Page 71 of From the Ashes

Tonight was rough for all of us for different reasons, and I refuse to let them think I don’t care enough to take care of their needs just the same way they take care of mine.

Bishop looks over his shoulder at us and gives me a tight smile. “Let’s get inside and get cleaned up. None of us are climbing into bed covered in this much dirt and blood.”

I turn to Kovu, expecting him to make a joke about that being how he likes me, but he doesn’t even acknowledge what Bishop has said. He just continues to stare down at where our hands are joined.

I squeeze his hand, and the move seems to get his attention because he looks up at me. “Let’s go inside,” I say quietly, not wanting to spook him.

He stares at me for a beat before he nods and opens the door, dragging me out behind him.

I follow him up the steps, but when he continues to the elevator rather than the door that leads to my bedroom, I realize he must want me in his bed, and that sets off butterflies in my belly.

It’s stupid. I’ve lived here for months, it shouldn’t make my cheeks heat to think he’d want me in his space rather than the temporary room that I should have vacated weeks ago.

The tension in the elevator is palpable, but no one points it out. We’re all too lost in our own thoughts, and maybe that’s a good thing.

When the doors slide open, Kovu guides me down the hallway and doesn’t hesitate to pull me into his room while the others each stop in the doorway.

Kovu doesn’t pause as he pulls me further into his space, never looking up from the task at hand. He crosses to a door on the left, and when he opens the doors and I see black tiles staring back at me, I follow after him, flicking a look over my shoulder at the others.

“Are you coming?” I ask, a sudden wave of anxiety rolling over me. What if the things Caleb said have given them second thoughts about being with me?

“Kovu doesn’t like people in his space,” Bishop explains as his gaze flicks around the room.

I sigh and press my eyes closed as I fight back irrational tears. We’re all safe here, at least for tonight, so why am I struggling to have any of them out of my sight?

Maybe because you all almost died, I remind myself, like I could forget.

“They can come in,” Kovu rumbles from inside the bathroom a moment before he reaches out and tugs me inside.

“Please stay,” I whisper before I lose sight of them.

Inside the bathroom, I’m surrounded by black and gray. The walls are covered in black tiles with light gray grouting to break up the darkness.

The dim light in the room is warm as I take in the gray basin and black sink before turning to see the black tub that’s more than big enough for the two of us.

I didn’t even know they made tubs in that color.

Kovu reaches for the water, and within a few seconds, he’s standing in front of me, a storm brewing in his eyes.

I take a breath to settle the nervous energy beating through my veins before reaching for his shirt. I tug it up, and he allows me to pull it over his head.

Next, I carefully slip my thumbs inside the waistband of his sweats and push them down, before taking a second to look him over in all his glory.

Kovu may not be the most traditionally attractive man, and I’m sure there are a lot of women that are scared of him based on nothing more than his size and the scars and tattoos that litter his skin. But to me? He’s perfect. He’s everything.

I lean forward and press a kiss to the center of his chest while keeping my eyes locked on his. He doesn’t need sex right now, but what he does need is tenderness, something I don’t think he’s experienced much, if at all, in his life.

His huge arms come around my back and press me to his chest, holding onto me so tight it borders on pain, but I lean into it.

If Kovu needs to give me his pain, I’ll accept it without hesitation.

I’m not sure how much time passes, seconds, maybe minutes, but I lap up every second of his embrace until he reaches for the hem of my shirt and quickly tugs it up over my head.

The cool air brushes over my bare skin, but then his hands are there. He unclips my bra without hesitation before reaching for the button of my pants, which he undoes with trained precision, something I try not to think too hard about.

Once we’re both bare, he tugs me under the water, and I flinch at the heat of it. I love my showers like hellfire, but this pushes even my limits.

I reach for the sponge and squirt some of his body wash onto it, taking a moment to breathe in the spicy scent that is so uniquely Kovu.

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