Page 88 of When We Break

Beck’s rubbing my back, murmuring soothing words until I’m done heaving, and he sets the can aside.

“Okay, baby. You’re safe. I’m right here. Nothing’s going to happen to you, I promise.” He kisses my head, but I don’t feel clean yet.

“I have to wash my ear.”

“Your ear?” He frowns down at me.

“He k-kissed my ear.” The tears want to come, but I swallow them down.

Beckett’s jaw twitches as he grinds his molars together, but he’s so gentle with me as he leads me under the water and helps me wash my hair, and I rub my soapy hands over my ear, trying to get The Arsehole off me.

When the soap’s gone, Beckett moves closer and presses his own lips there.

“I’m right here, Irish,” he says, immediately soothing me. “Just me. You’re safe. It’s my lips here now, and they’re the only lips that will be here ever again. You think about that and only that.”

“Thank you.” I lean into his touch, pressing my hands against the sopping material of his white shirt, letting his words seep into me.The only lips that will ever be here again. Does he mean that, or is he simply trying to soothe me? Either way, it makes me feel better. “You’re still dressed, Beck.”

“Doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is you, baby.”

God, he’s amazing. “It’s wonderful, that’s what you are.” I swallow as he pulls me to him, and I cling, hugging him close, burying my face in his wet chest. “You’re bloodyeverything.And it’s sorry I am that I’ve ruined our night?—”

“No, baby. Shh. You didn’t ruin anything. I just need to make sure you’re okay and that you know that you’re safe. However we need to make that happen.”

I nod against him but don’t let go. “This is a lot, and our relationship is so new, and if you decide that you don’t want to deal with this, I understand.”

“Not getting rid of me. You’re not a fucking burden simply for existing, Irish.”

He doesn’t sound angry or frustrated. He sounds almost … bored with that comment, which makes me feel warm.

“How did he get in?” I ask at last.

“We’re going to find out,” he replies and buries his lips in my wet hair. “Do you want to dry off, or do you want to stay in here for a while longer?”

“You’re soaked, and this can’t feel good.”

“Hey.” He makes me look him in the eyes, and all I see there is …love.And it steals my breath away. “Don’t worry about me. I’m just fine. I get to hold you, so don’t think for a second that I’m anything but fine.”

“Maybe we can get dry.”

He nods, and turns off the shower before grabbing me a towel. He stands before me, this tall, strong man, soaked to the bones and still wearing his suit, which has to weigh a ton, but instead of taking it off, he’s drying me, soothing me with every brush of the towel and every press of his lips on my damp skin.

“Go slip into that fluffy robe,” he says as he unbuttons his shirt enough to slide it over his head, and it lands in a sloppy heap on the tile floor. “I’m right behind you. I’ll leave these in here.”

“Your suit is ruined.”

“It’s just a suit, Irish.”

I chew my lip as I push my arms into the robe and watch Beck as he peels the trousers down his legs and then his socks and boxer briefs. Finally naked, he reaches for a towel and brushes the terrycloth over his skin before stepping out and pulling me against him once more.

“I’m going to order you some tea,” he says, and that sweet gesture is all it takes for my eyes to fill. “You don’t want tea?”

“I do. That would be lovely.” I sniff and wipe a tear away. I have so much I want to say to him. I want to tell him that I love him.

Bloody hell,I love him.

“I just need to grab some dry clothes,” he murmurs, moving into the attached closet. He pulls pajama pants and a T-shirt out of his bag and slips them on, along with a fresh pair of white socks. When he returns, he’s dressed and looking so cozy, and I just want to curl into him.

But before I can, Beckett kisses my forehead, turns me away from him toward the mirror, and he picks up my comb. I look awful. My hair is a wet mess, my makeup is running all over my face, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

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