Page 125 of Untamed

“I don’t realize how unnaturally huge you are until you’re squashed under a showerhead,” she says, her lips twitching.

I pinch her wet ass with my palm, and she squeals. “I’ll give you unnaturally huge,” I mutter before I grip her other cheek and knead. I bend and kiss her.

Water streams over us, the rhythmic sound of it soothing like rain on glass. She leans on my chest, her forehead pressed to my collarbone. My hand rests lightly on the back of her neck, fingers tangled in the wet strands of her hair.

I spin her around and tilt her head back. Her eyes close when I massage shampoo into her hair, suds it up, then rinse it slowly. Conditioner next, then another rinse.

I imagine we’re washing everything away. The memory of her assault. The lies between us. Anything that will tear us apart ever again.

Neither of us speaks. We don’t need to.

My chest rises and falls beneath her touch when she turns to face me, soap bubbling under her palm. I haven’t let anyone take care of me like this in… god, I can’t remember. My parents died when I was so young, and Rafail had his work cut out for him with a houseful of kids. We learned independence early.

I reach for her hand and kiss her palm.

“Thank you, little queen.” Her soft smile warms me through. When she draws closer to me, I stifle a groan. My cock stiffens between us, but this isn’t the time.

“Happy to see me?” she says with a smirk, her brow raised. “Or…”

I bend and kiss her shoulder when she yawns widely. “Always. But you’re exhausted.”

“Yeah.” Her voice is a breathy whisper.

“You have to stay awake until the pizza gets here, and then you can sleep for days for all I care.” She needs to eat.

“I can handle that,” she says on another yawn.

I turn her around to rinse her off.

It feels like we’ve walked through something we can’t really name—an unspoken battle neither of us wants to admit we were fighting.

It’s more than Shawn. More than her fears and mine. Neither of us does vulnerable easily—and yet here we are. We stand under the stream of water, bare in more ways than one.

I shift, reaching past her to adjust the water temperature. I move carefully, almost reverently, as if I could shatter this moment between us. But there’s nothing fragile about the way she turns to me and holds on, her arms about my waist.

Steam coils around us. My scars stand out against the warmth of my skin. Wordlessly, she traces one of them, brushing over it as if committing it to memory.

My hand covers hers, stilling the movement. My thumb grazes over her knuckles in slow circles.

Her fingers slide down my arm, stopping just above my wrist. Slowly, she traces the thick gold band on my finger. Her voice is quiet. “What if I don’t want temporary, Rodion?”

I bend my head, kissing her temple. “What if I don’t either?”

She draws in a sharp breath as if she wants to believe me, wants to believe herself, but can’t quite trust it all yet.

I brush the wet hair from her face. “Listen, Ember. I’m not going anywhere. Tonight was about survival. Survival is only the first step.”

She swallows hard, her fingers tightening around my wrist. We stand, wrapped in the heat and silence, letting the pounding water drown out the rest of the world until our skin is wrinkled and her stomach growls audibly.

I reach behind her and shut the water off just as a knock sounds at the door. “Food’s here!” Yana shouts.

She smirks. “Guess you really are staying, then. One way to keep you here.”

I smile at her. “Are you really afraid I’m going to leave, little queen?”

She holds my gaze for a long moment, searchingly, before she finally shakes her head with a sigh. “No. I don’t think you will.”

“Woman, you couldn’t chase me away if you tried.”

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