Page 127 of Ruthless Vengeance
My bra is next, and then Marco is on his knees before me, slowly tugging down my leggings and underwear until I’m completely bare before him.
I return the gesture, unzipping his hoodie and tugging his blood-splattered shirt over his head.
I pause when I see his split knuckles, covered in dark purple bruises and dried blood. He goes to pull away, but I take his hand and gently lift it to my lips, kissing each knuckle individually.
“I love you,” I whisper over and over between kisses.
Only when we’re both bare does Marco take my hand again, and he leads me into the shower.
The water cascades over my shoulders, and I turn my face up into it and close my eyes.
For the first time in twenty-four hours, I take a deep breath.
Marco’s arms are around me, and I lean back against his chest, letting the water wash away the bad memories, leaving only the one I wish to keep from tonight.
The one of Marco on his knees before me, asking me to be his wife.
When I eventually reach for the soap, Marco takes hold of my hand and presses a kiss to the inside of my wrist, making my breath catch.
“Let me.” His voice is gruff.
Marco grabs the soap and lathers his hands. He takes his time, washing my arms and then my back before kneeling down and running his hands over my thighs and legs.
It’s more intimate than sexual, as if he’s recommitting my body to memory.
I do the same for him, letting my fingers glide over his chest, feeling the ridges of his abs beneath them.
I scrub the blood from his knuckles last, and I can feel Marco’s eyes on me the entire time.
The weight of it all hangs heavy between us, of what he had to do, what I allowed him to do. For me. For us.
When the water finally runs clear, I reach up onto my tip toes and press my forehead to his.
“No more ghosts.”
His eyes close as he leans into me. “No more ghosts.”
I’m in his arms in an instant, with my mouth on his.
The kiss is searing and desperate as I part my lips, wanting him to claim my mouth and every inch of my body.
I barely register the water shutting off or Marco reaching down to lift me by the backs of my thighs. All I feel is him.
The heat from his damp skin, the way his hands never stop moving over my body like he’s trying to memorize me all over again.
Marco carries me through to the bedroom, and I cling to him as my body starts to ache with the need to be filled.
When he lays me down on the bed, there’s no urgency to his movements as he slowly climbs over me, his cock already hard and leaking, before settling between my thighs.
The weight of him on top of me feels grounding, and I gasp as his cock presses against my entrance.
Marco shifts his weight onto one arm as his dark eyes lock onto mine.
Neither one of us speaks.
All I do is arch into him, and that’s all the permission he needs.
He sinks into me in one slow thrust, inch by delicious inch, until I’m completely filled by him.
