Page 72 of All The Pretty Little Lies

His words, combined with a particularly deep thrust and a clever flick of his fingers, send me careening over the edge. My second orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, even more intense than the first. I cry out Oscar's name as my body convulses around him, wave after wave of pleasure washing over me.

Oscar follows me over the precipice with a guttural groan, his hips jerking erratically as he finds his own release. We cling to each other, trembling and gasping, as the warm water continues to rain down upon us.

As the last tremors of our shared climax subside, Oscar gently lowers me to my feet. My legs feel like jelly, and I'm grateful for his strong arms supporting me. The warm water continues to cascade over us, washing away the evidence of our passion.

Oscar reaches for the shampoo, and I close my eyes as he begins to massage it into my scalp. His fingers work through my long blonde hair, carefully untangling any knots. The scent of sandalwood fills the steamy air, and I can't help but lean into his touch.

"Turn around," he murmurs, and I comply, letting the spray rinse the suds from my hair. Oscar's hands glide over my body, cleaning every inch with reverent care. It's intimate in a different way than our lovemaking, soft and tender.

When he's finished, I return the favor, my hands exploring the planes and valleys of his muscular form. We take our time, trading gentle kisses and lingering touches until the water begins to cool.

Oscar steps out first, wrapping a fluffy towel around his waist before holding one out for me. I step into his embrace, sighing contentedly as he pats me dry. He presses a kiss to my forehead before leading me back into his bedroom.

I watch as he rummages through his dresser, pulling out a soft, well-worn t-shirt. "Here," he says, holding it out to me. "Wear this instead of your sweater. It's going to be a hot day."

I slip the shirt over my head, inhaling deeply. It smells like him. The fabric falls to mid-thigh, and I can't help but feel a surge of possessiveness at wearing his clothes.

Oscar helps me into my jeans, his fingers trailing along my legs as he pulls them up. Once I'm dressed, he gently turns me around, gathering my wet hair in his hands.

"Let me," he says softly, beginning to twist my hair into a bun. His fingers work deftly, securing the style with ease. As he finishes, a nagging worry resurfaces in my mind.

"Oz," I begin, turning to face him. "Where are Zaire and Alex? Z wasn't in his room when I checked earlier."

Oscar's expression softens, a mix of concern and something else I can't quite place flickering across his features. He takesmy hand, gently guiding me. The plush carpet sinks beneath our bare feet as he leads me to the edge of his bed.

“They found something, didn’t they?” I guess.

“Yes. I wanted to tell you last night, but by the time Z had called, you had already fallen asleep. You were sleeping so well that I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Zaire and Alex are okay, right?”

“They’re both fine. I checked in with Zaire this morning.”

A sigh of relief escapes my lips, but the look on Oscar’s face tells me there’s more he needs to tell me. “What did they find?”

Oscar takes a deep breath, his blue eyes filled with a mix of concern and determination. "Vesper, they found the records from your egg retrievals while you were held captive."

My heart skips a beat, and I feel the blood drain from my face. The memories I've tried so hard to suppress come flooding back. The cold, clinical rooms. The endless injections. The fear and uncertainty that plagued me every moment of my captivity.

Oscar's warm hand envelops mine, anchoring me to the present. His thumb traces soothing circles on my skin as he continues, his voice gentle but steady. "They attempted to create embryos multiple times, but according to the records, none of them survived until about ten months ago."

I suck in a sharp breath, my mind reeling with the implications. "Ten months ago?" I whisper, my voice barely audible. "What happened then?"

Oscar's grip on my hand tightens slightly, his eyes never leaving mine. "According to the records, two embryos were successfully created at that time. A male and a female."

I struggle to breathe, my mind reeling with the implications. Somewhere out there, frozen in time, are two potential lives. My potential children. Children created without my knowledge or consent, but my flesh and blood, nonetheless.

"Where are they now?" I manage to ask, my throat tight with emotion. "The embryos, I mean."

"They were stored at the clinic," Oscar replies, his grip on my hand tightening slightly. "But, Zaire and Alex checked the tank. They weren’t there.”

A cold dread settles in the pit of my stomach. "They weren't there?" I repeat, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Your file was accessed three days ago by a Dr. Ivanov. Does that name ring a bell to you?"

“No,” I shake my head. “They never used names, and always had masks on. They had me so sedated, I’m not sure I would have recognized myself if they'd given me a mirror.”

“I figured that would be the case,” Oscar nods, his thumb still tracing soothing circles on the back of my hand. "Zaire and Alex are staying in New York. They're trying to track the doctor down."

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