Page 22

Chapter twenty-two

~ARES~

I carry her in my arms like she might break. Her breath’s soft against my collarbone, her body boneless from everything I just pulled out of her. Everything I took, gave back, and then took again.

I glance over at the untouched dinner, still sitting by the pool. I’ll put it in the fridge later; right now, she’s all I care about.

I carry her through the house and into my bedroom. She clings to me like she doesn’t know where she ends and I begin.

Good.

That’s exactly where I want her.

I lay her down gently on the edge of my bed, brushing a strand of hair off her face.

She knows everything now. Every crack in me, every ugly piece. It’s all on the table. The ball’s in her court, and all I can do is wait and hope like hell she tosses it back.

I lean in, kiss her temple, and move quietly into my ensuite bathroom. It’s all warm marble, matte black fixtures, and the scent of cedarwood and soap lingering in the air. I turn the knob, letting the water fill the big tub.

I want to wash her in something better than guilt and sweat and everything we just burned through.

When I return, she’s still lying there, small and soft against the dark sheets.

“Can I undress you?” I ask quietly, crouching beside her.

Her eyes shoot open, wide and worried, her mouth parting.

“I can’t take any more,” she stammers, and I can’t stop the chuckle that slips out of me.

“Not for that,” I murmur. “For a bath.”

“Oh.” She exhales, some of the tension bleeding from her shoulders. “Okay.”

I move slowly, peeling her clothes off her one piece at a time. Her body is flushed and marked from what I did to it. Now, I’m going to wash her and put her to bed.

When she’s bare and warm in my arms, I carry her into the bathroom and gradually lower her into the tub. She sinks into the water, wincing slightly as the heat hits her skin. Then she sighs, head falling back against the edge, eyes closing shut again.

I move behind the tub and kneel. The steam rises from the water, curling around her bare skin. She’s quiet, her eyes closed and head resting against the smooth edge.

I squeeze a dollop of body wash into my palms, rub it between my hands, and lay them on her shoulders. She lets out a breathy sigh as I work, massaging her muscles, kneading gently, lathering her in the scent I always use.

“It smells like you,” she murmurs as I continue my massage, and I smile behind her.

“Sit forward for me, little thing,” I whisper.

She obeys without hesitation, yet her movements are sluggish. I dip my hands into the water and then wet her hair, the strands sliding like silk through my fingers. I reach for the shampoo, rub it into my hands, and start working it into her scalp. She moans low under her breath.

“I’m sorry for not telling you,” she says suddenly, her voice small, hushed by the sound of water.

“I know.” I press a kiss to her shoulder.

I rinse the suds from her hair, letting the water run in soft rivers down her back. When I straighten up, about to move and grab a towel, her hand lifts and wraps around mine.

I look down, and she looks up, her honey-brown eyes hesitant.

“Get in with me,” she whispers.

A soft little plea. An invitation. And fuck me, I’ve never wanted anything more.

I strip slowly as her eyes follow every inch I reveal, taking all of me in.

I slide into the tub behind her, hot water wrapping around my body as I settle in.

“Scoot forward a little,” I instruct her, and she does.

I lower myself in, my arms resting around her, legs framing hers beneath the water. She immediately leans back into me like it’s second nature.

We sit in silence for a while, just breathing, the water sloshing quietly as her back molds into my chest.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t want me if you knew.” Her voice breaks the quiet.

I blink and slowly lower my gaze to the back of her head.

“I thought…” she pauses and exhales, “I thought if you knew, you would see me as a complication to your career. Something that makes everything harder. Something you’d want to stop.”

My hands float up from under the water and settle softly around her waist.

She turns in my arms to face me, bare and wet, eyes full of truth.

“I never meant to make you feel like you were a secret,” she says. “I swear.”

My chest aches. This whole time, I thought she was hiding me out of shame, that I was just her mistake to keep in the shadows.

But now I see it clearly. She wasn’t ashamed; she was scared of what I’d do.

And so was I.

I gaze at her. At this girl with her heart in her hands and her body pressed to mine. And I feel a heaviness loosen in my chest. Heaviness that’s been hurting for too long.

“So, we’ve both been scared of the same thing,” I murmur, brushing my knuckles down her cheek. “I was scared, too,” I whisper. “Scared that I was just a thrill to you.”

She stills.

“That once the rush wore off…once the secrecy stopped feeling good, you would move on.”

I stare past her, at the wall, into the past, into every part of myself that always expects to be left behind.

“I thought you’d see me for what I really am—broken and not worth the trouble.”

She shifts in the water until she’s facing me completely, settling between my legs. Her hands rise to my face, wet and soft. She cradles my jaw and kisses me sweetly.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers against my lips. “For making you think that. For making you feel like you’re just something to use and toss away.”

Her words slice through me. She turned around to look me in the eye and say it out loud. And I believe her.

I reach for her face and mirror her hands with mine.

“You can tell me anything,” I whisper. “Anything, Irene. I want you to.”

She closes her eyes and moves closer to me, bubbles sliding down her naked breasts.

“I want to know everything about you.” I tilt her face up. “All your big dreams and small habits. All the little things that make you you .” My thumbs brush her cheeks. “I want to know your fears so I can chase them away.”

She makes a broken sound in her throat and pulls me in, elbows resting on my shoulders, forearms wrapped around my head. I lean and kiss her, to taste her, to make her see that I’m staying, and that I’m begging her to do the same.

She sits back and sniffs, holding up her pinkie, just like earlier, just like the first promise she made and kept.

“No more secrets,” she whispers.

I look at her little finger, then back at her. Then hook my pinkie with hers.

“No more secrets,” I murmur, tugging her hand toward me. And then kiss her pinkie, sealing the vow.

I’ve been awake for an hour, maybe longer. I haven’t kept track of time, the view being more important.

Irene is still asleep. Her hair is spread across the satin pillow, one hand tucked under her cheek, lips parted, and her body bare and curled under the sheets.

I could watch her like this forever.

I want this. Every morning. Every night. Until the end of fucking time.

I then lean in and press the softest kiss to the corner of her lips. She stirs a little, but doesn’t wake.

I glance at the armchair where I neatly folded the clothes I got from Avery this morning. Rowan’s little sister didn’t ask questions; she just rolled her eyes and handed me a small stack of clothes with a smile. There’s a pair of leggings, a hoodie, and a clean sports bra.

Breakfast is downstairs: avocado toast, waffles, and coffee. I made the eggs twice to make sure I got them right.

I haven’t done that for anyone.

Ever.

I sit on the edge of the bed, careful not to wake her as the bed dips, but her lashes flutter open anyway.

“Hi,” she whispers, her voice hoarse with sleep.

“Good morning.” I can’t help the grin on my face, all teeth. I haven’t smiled like this in a long time. “You're gorgeous when you sleep.”

“Did you watch me sleep?” She smiles back, still blinking at me.

“Mhm.” I nod.

“You creep,” she laughs, stretching beneath the sheets.

God, she’s beautiful. Even wrecked, sleepy, and puffy-eyed. I lean in to kiss her, and she hums into it.

I pull back and motion toward the chair.

“I got some clothes from Rowan’s sister.”

Her eyes widen at the pile of clothes on the chair.

“Your other stuff…didn’t survive last night.”

She laughs again, and fuck if it isn’t the best sound I’ve ever heard.

“And I made breakfast,” I add. “I hope you like avocado toast and waffles.”

“I get both?” She giggles and sits up.

“My girl gets whatever she wants.”

And I don’t even realize I’ve said it until it’s out of my mouth.

She goes still, and golden-brown eyes lock on me like she’s trying to figure out if she heard me right.

“Your girl?” she repeats quietly.

Shit.

I pause. Not because I don’t mean it. I do, more than anything. But because I’ve never said it before, and I haven't asked if she wants to be… that.

I search her face, my chest tight, my pulse thudding.

“Is that okay?” I ask carefully, even if my voice sounds calm.

She doesn’t answer right away. She just shifts forward in the bed, still naked, still warm from sleep, and cuddles into me, her arms wrapping around my waist, her cheek pressed to my chest.

And then she smiles.

“More than okay,” she whispers.

My arms go around her, and I breathe her in. She smells like me, but under all that is still her familiar scent.

And for the first time in my life, I don’t feel like a burden.

We eat by the pool.

The sun’s already warming the stone under our feet, and Irene’s sitting in one of the dining chairs, her legs curled up beside her like she’s completely at home here.

She takes a bite of the avocado toast—my version, with chili flakes, a little lime, and a soft-boiled egg on top—and she hums.

“This is so good,” she says, wide-eyed. “You made this?”

I shrug with a smile, but inside, I light up like a Christmas tree.

“You have to teach me.” She grins, licking a bit of yolk off her lip. “And I’ll teach you how to make muffins.”

“Deal,” I agree, even though I know how to make muffins. “Do you have an issue with Rowan driving you to work today?” I ask, sipping my coffee.

“You’re not coming?” Her head tilts.

“Got a meeting,” I reply and take a bite out of my toast.

“Oh?” she frowns. “With whom?”

“My lawyer.”

She freezes, her toast halfway to her mouth.

“Why?” she asks slowly.

I lean back in my chair, resting my arm along the backrest.

“Remember that blond piece of shit at the club?” I ask, still chewing, and she nods. “Turns out he recognized me. And he’s a big LA Blades fan. Hates the Panthers.”

“No.” Her eyes widen.

“He filed assault charges a few days ago.” I shake my head, chuckling. “Livia called me screaming.”

“Are you going to prison ?” she gasps.

“I’m not going anywhere you’re not.” I laugh. “My lawyer will make sure of it."

“You’d look good in orange,” she teases, but I see the concern in her eyes. She thinks this is her fault.

So I reach out and grab the leg of her chair. In one fluid pull, I drag the whole thing toward me with her in it.

“Ares!” she gasps, hands gripping the sides as she slides across the smooth patio stone, her knees now brushing mine.

I just grin, leaning forward. “You wanna get fucked by a convict, little thing?” I murmur, my eyes locked on hers.

Her mouth drops open, but her eyes flash at the thought.

“You wanna put me in handcuffs?” I ask, my voice low, dark, and playful. “Or would you rather I put you in them?”

Her face flushes instantly, that perfect mix of scandalized and turned on.

“Ares, this isn’t funny. This is scary,” she counters, but that look never leaves her eyes.

“Good thing I’m scarier.” I smirk, brushing a crumb off her thigh.