Page 113 of Unspoken Promises

The present is where happiness is. It’s where I need to be.

In this moment, with comforting water trickling down my head, Enzo becomes my past, present, and future all at once. Like he was made for me.

He massages my shoulder. Tension releases at the command of his fingers.

Even after all he’s been through, this man is so giving. He’s everything I try to be. Everything I want to be.

I close my eyes and enjoy the sensation. “Do you believe in soulmates?”

He runs his thumbs down from my shoulders along either side of my spine and then follows my lower back lines around to the front of my hips. His fingers play gently along the creases of my inner thighs.

“I believe it now,” he says, low and serious.

“Why?”

“You have the keys that fit my locks. And your locks fit my keys. It’s impossible not to believe we were meant for each other.”

I grab his hands in mine and smooth them from underthe water, up my sides, and leave them on my breasts. “I believe it, too.”

He massages my breasts, and I arch my back in pleasure, coming alive again bit by bit with every soft squeeze and roll of my nipple. I writhe against him, steam rising from the bath. In this small, protected cocoon, my pain and worry dissolves. The water envelops me, providing relief, and I take it. My mind traces his hands all over my body. I chase his touch back to where we were starting something beautiful, far away from our ugly pasts.

His shaft thickens behind me. I reach around to take it in my hand, making space between us so I can run my hand along his length.

He slides a hand down between my legs, the pleasure has me arching my back. He cups one of my breasts, and I’m swept away with every sensation around me. My senses allow me to ground myself, to live in this perfect present moment— the heat, his hand teasing along my pussy lips, the small drip of condensation dropping at my toe, and the smell… lavender and the scent of his cologne are desire and satisfaction at the same time, all bringing me right where I belong.

Here. With him.

He traces the shell of my ear with his nose, and I need him now. I spin around halfway so I can face him and press my lips to his.

His hot, wet lips lavish my own, tongue diving inside to explore. He holds me against him, and we embrace in a kiss so raw it’s more real than any that came before. I could stay forever in this kiss, but my stomach coils, and the place between my thighs is heavy with wanting…

“I’m ready for bed now.”

At that, in a cascade of water we both stand, and hegrabs two towels off a shelf next to the tub, vaguely wrapping me in one, not bothering with one himself as he can’t seem to stop kissing me again. Our feet tumble toward the bed.

We can’t keep our hands off each other, feeling, touching, massaging everything as if in some way we never believed we’d get this second chance. I’m exposed, tender and desperate, both to leave that past behind us and to race to the promise of a future.

I fall onto the bed, still dripping and hot and steamy from the tub. His hard body eases onto mine. The comfort of his weight is everything when his hips fall and his firm shaft angles between my thighs.

When his fingers smooth hair off my face there’s a devotion so pure it almost doesn’t align with the hunger in his eyes.

He peppers kisses down my neck, my collarbone, and his sensual mouth eases down on my nipple, sucking a mound of flesh along with it.

A low groan falls from my lips and the sigh releases any remaining tension in my muscles, in my mind…. I prop myself up slightly to rise, nipple glistening with his saliva.

His gaze drifts reverently over my skin, like worship. Do I deserve such praise? This man gave me everything, asking nothing in return. And yet in his world, I don’t feel needy. I’m needed.

The immaculate beauty of that thought consumes me and a silent, grateful tear rolls down my cheek.

Instinctively, he glances up from on my breast. “Are you okay?” His muscles tighten with worry.

I comb my fingers through his hair. “I was thinking how protected I feel.”

“Good.”

“Is it messed up, though? After all I’ve been through? Does that mean something bad that I like you being protective?”

All the talk of Stockholm syndrome made me wonder if I have deeper scars than I even know.

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