Page 92 of Crimson Tears

Cillian wrinkles his forehead.

“Are you insinuating that I don’t have full control of my violent urges?” He mockingly places a hand over his heart, in that silly way he always does, as if he’s actually offended.

Boris and I simultaneously respond with a resounding, “Yes.” To which Cillian shrugs, already knowing the truth.

I’m half worried he would try to shoot a fly if it pissed him off enough. He doesn’t need a weapon in the house. This is our safe space and weapons stay locked away until needed.

Well, locked is a relative term. There is a gun under the couch, in a secret compartment in the entryway, under the island in the kitchen, inside a dining room chair, and other strategic places in case of an emergency. It might be our safe space now, but we have the ammunition to ensure it stays that way if it’s ever required.

I’m not certain, however, that Cillian knows what an emergency really is, so I think Boris and I will keep the weapons’ locations to ourselves for a bit.

Cillian hands Boris a bath bomb and some salts. Once the temperature is warm enough, he adds them to the tub and swirls the water before helping me step in. Thankfully, the stitches have healed and I’m only left with some scabs at this point.

It still burns a bit getting in, so I take my time sinking down into the water. Once I’m up to my neck in bubbles, the mood in the room changes. I would think being naked in front of both of them would feel weird or vulnerable, but it honestly feels like home.

When both of them are with me, it’s like all the pieces to my puzzle are complete.

I relax back against the headrest, and Boris helps tie up my hair. I hear the squeeze of a bottle before warm hands meet my shoulders. The scent of eucalyptus oil floats around me as Boris massages my neck and shoulders.

The lights in the room dim, and the flick of a lighter is all I hear before candlelight starts to pop up all throughout the room. It feels so relaxing that I might actually fall asleep.

Bubble baths have been healing for me since two Christmases ago. I was alone on the island when Boris sent me a mountain of presents. The first thing I opened were candles and bubble bath. My friend Laney and I ended up making a bubble bath date with our gifts from our men and video calling each other. It was the first time I really felt like the people in my life were my family. I’ll never forget it.

A serene smile stretches across my face as the weight in my chest begins to lift.Dammit, Boris was right. All I really needed was a hot bath.

In here, I can’t remember the bone chilling pain I suffered in that cell. I can’t hear Cillian’s pleas or Boris’ worry as I endured hit after hit, cut after cut. I let out a deep breath and Boris laughs, knowing he was right.

“Don’t say it,” I whisper.

“I would never.” He leans forward to kiss the top of my head while still rubbing my shoulders.

I can feel eyes on me though. When I glance at the end of the tub, Cillian is there. His dark as night gaze laser focused on me. He almost looks like a demon with the candlelight behind him, but I know better.

Boris continues rubbing my neck and stretching out my shoulders. I take some long, deep breaths, helping my lungs expand to ensure I don’t develop pneumonia. The menthol scent from the bubble bath has my head feeling clear and relaxed.

When Cillian reaches into the water and takes my foot in his hand, I think I actually step out of my body for a minute. Whoever said orgasms were the way to a woman’s heart was wrong, a neckandfoot massage in a bubble bath is definitely the way to mine.

Boris moves to my scalp before helping me ease deeper into the bath until I am floating in the water. All of my worries are now gone, and I begin to believe the guys’ previous words. Wewillfind a way for this to work, we already are.

After a few minutes, Boris helps me sit up to wash my hair, and Cillian lets go of my feet. It feels like everything I never knew I needed. There was a shower in the hospital I used a few times, and I took one once we got home, but they had to be short because of my stitches.

I can already tell that this is helping heal not only my body but my soul as well.

Strong hands rinse the conditioner and massage my scalp before moving ever so gently lower towards my chest. Boris’ fingers graze my nipples, causing them to harden instantly under his touch.

“You better not be teasing right now,” I say in a low voice.

He chuckles right next to my ear and bends down, his hand sliding over my stomach until he is hovering right above whereI want him to be. When I lean into his shoulder, I feel his bare chest against my skin.

I know any attempt to thrust into his fingers will hurt like a bitch, so I wait. I know exactly what he’s doing. He wants to test just how far I’ll go for this release. And I have no doubt he’ll punish me if I cause harm to myself for an orgasm.

So I wait, like a good feckin’ girl. Even if it kills me.

“You better touch her or I will, Old Man.”

Boris’ fingers brush over my clit, adding pressure while moving in a small circle before he stops.

“Do you need to worry about dinner in the oven?”

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