Page 55 of What Lies Within

But I don’t. I step aside, let Digger get the water running, and do my fucking utmost to avoid my reflection in the wide mirror on my left.

I don’t want to see it. Don’t want the proof that the sticky, drying shit I feel in my hair was once inside a goddamn person. That it’s the same life source that runs within me.

A life Maddie took… to save me.

Everything’s to fucking save me.

I’m tired of being the victim. Exhausted. So goddamn sick of being the weak link in the chain.

I want it to stop. To end. The bad luck, the shitty choices, the bullshit outside my control.

I don’t realize how deeply I’ve spiraled until Digger clears the tears from my cheeks with his firm thumbs, sweeping them over the ridges of my cheekbones. His digits come away stained with blood, pinkened against his tanned flesh.

I almost vomit.

"Are you okay with me doing this?" His fingers grip the hem of my T-shirt, ready to tug it over my head.

"Please." I stay rooted to the spot, moving when he needs me to, lifting one foot after the other for him to remove my shoes. Then, my jeans. Until I'm before him in only my underwear, matted hair against my breast.

He steps back, the steam rising from the shower behind him.

I drink him in. All of him. Towering over me and yet I feel so damn safe. What once would have intimidated me—still intimidates others—is now my safe place.

The refuge I crave, even as I stand exposed and under his scrutiny.

His tongue peeks out to wet his lips, and then he does the same, stripping himself down until he stands before me in his boxer briefs. A perfect specimen of male beauty.

I lift an arm behind me and unclasp my bra, never once breaking eye contact as the cups fall away from my breasts. The lace hits the floor—my nipples pebble both at the sudden rush of warming air against the sensitive tips but also at the sharp intake of his breath.

Digger takes a step forward and cups one hand around the back of my neck.

His lips meet mine, his caress gentle as he explores my mouth, reassuring and hungry at the same time, fast and then slow, as though he can't decide which he wants more.

I’ll take him however I get him.

Forehead to forehead, he reaches for my panties, hooking both thumbs in the waistband and edging them over my hips while we both watch. Mesmerized by the inked hands that undress me. Expose me. Reveal me.

The scrap of lace tumbles down my legs, and I step free. Precious seconds pass, neither of us doing anything more. Only the gentle hiss of the shower and our labored breaths as we stare down at where our bodies nearly touch.

It's a precipice I can't wait to tumble over, yet I relish the moment for all its beauty.

Digger lifts his hand, fingertips brushing my waist with reverence. I tremble, unable to hold back the riot of sensation he offers as he walks the pads of his finger up my side. Until he reaches my ribs. Until he hesitates and then brushes my stiff nipple with his thumb.

It’s fucked up, what with the blood still on me. Transferring to him. But I wouldn’t rush this for the world.

Wouldn’t deny him this.

Or me.

I hitch my thumbs in his boxers and coax them over his hips, past the delicious V, and onto his thighs. His cock springs free, thick, and proud between us. It’s all I can do not to drop to my knees and taste the delicate drop glistening at the head when he steps free of his boxers.

Fingers beneath my chin, Digger coaxes me to look up, to meet his eye, his silent question held in the emerald flecks of his gaze.Is this okay?I nod and bring my hand to his throat, framing the thick column with my forefinger and thumb while I rest my palm against his collarbone.

With one jerk of his head, he urges us into the shower. His palm sliding against mine, he waits for me to step under the warm spray before he joins me, walling me against the tile with his broad form.

I feel secure. Cradled against him, my back to his front as he presses kisses down the side of my neck and across my shoulder. I watch the pink water swirl toward the drain, so fucking aware that Digger kisses me places I'm not yet clean. The fact he doesn't care—that he wants me enough to do it anyway—has me reach behind me to cup him in my palm.

Digger’s hiss against my nape doesn’t disappoint.

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