Page 117
Since that dark night, all I’ve done is run away from my feelings. Adopted ways that are unlike me, coping mechanisms that were slowing causing their own traumas day by day. When you overcome a traumatic experience, it either defines you, destroys you, or strengthens you.
My strength is kneeling at my feet.
Rooted by the bathroom sink, I stand bare and exposed, the steam from the shower fogging the bathroom mirror, and the man before me beginning to strip out of his clothing.
He reaches behind his back to remove his shirt. In one swift motion, it’s gone. No weak attempt at peeling it from his skin, no shaking hands steadying themselves just to have to try again.
Pure fluidity and strength. We stare at one another, eyes boring into each other’s with so much torment. How has it come to this? I went from trying to convince myself he was no different than anyone else to the only person I feel safe with, but we both know it’s been this way since the start.
From the very first night, he was safe, and that frightened me.
“You’re really sure?” he repeats, his hands falling into the waistband of his jeans.
“Yes.”
Jett releases the button of his pants and discards them with mine, so we’re both left bare in this cloudy room. In many ways than one. I take charge, pushing off from the sink, stepping in the direction of the shower, but it’s a weak attempt. And Jett is, of course, there to catch me. After eating the protein bar, I feel better, but the constant wear and tear I do to my body is all rearing its angry head today.
“Let me help.” His arm skates around my waist, his naked body suddenly flush with mine.
“I-I’m just really sore.”
“I know.” He gives no rebuttal to my excuse, only support. “That’s why I’m here.”
Jett opens the large glass door, and I’m thankful for the whoosh of steam that overrides the emotions clogging my throat.
“Is it too hot?” His voice is soft behind me as beads of warm water hit my fingertips. The moment I reach under the running showerhead, the heat calms my body instantly.
“It’s perfect.”
When we’re both inside, there’s a mix of awkward tension that has us both smiling before Jett shifts his focus back to me.
“Do you want to sit on the bench?”
The shower is covered in floor-to-ceiling brown lacquered tile, and the matching bench is large enough to fit the both of us comfortably. It looks promising, especially with how tired my body is, but I’m more tired of feeling helpless.
“I think I’ll be okay,” I mutter, letting water rain down on my skin.
“I’m right here. I’ll help with whatever you need.”
Looking at him again, my gaze travels from Jett’s beautifully sculpted legs, past his large and halfway hard cock, up to his sentimentally gorgeous face.
There isn’t a spot from his torso all the way to his collarbone that isn’t covered in artwork, yet somehow, the perfect glow of his skin still provides the most beautiful backlight.
He’s a masterpiece. How has he somehow gotten even more perfect?
For so long, I’ve told myself whatever I had to so I wouldn’t think about him. Remind myself how sought after he was, force myself to remember all the time I went out to find someone for myself, and I’d hear girls asking about where he was. Convincing myself that no matter how badly I wanted him, he’d always be exactly who his reputation made him out to be. But that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Trapping my thoughts in the back of my brain, I reach for the shampoo, pumping some into my hand before lethargically reaching for my scalp.
My thick hair is usually easy to manage, but lathering my strands tonight feels impossible.
As the liquid starts to foam, my whole head is covered with the jasmine-scented soap, and I use every ounce of strength I have to cover my head from root to tip. Vetoing the small massage I usually give myself, I turn toward the showerhead, giving Jett my backside so I can wash it off.
Before I can get my head under the spray, strong hands find a home on my scalp.
“Let me,” he presses, sinking his fingers into my hair.
My eyes widen as the pads of his fingers work my scalp in circular motions. Unable to suppress a moan, I let the sound escape as my head falls back into the strength of his fingers.
