Page 69 of Judas (The Lito Duet #2)

Chapter thirty-four

Babalon

“ B aby…” Kace’s voice is lower, softer, and cautious.

As if I’m going to spin around and take everything out on him—everything that Lucien said.

The guilt, disappointment, and self-loathing setting high in my shoulders and bunching in my neck.

When I should be relaxed after what happened in the living room.

In a way, I am. Joints don’t feel so tight, there’s a little bit of airiness to the way I move—hell, my breathing has changed.

The moaning and manner which Kace had my body doubled must have both extended my body and cleared out a heaviness that's been suffocating me for years.

You haven’t had truly fresh air since you were little, Nadia.

I’m refusing to turn and give him my attention, because he technically did nothing wrong.

Other than being overwhelming—ironic when I used to be the overbearing one—he’s not the problem.

Plowing through the room as steadily as I can, legs still a bit wobbly thanks to how well he manipulated my body, the lush carpet mutes the sounds of my padding feet.

I’m wound tight mentally and it’s ruining how fucking good my frame feels.

Grabbing the doorknob to the bathroom, it twists in my hold before I push it open.

Met with the sheer size of it, the black and cream colored interior is suddenly just intense and unbearable as the way my life feels—like it’s crashing again.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to block out the things around me, tensing when Kace comes up behind me.

Why is it, just when I find the people I’ve missed… needed… for the majority of my life, the desire to be alone takes me by surprise.

At first he doesn’t say anything, but I can feel his eye roam over me from my mussed hair down to the tight way my shoulders are set under a sweat-dampened shirt.

Fingers wiggle and clench at my sides as my head tilts forward.

I’m so tired. I thought leaving Bluitt, being released, was going to be a part of my life that opened doors I’d always assumed were nailed shut for me.

Family, being the biggest hope of mine. Would you… would you just look at this shit?

There’s a scream sitting in the hollow of my throat, waiting to rip out of me and let the world know that I am NOT okay.

Not one of pleasure, of joy, no. One that tells the world I’m done and can’t take it anymore.

A scream that will send birds flying out of their homes to flee the treetops, rattle glass.

My therapist told me that some intense emotions require outbursts like that to expel the energy, to get it out since the human body wasn’t created to feel such consuming sensations.

We’re communicable creatures, she would say.

When we don’t have the correct outlet, we bottle everything up until the pressure is so great the protective barrier breaks and we damage things around us—sometimes, good things. That’s where I’m at.

My heart aches for the boy Lucien was, the girl who I had a glimpse of just before my world shifted when Kaleb died.

The man Kace was before his murder and the baby I gave up only for her to be wounded, too.

Each and every one of us have had the shittiest hand in life, and maybe Lucien is right.

Perhaps it’s best that this family line does end before we make more mistakes that damage the innocent people who come into contact with us.

Ready to crumble to the floor, I almost do when Kace’s arms wrap around me.

One slings low to circle my waist, the other is braced under my own arms, angling across my chest up to my opposite shoulder.

A seatbelt of sorts, strapping me to him so I don’t spiral out of control.

Holding me steady to him, the strong beat of his heart can be felt against my back.

Shockingly, it doesn’t help my emotional state.

Despite his physical support, I’m still falling to pieces inside—the pillars that used to hold me up have tipped over.

Leaving the rawest parts of me vulnerable like a living breathing Parthenon.

“I’m here,” Kace utters into the crook of my neck. Tightening his embrace as if to vice grip my clinking shards together.

“I… I know.” My voice seems foreign. Not my own, not Nadia.

“If you need to fall to pieces, I promise I’ll catch all of them. Then, when you’re ready, we can put them back into place together.”

My chin starts to tremble when he goes quiet, refusing to let go, unwilling to abandon me.

Why is it he always has the right things to say to me?

The same shit that simultaneously makes me feel gooey inside and also hurts.

Speaking from his heart, somehow helping me experience his truth in ways I’m not able to explain.

Wishing I had half the strength to tell him everything I feel, how I changed so much with and without him.

How much I care for him and need him so I may finally be whole.

Parts of me were missing, and now that they’re not, I don’t know what to do with them—so, I buckle under the pressure.

Had I known being complete was so heavy, I might have chosen to run the opposite direction.

Here I am though, cocooned in the arms of a man who had all the opportunity in the world to escape me but chose me just as I chose him.

“Let’s take a shower, hmm? Give you what I’ve not been able to in the past. Show you how much I fucking love you.”

Without protest, we move effortlessly together, closing the distance between us and the shower.

Unwilling to let me go just yet, Kace keeps one arm bound around my torso as he pushes the glass door to the shower stall open with a soft murr.

The wheels allow it to slide along the metal support structure and glide open without resistance.

We move together like one solid unit—he leans, I lean, he reaches, I stretch with him.

This is us… as we were meant to be.

Once he gets the water turned on, he finally releases me and begins peeling my clothes off again.

Deft fingers take the hem of my shirt into his grasp and lift it up, knuckles dragging along my ribs and sides of my tits on the upward pull.

Dropping it to the floor, he works on my leggings next.

Pushing them down from my hips to my thighs, knees, calves, until I’m able to step out of them and he kicks them away. Leaving me bare and vulnerable.

When he comes back up, Kace stalls to press a kiss at the base of my spine, right before my tailbone curves further into my pelvis.

Tender hands glide along my skin, caressing the dips and edges of my hips before cradling them.

His fingertips press more firmly into my flesh but it doesn’t hurt, more grounding than anything.

“Go ahead and get in, I’m on your heels,” he comments, pushing another kiss to the back of my head this time.

I find myself not wanting to allow that space to exist, which is contradictory as hell when it was only a few minutes ago I craved to be alone.

I concede though, taking hold of the handle next to the open glass door and stepping inside.

The water is already warm enough to chase off the lingering chill which has found its way into my bones following my orgasm.

Heat cascades over my skin, burning at first only to fade into something more bearable.

Under the torrent, the water seeps into my hair and trickles down my body in hot rivulets. Leaving paths of pink skin in their wake—it’s so good. The heat of it all soaking through my flesh and taking up residence in my aching muscles.

Without realizing it, Kace has joined me.

He guides the soaked locks of my hair out of my face.

Giving himself a better look at me, though my head is tilted forward where I stare at the black tiled floor.

Barely able to see the movement of the water as it gathers and starts to migrate to the drain which runs along the back side of the shower.

Gathering all of my hair at the back of my neck, he wrings the water out, letting it rest along my spine.

What he’s doing feels abnormal after taking care of myself for the bulk of my life.

Dad stopped tending to me, helping me wash my hair or making sure I had simple necessities such as shampoo and soap when I was little.

I didn't think much about it then. That changed when I got older and started to do everything on my own—buying my own products to ensure I had clear skin, healthy hair, and was all around clean. He used to have this mentality where I owed him for simply being alive. That if it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t even exist. While I went through some shit, I never wanted to leave home, despite knowing there was something far better out in the world for me. Look at me now.

Kace… even with this personality, these behaviors and mood swings, he still knows what I need and when to give it.

Caring for me when doing so wasn’t ever his responsibility.

Standing in silence, Kace gathers the body wash sitting on the ledge to our left, placed in a wall recess by the previous tenant.

Kace doesn’t ask for direction, preferences, concerns, nothing—he just washes me. Starting at my neck, he makes his way down over the curves that have matured, skin that has stretched which I hate, all the way down to feet and toes that have walked me through this world in emotional isolation.

As he comes to the end, he detaches the shower head and begins to rinse the suds off my frame.

Some of them tickling on the way down, others fizzing and eventually swirling down the drain to never be seen again.

The snap of the shampoo bottle comes next, then his hands are in my hair, working the foam into my scalp with a slight scrape of his nails.

Naturally, my head tilts back, sighing under his touch.