Page 92 of Meet Me In The Dark
My legs are still locked tight around him.
Neither of us speaks.
We just breathe harsh, uneven breaths in the humid air, while the water pounds over our backs. The tension doesn’t dissolve. Not yet. It just hums in the space between us.
Julian’s forehead falls to my shoulder.
I think he left something vital inside me, and he’s still unsure how to get it back.
Slowly, his hands shift. One slides up my spine while the other runs down the back of my thigh, soothing the muscles he just fucked into oblivion.
His grip isn’t punishing now. It’s careful in a way that punches something in my chest.
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. There’s nothing to say.
So instead, I just breathe him in.
Eventually, he puts me down while keeping a steadying hand on my arm.
Neither of us makes eye contact when he reaches for the body wash and pours it into his hand.
When he steps behind me and I feel his hands slide over my shoulders, I go still.
The soap glides over my skin in slow arcs, circling my arms, my ribs, my stomach. Every stroke feels intentional, like the touch itself matters more than the act.
I think he needs this part more than I do.
Closing my eyes, I give in and let my head tip back against his chest.
My scalp tingles when he reaches for the shampoo, lathers it between his palms, then threads his fingers into my hair.
A shiver runs down my spine, not from heat, not from cold, but from him. The quiet care. The silence. The absence of the man who wrecked me minutes ago. He’s still here, but not sharp right now, like the storm passed through and left nothing but wreckage.
“You okay?” he murmurs finally, voice rough.
I nod. “I’m good.”
His thumb brushes a faint mark on my hip. “Did I hurt you?”
Far from it.
Something in me still aches, but it has nothing to do with the marks his fingers left behind.
“No,” I whisper.
“I shouldn’t have—”
“You should.”
He goes still.
“I wanted it too,” I add quietly. “I neededit. All of it.”
His reply is a slow kiss right below my ear.
When I turn, his hands drop from my body like they weren’t ready to let go.
We’re face-to-face again. The high is gone, and in its place is something heavier, something neither of us has the words for.
