Page 100 of Blood & Snow
The water cascades over us as he thrusts, his hand steady at my waist while his breath warms the side of my neck.
My moans fill the space, louder now, as his rhythm deepens.
He presses closer, kissing the line of my shoulder, murmuring my name between thrusts.
The connection tightens until I feel consumed by him, surrounded by his strength and his warmth, holding me, refusing to let me fall.
He groans low into my neck, pace breaking as he follows through to his own release, spilling inside me with a shudder while keeping me steady against the wall.
His heat pulses into me and I shudder, squeezing around him as he bites down on my shoulder.
His handscontinue gripping my hips firmly as I take several deep breaths and rest my cheek against the cool tile.
The shaking has stopped.
The images of blood on snow seem farther away now, though I know they'll return.
"Will it get easier?" I ask.
His body retreats from mine briefly, but he returns, pressing his chest against my back.
"No."
"Will there be more?"
"Yes."
I close my eyes and absorb the truth of his answers.
There will be more death.
More blood.
More moments when I'll have to choose between my conscience and my heart's yearning.
"The children can never know," I whisper.
"They won't."
He pulls me out of the flow, turning off the water that is running colder now, then out of the shower entirely.
We dry off in silence, and he gives me one of his shirts to wear.
It hangs to my thighs, soft cotton that smells of his cologne.
In his bedroom, I sit on the edge of the bed, toweling my hair, and watch him dress in fresh clothes.
The routine appears so normal—choosing a shirt, pulling on pants, running a comb through damp hair.
As though we hadn't just washed blood from our hands.
As though he hadn't just killed a man while I watched.
"What happens now?" I ask.
He turns from the mirror where he's been adjusting his collar.
"Now you go home to your family. You help them with their tree. You pretend this didn't happen."
