Chapter 6
Aurora
My Tiffany-blue velvet couch is covered in blood spatter and bullet holes. I text Jax a picture with a crying emoji. He sends me a promise to order another one, along with a selfie of him in front of a snowy window, his nose scrunched and his lip curled. He’s so handsome, even when perturbed.
I miss you.
My HUSBAND
Miss you too. You’re doing too much. Lie down.
I prop the broom against the wall and raise my middle finger, spinning in a circle to ensure he sees it.
I have no idea where he hides these cameras.
I tuck my phone into my hoodie pocket and return to sweeping up the shattered glass.
It’s never-ending, like glitter—glass fragments lie beneath, within, and around the furniture, both upstairs and downstairs.
Reece’s team boarded up the windows and secured the kicked-in back door. A crime scene specialist came yesterday and removed what blood and gore they could. The couch, unfortunately, is unsalvageable.
They’re only material objects, I remind myself. They can be replaced—or not. Either way, they don’t matter. What matters is we’re all alive. Our wounds will heal eventually.
My phone buzzes, and I pause once again.
My HUSBAND
I saw that!
Good.
My HUSBAND
Go rest! Now that the biohazard team is finished, I’ll hire a cleaning crew.
Staying busy keeps my mind off everything.
My HUSBAND
Nothing for you to worry about. It’s over. I promise.
If only my brain got the memo. Whenever I’m not occupied, I relive the night over in my head, searching for…mistakes? Reasoning? Solace? It hasn’t found it yet, whatever ‘it’ is.
A familiar, heavy thud of footsteps on the stairs sends me scrambling to find a hiding place. I drop the broom and dart for the yoga studio, which leads to the terrace. I’d rather not receive a scolding from Reece for leaving the apartment while he’s already grumpy.
“Don’t you dare run.” His deep voice booms down the hall, his words sharp. “You won’t get your surprise if I have to chase you.”
Curiosity piqued, I step around the corner, meeting him at the bottom of the stairs. “What surprise?”
Too quick for me to react, he bends down and scoops me up with one arm under my ass and thighs. “You’ll see.” He adjusts me, careful of my stomach. “Hold on.”
“Reece!” I press into his uninjured side and hug his neck. “You shouldn’t be carrying me!”
“And you shouldn’t be taking off without me. I swear, you do this shit on purpose.”
I attempt to stretch my feet to the floor. “Put me down! You’re hurt.”
Our faces only inches apart, he shoots me an icy glare, daring me to keep it up.
His usual calm and patient demeanor has been replaced with simmering agitation. I’ve never known him to be this irritable. It’s hot, minus the dark circles under his eyes and pale complexion.
Without missing a step, he carries me up the stairs and takes a right toward my room. “Are your feet sore?”
I reply, “No,” a little too quickly.
He gives me a side-eye. “Liar.”
We enter my bedroom suite to the soothing scent of lavender and mint. He kicks the door shut behind us, briefly glancing around, then heads to my bathroom.
“Worried?” I wonder if his mind is also in the woods.
He sets me down in front of the enormous tub. “Nope, I already cleared the house. Force of habit. Are you worried?”
“My brain is. It won’t stop replaying the break-in.”
He cups the back of my neck and kisses my forehead. “That’s normal. It’ll fade as we renovate and replace the bad memories with happier ones.”
He crouches, and the bathtub snatches my attention.
The dimly lit room is illuminated by a small LED flashlight in a cup beside the faucet, most likely from his gear. Steam fogs the window overlooking the ocean, and the jetted tub overflows with bubbles.
“You don’t have candles,” he points out, untying my shoes.
“The smell is overpowering.” I perch on the edge of the tile and reach down to stop him. “I can do that.”
He shoos me away. “I know,” he answers both my statements, loosening my laces and pulling off my sneakers with one hand.
When he goes to remove my socks, I retract my foot. “I’m sweaty.”
Ignoring me, he hooks the tops of my socks with his finger and swiftly removes them. He lifts my feet to inspect the cuts on my soles, scowls, and stands. “Get in,” he demands, all gruff and annoyed.
He turns to go, and I let out a pouty whine. How dare he set this up and leave?
“So dramatic, princess. I won’t be long.” He’s out the door without a glance back.
There’s a higher chance of it snowing on the beach in Santa Monica than Reece getting in this bath with me, but, hey, a girl can dream. He might sit in here with me though.
I slip out of my clothes and peek in the mirror, but the glass is fogged. I throw my hair in a messy bun, hoping I’m not a total wreck, then lower myself into the steamy water. My tense muscles ease, and I release a heavy sigh.
Moments later, Reece returns, carrying a stack of books. My stomach sinks. He’s going to hand me a book and walk out, avoiding my naked body like the plague. Weeks ago, I would’ve stood and enticed him with my figure, but I doubt six months pregnant is all that alluring.
He drops the books on the tile and twirls his finger. “Turn around and close your eyes.”
I stare up at him with furrowed brows.
He cocks his head. “You want me to join you? The bath isn’t your only surprise.”
I spin so fast, the water sloshes.
***
Reece
I lay a towel beside Aurora’s books for her to dry her hands before reading then take off my sling, shirt, shorts, and boxers.
My hard cock bobs between my legs, anticipation racing through my heated veins.
I step over the side of the tub, sink into the water opposite her, and rest my forearm on the tiled edge.
My arm isn’t immobile, but movement is painful, and I’m supposed to keep it in a sling for four weeks. The longest four weeks of my life. Then, there’s physical therapy, which I’m capable of doing myself.
She releases an audible exhale. “Can I turn around now?”
“You have zero patience.” I rake my fingers through my hair and remember I still need it cut. It’s shaggy on top and falling into my eyes. “Go ahead.”
The tub is massive—clearly, Jax was planning on the three of them bathing together—and she easily twists to face me.
Her gaze traces the contours of my upper body, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Can I sit with you?”
She’ll ask a million questions when she sees me up close. What’s this tattoo? What does it mean? What’s this scar? How did that happen? And I’m not in the mood to explain every injury and memory I obtained in the military.
There’s one question I know she won’t be able to contain, but I try anyway. “Yes—as long as you don’t ask any more questions.”
She raises a brow. “Can I kiss you?”
“That’s a question.”
She mimics zipping her lips and throwing away the key.
“Pick a book,” I tell her.
She dries her hands and chooses a book then nestles between my thighs and relaxes into my chest. Bubbles cover her body, only the swells of her breasts visible, until she reaches up to kiss me, offering a glimpse of full, glistening tits and peaked nipples.
My dick twitches. Her touch alone might make me come. This is the most action I’ve had since going on random Tinder dates before meeting her, which now feels repulsive to even think about.
I cradle the back of her head, deepen the kiss, and forget all about my time before her. Our tongues tangle, and she moans softly, rising on her knees to straddle me.
Abruptly, I break the kiss. “Read.” The word comes out raspy, not at all stern.
She releases a frustrated sigh, settles into my chest, and opens the book.
I hadn’t noticed until now, but she chose the smallest paperback. She holds it open with one hand while her other hand drifts to my inner thigh, caressing and teasing.
A shiver runs down my spine, my cock a steel bar between my legs. “You’re devious, you know that?”
I trail kisses over the curve of her neck, cup her breasts, and tweak her nipples. She whimpers and grinds her ass against me.
My dick throbs, and I’m too preoccupied salivating over her tits to catch her hand reaching between us to fist my shaft.
An involuntary “Fuck” slips from my lips.
She strokes my length, her palm grazes my Jacob’s ladder piercings, and she freezes, nearly dropping the book into the water.
Here it comes, in five, four, three, two—
She tosses the book to the floor and spins around, her mouth agape. “You’re pierced? Who did you get that for?”
I shake my head, a deep laugh bursting from my chest. “I knew without a shadow of a doubt that’d be your response.
” Encircling my uninjured arm about her waist, I guide her onto my lap, hoping to distract her with my cock—in a more pleasurable way that doesn’t have her scowling at me. “No questions, remember?”
“Tell me,” she insists, jaw tight and lips pouty. “You’re seven years older than me. I know hardly anything about you. You could’ve been married or engaged for all I know.”
“I haven’t.” My gaze is unwavering. “Like all my piercings and tattoos, it was because I wanted to. For the challenge, for the pain. Not for anyone else.”
She hangs her head and traces her thumb over the tiny bar in my nipple. She’s either mulling it over or sulking. Sometimes, I forget she’s only twenty-two…and sheltered…and spoiled.
“If you’re worried I’ve been in a serious, long-term relationship, you can stop.
I haven’t. You’re the only one.” I flex my hips, and the bars on the underside glide through her slit.
Fuck, she feels amazing, and I do it again, bumping over her clit.
“We could fight about it, or you could sit on my cock, but I don’t have the energy for both. ”
Her head snaps up, her expression shocked but her smile salacious. “I’d choose to sit on your cock any day.”
One hand on my shoulder, she lifts to line us up. I restrain her, tightening my arm around her waist.
“We can’t have sex in the bath.” Unable to stop, I suck her nipple into my mouth.
She gasps and rocks her hips, her pussy sliding back and forth over my piercings. “You’re such a buzzkill.”
I draw her other nipple into my mouth then take turns biting each one. “Your bed or mine?”
Her fingers weave into my hair. “Mine. It’s closer.”
I can’t resist grinning. Her husband will love that.