Page 41 of Gathered Sparkle

God, she’s so fucking exhausted.

When I’m sure she’s sitting upright on her own, I pull back to strip off my shirt, tossing it into the corner and tugging at the waistband of my jeans. I step out of them quickly, and my socks and boxers follow suit.

Her gaze barely registers my movement, her focus already slipping again. I unclasp her bra and slide it down, careful to avoid jostling her injured arm. But she winces slightly when I move it anyway, and my chest tightens at the movement.

“Sorry, Sparkle baby,” I murmur. “Almost done.”

Once her pants, panties, and socks are off, and her phone and matchbox rest safely on the sink, I guide her toward the shower, keeping my hands on her waist. I step in with her, supporting her as the water cascades over us. She leans back heavily into me, the back of her head pressing against my chest, and she shivers, even in the warm spray.

“You’re okay,” I say, more to reassure myself than her. “I’ve got you.”

“You always do.” She reaches down to grab my hand and slide her fingers between mine. “You’re my person.”

Fuckingfinally.

It’s like the angels themselves are singing a hallelujah chorus, their voices reverberating through every cell in my body.

She finally sees it. Acknowledges it. And not only in the fleeting, half-hearted way she’s done before, like she was scared of what it meant. No, this is different. This isreal.

My heart thunders so hard I can feel it in my fingertips, in the spaces where her skin meets mine.

“You’re my person too.” My throat tightens because it feels too big, too good to be true. The universe rarely gives me what I want, but right now, in this moment, she’s here,choosingme.

Even if Alaric had her heart first, even if Koen has a part of this, too, even if she finds solace in Nicholas’s arms, she’s letting me in, cracking the door open just wide enough for me to slip through to plant myself in the spaces she’s kept locked tight. And I’ll take that. I’ll take every inch she gives me, every breath, every heartbeat until she realizes I’m not going anywhere. I’ll patch the wounds others have left behind with my hands, my lips, my fuckingsoulif I have to.

Her fingers squeeze mine a little tighter like she knows the battle raging in my head.

She’s my person. And I’ll be damned if I ever let her forget it.

I let the water run over her arm, rinsing away the streaks of dried blood. The graze isn’t as bad as I feared, but the sight of her battered and vulnerable has something clawing at my insides. Her skin is cooler than it should be, her weight slumping into me like the strength’s been drained from her bones.

Grabbing the soap, I work up a lather and run it over her in slow, careful circles. I wash her arm gently, avoiding the wound, my thumb ghosting over the curve of her scarred shoulder. She feelsfragile, so much more delicate than I know she is, and it scares the hell out of me.

When I tilt her chin up to rinse her face, her lashes flutter, eyes half-opening. “Sparkle,” I murmur with my heart lodged somewhere in my throat. “Stay with me, okay? Just a little longer.”

She hums softly in response, her lips parting a little bit, and I press a kiss to them. The scent of my shampoo mixed with the faint, metallic tang of blood clings to my senses.

I move lower, my hands sliding over her back, her waist, the curve of her hips. I’m careful, so fucking careful. But it doesn’t stop the heat from coiling low in my gut, the way my body reacts to the feel of her skin, the shape of her that I know too well. It’s instinct, muscle memory that I can’t control, and guilt prickles beneath the surface. This isn’t aboutthat. Not now.

But God, it’s hard not to respond to her, with her curves fitting so perfectly against me. I clench my jaw, focusing on the rhythm of the water and the softness of her breath, willing my body tobehave.

She shifts, pressing closer, and I bite back a groan, the sensation of her against my hardening cock sending tingles through me. She doesn’t seem to notice, too lost in her exhaustion, but I feel every inch of where her body molds to mine.

Slipping inside her would be so damn easy.

Gritting my teeth, I force my focus back to the task. She needs me to be steady, to be her anchor. I can do that.I will do that.So, I let my hands drift down, washing the last traces of blood away until her skin is clean and smooth under my fingertips.

“All done, baby.” I press a lingering kiss to her temple, my lips brushing against her damp skin. The warmth of the shower clings to us as I guide her out, wrapping a towel around her body with care, mindful of her injured arm. Gently, I tuck another towel around her hair, brushing stray droplets from her cheek with my thumb.

“Come here.” I lift her into my arms and carry her to the sink, setting her down gently so her legs dangle over the edge, her toes grazing the cabinet below. Sliding open the cabinet door, I pull out my first-aid kit, stealing a glance at her. “This might sting.” She flinches as I disinfect the graze on her arm, her muscles tensing beneath my fingers. “Oh, come on. Tough girl can deck a cop in the face, but a little antiseptic is too much?”

The words echo what she said to me that night in her bathroom when she patched up my split lip.

Feels like a lifetime ago.

Her lips curve to let me know she remembers too. “I was trying to impress you with my bravery. But this fucking hurts.”

“I’ll have to be gentle then.”

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