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When I realized it was Dario I had shot at, I had felt horrified, immediately running to check on him, to confirm that he was safe.
A small corner of my mind had acknowledged that I should have shot him right then. There would have been no witnesses and I would have been free of him, just like I had wanted to be for so many months.
But all I had felt was overwhelming relief that he was safe, that I hadn’t hurt him.
“Thank you for not shooting me,” he said, his words echoing my thoughts too closely for comfort.
I looked away.
“Want a shower?” he asked me.
I nodded, and he pointed toward the spacious bathroom.
I felt wobbly. I figured it was exhaustion and an excess of emotion making me feel so unstable.
The shower was small, but big enough to be serviceable. As I turned on the shower, I put my head against the smooth tile and took a breath that turned into a sob. Last night was scary.
And I still didn’t know if the baby was okay. I was so scared. I sobbed harder, feeling so many emotions at once that I couldn’t focus on any particular one.
It was exhausting. I felt overwhelmed. I wanted to scream in frustration and cry at the same time. It was too much.
I tried to muffle my crying, but I guess he heard me from the other room. He knocked and then entered before I could say anything. I kept my head turned away from him.
“Are you all right?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I wasn’t all right. Far from it.
The water hit my face, and I waited until I heard the door close, but I never heard that sound. The next thing I knew, I felt hands on my shoulders and then a caress running down my back.
His touch was soothing and completely innocent. He massaged the tension in my shoulders for a while. Finally, he turned me around toward him. His hair was slick with water.
Droplets hung on his eyelashes. He pulled me toward him and just held me. For minutes, we stood there, with his arms wrapped around me.
I felt like he was lending me some of his strength. I closed my eyes, reveling in the moment. This man, for better or worse, had changed me. Something had shifted between us.
I could feel him harden against me as I lay against his chest. I shifted against his groin, loving the feel of his hardness touching me.
He pushed the wet hair out of my face. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”
I nodded, still unable to speak.
He didn’t hesitate as he picked me up. I raised my legs, wrapping them around his waist. The shower stall was so small that we were already snug against each other. A perfect fit.
He entered me gently, bringing his lips down to mine simultaneously. I groaned against his mouth as he kissed me. Finally, I could touch him like I wanted to touch him.
My hands were around his neck, then touching his chest, feeling the wide expansion of his shoulders. I couldn’t touch him enough.
His warm skin felt so good beneath my hands. He couldn’t tell me what to do right now. He couldn’t pin me down.
I let my hands explore his body as he pushed his dick into me, stretching me, filling me, over and over.
“You’re so beautiful and so brave,” he said, brushing his lips across my ear. The only sound I could hear was our ragged breathing and the sound of his skin slapping against mine as he dove deeper into me.
I arched my back, letting him go deeper, wanting to feel all of him, wanting to forget my fear and my desire to keep him at arm’s length.
He moaned as I gave him more room to slide in and out of me and I gasped as he sped up his strokes.
“You take me so well,” he said, his voice slightly rough in my ear, but his touch gentle. “I’ve never been with anyone who took me like you.”