Page 40 of Into the Light

“Yes.”

My breathing quickened as his hands moved higher, inching up beneath the hem of the dress. He was so close to my core, but he didn’t venture there. Instead, he continued to trace those tantalizing patterns, watching me while moving his hands.

As the minutes passed, the room seemed to close in around us, and I was acutely aware of every sensation: the heat of his hands on my thighs, the rapid beat of my heart, the electric charge in the air. It was a touch I hadn’t experienced in what felt like an eternity, one that awakened a deep, primal longing within me.

As our gazes locked in a silent understanding, a potent current of longing flowed between us. In that intimate moment, we shared a profound desire that simmered beneath the surface, unspoken yet palpable. It was a yearning that echoed in the charged air around us, leaving me both exhilarated and trembling.

“Rain,” I breathed out, my voice sounding more like a moan than the initial warning I had intended it to be.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, locking his gaze on mine.

That was the question. Did I want him to stop? No. Did I need him to stop . . .?

He paused, as if reading the conflicting thoughts in my head, before pulling my dress back down. I didn’t realize I could feel like this again, that my body and mind had the ability to feel wanted, turned on, and desired by someone who wanted me.

But this was Rain, and Rain was so close tohim. I was disappointed in myself for not having a definite answer to give him.

“It’s . . . it’s complicated—”

He held up a hand. “I get it, Ember,” he whispered before turning away from me and adjusting his pants.

“Wait—” I giggled like an immature teen. “Are you . . . hard?” I asked, and he tossed a look over his shoulders.

“Of course I am, mi pareja. Jesus Christ. I just have to look at you and I am fucking hard.” He threw his hands in the air when he finished. “That’s the fucking problem.”

I laughed with him, and then he came back over to look at my hair. “Where did you learn how to do this?”

“The guy Tana was fucking admitted to what happened. I . . . convinced him to give me the instructions.”

“You hurt him?” I was surprised, because while Ash used physical force to get what he needed, Rain never struck me as the type.

“I did,” Rain confessed.

“It’s refreshing that you actually tell me the truth when I ask you a question. I never feel like I am digging for something from you.”

“I think that’s how it should be. My mom was always kept in the dark by Mr. Ortiz and my dad that when I was younger I promised myself I’d never become that way. I just feel like there’s no point in keeping secrets from you,” he whispered, and I grabbed his waist, opening my legs so he could stand between them.

I grabbed his chin, bringing him toward me, and something in the air shifted between us. It was hard to put into words or even explain, but I felt . . . safe.

“Thank you for making me feel this way.” I gestured around us, hoping he’d understand what I meant.

I didn’t know what was happening between us, but I knew there was something. I just didn’t think I was ready just yet to do anything about it. There was so much stuff left unsaid about Ash and so much I needed to tell Rain that it still felt too fresh.

“You deserve to feel this,” he murmured, and grabbed my jaw, tilting my head up. He pressed his lips against my forehead. It wasn’t a kiss, it was an intimate gesture, but it awakened something deep within me.

There was something to be said about the fact I had met Rain first. I’d kissed Rain already last year. I knew what he tasted like, what his lips felt like against mine, but it wasn’t what I felt in this moment; this was so much more tender.

“I need to wash the dye out of your hair.” He pulled away from me and shook his head before I laid back into the bowl of the sink.

“Does it look okay,” I asked as I could see the dark brown water falling into the bowl out of the corner of my eyes. He stood next to me, his fingers threading through my hair, taking care to clean it.

“Think so,” he responded but furrowed his brow as he rinsed my hair.

After a few moments, he gave me a towel and I lifted off the bowl, then he dried me off and turned me around so I could see myself in the mirror.

“I know it’s wet still, but I think we got most of the . . .”

I was in shock as he rambled. My hair felt more alive. The bright pieces were gone, and nothing felt out of place. Marissa was right. A good hair color could make me feel like myself, but little did I know that I needed my own prince charming to come to the rescue.

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