4. Emma #2
The steam soon filled the bathroom and made me feel like I was in my own world. Warm water cascaded over my shoulders, washing away the remnants of leaves, earth, and adrenaline. I closed my eyes and breathed, letting the rhythm of water steady me.
For the first time since almost losing Logan, I felt safe in my body. Grounded. Sure, I was sore, but I was alive.
I ran my fingers through my hair, knocking debris from it, the heat loosening my muscles and the trauma they had been carrying.
When the bathroom door creaked open, I didn’t startle, because I knew what was coming next.
Because I couldn’t resist him, and he couldn’t withstand me.
Logan’s reflection appeared in the fogged mirror.
“Couldn’t stay away?” I teased, my voice a lazy whisper over the sound of the shower.
“Hardly.” He shook his head, stepping closer. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to after what happened… Not until all our enemies have been beaten.”
I nodded solemnly as the curtain shifted, letting in a cooler draft for a half second before his warmth filled the space again. Logan reached out, brushing his thumb along my shoulder, tracing a droplet as it slid down my arm. There was no urgency now. Just familiarity. Reverence.
We stood there in the steam, the silence between us doing all the talking. His hand found mine beneath the water, our fingers intertwining, and I leaned back against him, eyes closing once more.
“You have to let me catch my breath,” I murmured.
“For what?” he asked, his lips brushing against the crown of my head.
“As if you don’t know.”
“It’s not my fault that you can’t tell me no.”
“Who could ever abstain from you, Logan?”
For a few moments we waited, the world just the sound of water and the feeling of love buzzing between us.
Our gentle kisses turned frenzied, and my nipples tightened with pleasure as he teased them. Against my better judgment and because I wasn’t quite sure I could hold myself up any longer as exhausted as I was, I guided Logan’s hands between my thighs.
He drew tentative circles around my clit, his eyes searching mine.
Steam gathered in soft clouds around us, blurring the edges of our bodies.
The water cascading around me amplified each tantalizing moment…
and part of me was so content I could’ve closed my eyes and forgotten the existence of anything other than us.
When Logan’s other hand gripped my hip, the world contracted to this moment of contact. It was grounding and dizzying all at once. He could see I was tired, but I still wanted it. I still wanted him.
His touch was both a mainstay and comfort, begging me to collapse into him once again. The spray from the shower glittered against his shoulders, and he looked as if he had been carved from stone. Some ancient sea god. Perfect. Flawless.
He leaned in, guiding my hips, and pressed a slow kiss to the hollow of my neck. God. I forgot how to breathe. I trembled and nearly lost my footing, but it didn’t matter because he lifted me up, pushing my body against the shower wall.
When he entered me, I collapsed into him. I needed this. I needed him. I was wet, sliding against his length.
“Logan…”
I bit his neck and shoulders, clinging to him desperately. I met his eyes through the veil of steam. There was no need for words. Everything between us was understood.
“You ruin me, woman,” Logan moaned.
That was all it took to send me over the edge. I came again, my body tightening around him, and he spilled into me again.
I reached up. His eyes were soft on mine. I traced a line across his jaw, feeling the roughness of stubble beneath my fingertips. “You’re here. We’re here,” I whispered as if saying it aloud might keep the moment from fading.
But fuck, we were both exhausted.
We finished washing our bodies for the second time, and that seemed symbolic, this moment of cleansing and rebirth, washing away the fear and the ache that had led us here.
We stayed under the falling water a little while longer before he reached over me and twisted the knob. “Let’s go to bed, hmm?”
Logan wrapped me in a towel and carried me to our bedroom.
The sheets still felt as warm as when we had been in them hours earlier.
Logan lay beside me, one arm draped lazily across my waist, his fingers tracing slow, absent circles on my skin.
The motion was hypnotic—steady, unhurried, a wordless reminder that we were both still here.
I turned onto my side, facing him. His eyes were half-closed. It had been a long twenty-four hours for the both of us. He wasn’t asleep, though. I could feel his breath hadn’t settled into a true rest. I wondered if he would be able to let himself sleep after everything that had happened.
I watched him, memorizing his every breath. I brushed my fingers through his damp hair, still smelling faintly of earth despite the jasmine and sandalwood shampoo. “You look tired,” I whispered.
He smiled, soft and content. “You wore me out.”
“Good,” I said, laughing before grinning and resting my head back against his chest.
His laugh rumbled beneath my ear, and I could forget what had led us here, and I let myself find home in his arms.
We stayed this way.
I listened to the steady beat of his heart and experienced the motion of his breathing.
The adrenaline had long since faded, leaving behind something gentler, an ache that wasn’t pain but peace.
Every muscle in my body felt heavy in the best possible way, like I could finally rest without the fear of Logan disappearing.
Logan’s hand wrapped around my body as he switched places, spooning me. “Are you okay, Emma?”
“Of course,” I said. “Better than okay. I mean, all things considered.”
He nodded, pressing a kiss against my shoulder. “Good. I like seeing you like this.”
“Like what?”
“Safe. Peaceful.” His voice dropped, barely audible. “Like you believe me when I say we’re real, we’re here, and we’re safe.”
“I believe you,” I whispered.
And I did. I believed him. Nothing could hurt us now. I was home in his arms.
“Hey, I have a question,” I said.
“What’s that?”
“Did my mother see you naked earlier? Is that why she got the heck out of Dodge before I woke up?”
“Modesty has no place among shifters, so I suppose she did.” Laughter escaped him in a long series of barks.
“When you came to see me in our bedroom?”
“Yep.”
“No wonder she beat it out of there.”
He tipped his head to the side, as though considering. “For whatever her discomfort level is with nudity, your mother has adjusted remarkably well to the whole idea of shifters and the shifter world. She didn’t go running to the police when she found out.”
I grimaced. “She doesn’t really have a choice. I’m not sure she’ll be able to handle it when she finds out her baby girl permitted a beheading.”