REBECCA #2
"My professional diagnosis?" I raise an eyebrow. "You need a hospital."
He snorts. "I need a shower."
"We're already in one."
"I meant I need to finish this one."
I roll my eyes. "Your ribs could be broken."
"Oh, at least one is," he agrees.
I stop rubbing shampoo through his hair.
"At least one?"
He shrugs, then immediately regrets it, sucking in a sharp breath.
"See?" I point triumphantly.
He grumbles something under his breath.
"What was that?"
"I said... you're probably right."
I blink. "Did Alessio Vitali just admit I was right?"
"Don't get used to it."
He doesn't give me time to savor my deserved triumph. "But it's not like the hospital is going to do anything for me."
"X-rays," I point out.
"For?"
I sigh, "To make sure if it's broken."
"And then?"
I raise my arms, "I don't know, give you pain meds—" I stop myself. Yeah, he probably has stronger shit in his nightstand than the hospital can give him.
I try a different track. "Your eye."
"Nothing a bag of frozen peas can't cure."
"Your wrists."
"A Band-Aid."
"They're shredded."
"They'll heal."
"You have blood running down your arm."
"It'll stop eventually."
I glare at him.
"What?"
"Would you like some duct tape with that?" I huff in exasperation.
He actually pauses to think. "Hm." His glacier-blue eyes drift thoughtfully toward the bathroom door. "That's actually not a terrible idea."
I stare at him. "You cannot be serious."
"I've fixed worse."
"On yourself?"
"No."
He grins. "On my Shelby."
A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it. A real laugh. Not forced. Not hollow. Just... a laugh. His smile softens. "There she is."
The words steal it right back. My hands come to rest against his chest, careful of the bruises spreading beneath his skin. "I thought I lost you."
His smile disappears. "So did I."
The admission is so quiet I almost miss it beneath the water.
"I saw them dragging you into that van." My throat tightens. "You weren't moving."
His forehead comes to rest against mine.
"I was so scared."
He slides one hand around my waist, the other cupping the back of my neck. "I know."
I shake my head. "No, you don't." His eyes search mine, and I explain. "I've spent four years wondering if Rachel was dead." A tear mixes with the water running down my face. "For a few minutes today... I wondered if you were too."
He closes his eyes. "I'd rather die than put you through that again."
"Don't."
My eyes snap open. "Don't ever say that."
"I mean it."
"So do I."
I cup his bruised cheek. "I don't want a world where you're not in it."
For a long moment, neither of us says anything. The water continues to fall around us. The only sound. The only movement. The only thing reminding me the world hasn't stopped turning.
Alessio reaches up and cups my cheek. His thumb brushes gently beneath my eye, catching a tear before it can disappear into the spray.
He just... looks at me. Not at the bruises.
Not at the blood I'd missed washing away.
Just me. Like he's memorizing my face. Like he's reassuring himself I'm really standing here.
His glacier-blue eyes soften in a way I've never seen before. "You know..." His voice is rough. Almost hesitant. "I love you."
Everything inside me stills. The water. The steam.
The ache in my chest. For one impossible heartbeat, I forget how to breathe.
No man has ever looked at me the way he is now.
Like I'm the answer instead of another responsibility.
Like he isn't asking for anything in return. Like loving me is simply... a fact.
We've only really known each other for only a few weeks.
Weeks. People would call us crazy. Maybe they wouldn't be wrong.
But in those few weeks, we've survived things most couples never will.
He's seen me covered in grease. Covered in blood.
Terrified. Broken. He's seen the ugliest parts of me... and somehow chose me anyway.
If today made one thing painfully clear, it's that when I watched them drag him into that van...
when I thought I might never hear his voice again...
never feel these arms around me again...
something inside me broke. I spent four years searching for Rachel.
Believing nothing would ever matter more than finding her.
Then, for one horrifying moment... I realized losing Alessio would destroy me too.
Maybe even more. The thought terrifies me.
It should. But it doesn't make it any less true.
I swallow hard. "I love you too." The words come out barely above a whisper. "I don't know when it happened." A watery laugh escapes me. "Maybe when you insulted my tow truck."
His mouth twitches.
"Maybe when you kept showing up everywhere I was."
His smile grows.
"Or maybe…" I reach up and rest my hand over his heart. "…it was the moment I realized I'd rather walk into hell with you… than spend another day anywhere else."
His eyes close. Just for a second. When they open again, they're brighter than before. He leans down and kisses me. Slowly. Tenderly. Not with hunger. Not with desperation. Just… love.
When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine again. "I don't deserve you."
I smile through the tears. "Probably not."
A surprised laugh escapes him. "There she is."
I grin. "You'd better get used to me, Ice King."
His arms tighten around me. "I plan to."
He drops to his knees in front of me. Water pounds down his back as he hooks one of my legs over his shoulder, spreading me open like he owns every inch. His mouth is on me instantly hot, wet, merciless. His tongue drags through my folds, claiming me, before he sucks my clit hard into his mouth.
I cry out, head slamming back against the tile. "Alessio—"
He groans against me, and the sound vibrates straight through my core. Two thick fingers push inside me without warning, curling deep, stroking that spot that makes my knees buckle while his tongue works my clit in vicious circles.
"Fuck, you taste like mine," he growls, licking me like he's starving. "So wet. So fucking sweet. This pussy belongs to me, Beccs. Every drop. Every moan. Every fucking orgasm."
I fist my hands in his wet hair, hips rocking shamelessly against his face. He adds a third finger, stretching me open, fucking me hard with them while he sucks harder on my clit.
"Come for me," he demands, voice dark and filthy. "Let me taste how much you need me."
The orgasm rips through me like lightning. I shatter with a broken cry of his name, my walls clamping down around his fingers as pleasure tears me apart. He doesn't stop. He keeps licking and sucking, dragging it out until I'm shaking, oversensitive, and whimpering his name like a prayer.
Only then does he rise, hauling me up and spinning me around. He presses me against the tile, one hand gripping my hip as he thrusts into me from behind in one brutal stroke.
"Mine," he snarls against my ear, fucking me hard and deep. "This body is mine. This heart is mine."
His hand slides up, pinching my nipple hard enough to make me gasp. The sharp sting mixes with the pleasure until I can't tell where one ends and the other begins.
"Say it," he growls, pounding into me. "Tell me you're mine."
"I'm yours," I moan, pushing back against him. "Only yours, Alessio. Always."
He reaches around and finds my clit, rubbing it in tight, relentless circles while he fucks me harder.
"Come for me again," he demands. "Let me feel my wife fall apart on my cock."
The word—wife—sends me over the edge. I come with a sob of his name, my walls pulsing around him. He follows right after, burying himself deep and coming with a guttural groan, filling me with hot, thick pulses.
We stay locked together, breathing hard, water still falling over us. He presses rough kisses to my shoulder, my neck, my jaw.
"Marry me, Beccs."
The words are raw. Certain. Like they've been burning inside him for days.
I turn my head, meeting his eyes. "Yes."
He kisses me again, deep, possessive, full of forever.
And in that moment, wrapped in his arms beneath the falling water, the world feels right.