Page 69 of Covetous

As soon as the door closes, I’m back in Victor’s arms, breathing him in deep, reassuring myself that he’s okay. “I was so worried.”

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t let him get away with hurting you.” Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, he stares down at me, his gaze full of love and fierce protectiveness. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Warmth spreads through me as I pull him close and kiss him, trying to pour every ounce of relief and adoration into the press of my mouth on his. As I cup his face with my hands, I notice a slight bruise blooming on his left cheek, the unmistakable mark of a fist. “Come on,” I say, taking his hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

We head upstairs to the bathroom, and I grab the first aid kit. As I clean his cuts and bandage his knuckles, I can’t help but wince every time he flinches, hating that he’s in pain because of me. “I’m sorry,” I murmur, my voice thick with emotion.

“It’s not your fault,” he says softly, catching my hand in his, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on my skin. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant keeping you safe.”

Tears spill down my cheeks at his words. “I don’t deserve you,” I whisper, my voice hitching.

He cups my face in his hands, his gaze intense as his eyes bore into mine. “You deserve everything, Skylar. Everything. You hear me?”

I nod, taking in a shaky breath, overwhelmed by the emotion in his voice and the certainty in his eyes. “Yes, I hear you.”

Once I’m finished patching him up, I turn on the shower. We undress each other, savoring every brush of skin on skin, every touch a reassurance that we’re together, that we’re okay. This isn’t some quick hookup or a dirty little secret. It’s a moment of love and connection, of finally being free to be together. Sure, our being together will catch some people off guard and upset others, but it’s all worth it in the end.

The last of our clothes hit the floor, and he pulls me in for a kiss, sliding his hands up my face, his fingers tangling in my hair. “Stay the night?” he murmurs against my lips, his breath hot on my skin.

“Most definitely.” I take his hand, the one that’s not quite as beat up, and tug him into the shower with me. The steamy water pours over us, making our hair stick to our heads as we stand there, face-to-face, lost in each other’s eyes. I grab his body wash and pour some into a washcloth, breathing in the scent that’s him, the scent that means home and love and safety.

I run the washcloth over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle, marveling at his strength—his beauty. I work my way up to his shoulders, digging into all the tight spots, trying to rub away the tension, the stress, and the soreness. Then I step behind him, letting the washcloth fall from my hands and pressing my palms against his back, kneading the firm muscles there, pouring all my love and gratitude into my touch.

As I massage his back and neck, I feel him start to relax, the day’s stress melting away under the warm water and my touch. He lets his head fall forward, a low hum of pleasure escaping his lips. “That feels amazing, baby,” he murmurs, his voice tired but content.

As I work the last of the tension from his muscles, I lean forward and press a soft kiss to his inked shoulder blade. “Thank you, again, for having my back.”

“I’ll always have your back. I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Warmth radiates through my chest, and I slide my arms around his waist and press my cheek to his back. “Me either. I’m in this.”

He covers my hands with his. “We’re in this.” His words are a promise, and I know that no matter what comes our way, we’ll face it together. Always.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Three days have passed since I started hiding out at Victor’s place. Part of me never wants to leave, but I know I can’t stay here forever. Tonight, we’re lounging in his bed, naked under the covers, after devouring takeout. Victor noticed the weight I’ve lost in such a short time with some concern—he loves my curves—and unlike Ian, he doesn’t criticize my body or control my eating habits. The remnants of our feast still litter the kitchen, a testament to the simple yet perfect moments we’ve shared.

“I need to go home,” I say, even though I don’t want to leave the warmth of his bed. I never thought I’d be okay sleeping in the same bed where Esme once slept, but there’s no trace of her in this loft. It’s like she was never here at all.

“Or you could stay,” he suggests, pulling me closer to him.

“And wear what?” I raise an eyebrow.

He shrugs. “Nothing. It’s worked out fine so far.”

“True.” I snort, grinning. He’s not wrong. With all the spontaneous sex we’ve been having, clothes have been pretty much unnecessary. Plus, with Isabella moved out into a highrise condo downtown, we haven’t had to worry about anyone walking in on us. It’s been like a vacation, just the two of us in our own world. The only interruptions have been a couple of calls from Quentin about the charges being dropped against Victor and whether I wanted to press charges against Ian.

I told him no, even though a part of me is still reeling from the shock and hurt of Ian hitting me and spitting in my face. I’m not just angry about everything that’s happened; I’m sad that things came to this point.

Victor’s eyes meet mine, a flicker of worry in them. “Will you call me tonight if you need me?”

I rest my head on his chest, the bruise on my cheek still tender from Ian’s slap. I catch Victor looking at it sometimes, and I can feel the anger radiating off him. “I will,” I promise. As much as I want to stay in this bubble with Victor forever, I know I can’t. I have to face Esme. I also need to tell my family that the wedding is off—a conversation I’ve been dreading.

“If shit goes sideways, pack your things and come back tonight.” His hands slide around my hips, settling on my ass.

Nodding, I raise my head from his chest and kiss him deeply. His tongue sweeps inside my mouth, tasting and licking, before he sucks on my bottom lip. A moan escapes me as he grips my ass cheeks, kneading and pulling them apart. The absence of our clothes makes it easy for him to wet his finger with my arousal before sliding his digit down the seam of my ass and into my puckered hole.

I kiss him even deeper, grinding against his erection and his finger. It burns a little, but it also feels amazing, and I don’t want him to stop.

---