” I laughed, water dripping down my face as he held it upturned.
“No. Coming for me, with me.”
“We can stay in here for a while,” I breathed, and he let go of my face to set me on my feet.
“I have something I have to do today.”
The regret was there in his voice, and the want, too. Like he wished the world outside that shower didn’t exist. But it did. And I knew, sooner or later, it would come for us again.
Fifteen minutes later, we were dressed, and he was zipping up his bag. His expression was back to neutral: the professional mask slipping into place like armor.
“You going out to kill someone?” I asked lightly, mostly just to see if I could get a reaction.
He looked at me. “I’m going out to deal with something.”
“Same thing.”
He didn’t argue. “I’ll be back before it gets dark.”
I nodded, even if I didn’t quite believe him.
He gave me a look. “Do not leave this room.”
I held up my hands. “Cross my heart.”
He lingered a bit longer, eyes sweeping over me, before grabbing his keys and stepping out, the door shutting behind him with that same quiet finality it always had.
I waited exactly seven minutes, and then I shoved my feet in my shoes and left the room.
The vending machine stood at the end of the second floor walkway, blinking half-dead like everything else in this place. I shoved a crumpled dollar into the slot and debated between a chocolate bar and potato chips. Chocolate won the internal poll, so I pressed A7.
The spiral turned, and the candy bar dropped, but it got stuck on the bottom right before it deposited into the tray where I could reach it.
“Shit,” I whispered, dropping to my knees to attempt to work it into a position I could grab it. Then I heard the crunch of boots behind me.
“You know,” said a voice that was low, smooth, and a little amused, “you’re either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, being out here alone.”
I turned, still crouched down against the machine.
A man leaned casually against the railing ten feet away, one ankle crossed over the other, hands deep in the pockets of a weathered leather jacket.
He wasn’t particularly tall, and he didn’t make any overt move toward me, but something about the way he stood so relaxed and so still made my skin crawl.
He had a sharpness to him, like he noticed too much.
“Excuse me?” I asked, straightening.
“Not a lot of people stop at this place, that’s all.”
“Well, I’m just getting a Snickers,” I snapped, heart pounding nervously in my throat.
He nodded like that was fascinating.
“I’m not alone,” I insisted, giving the machine one good shake again with my shoulder. The candy bar fell, and I grabbed it, getting to my feet. “I just came out for a snack.”
He nodded again. “I know.”
There was no emphasis on the word ‘know,’ but it sent a spike of fear through my chest.
I grabbed my snack and stood up, facing him.
His gaze dropped to the candy bar in my hand, then slid up to my face again, the corners of his mouth twitching into something that might have been a smile.
“Sweet tooth?”
“Is this your version of small talk?” I shot back.
“No, no. I Just wanted to be sure you knew how unsafe it was out here.”
“I feel very safe.” I forced a smile.
He tilted his head. “Maybe… maybe you’ve just been lucky, or maybe someone’s been watching you this whole time and just hasn’t decided what to do with you yet.”
My spine went rigid, and I took a step back. He didn’t move.
“That sounds like a threat,” I said carefully.
“No. That sounds like advice.” His eyes narrowed just slightly. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference.”
The wind picked up just then, blowing between the metal walkways with a low howl. The ice machine kicked on with a guttural hum. I blinked, turning to look towards the sound, and when I looked back, again he was gone. No footsteps. No sound. Just... gone.
The walkway was empty. The air felt heavier, like the moment had left a residue on my skin.
I turned and hurried back toward the room, pulse fluttering in my neck.
I locked the door behind me and kicked my shoes off.
My palms were sweating. I peeled the wrapper off the candy bar and took a bite, but the chocolate was tasteless in my mouth.
Who the hell was that?
I sat on the edge of the bed, chewing mechanically, eyes fixed on the door, even though I’d locked it.
I would have felt better with a deadbolt or chain.
I replayed the encounter again and again, trying to figure out what I’d missed.
Something about the way he watched me, like I was a piece on a board and he already knew the outcome.
He hadn’t touched me, hadn’t raised his voice, but I was more rattled than I had been the night I saw that man shot in the street.
I thought about telling Halo. I even opened my mouth to say it out loud, to practice how I would tell him like that would make the decision easier. But then I imagined the look on his face, the disappointment and the frustration. The I-told-you-so clipped into every edge of his voice.
I needed to know I could handle myself. That I wasn’t a prisoner. So I decided to say nothing. I finished the candy bar and threw the wrapper in the trash. Then I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.