Page 202 of Ruthless Desires: Vol. One

“Then Oliver would be dead right now. Would’ve died years ago. Possibly me and Ell, too.”

She presses her fingers to her lips, probably trying to think of something to say. The realization on her face tells me that she’s getting it, even if she doesn’t have the full memory of almost losing Oliver.

“I know I shouldn’t hold what Oliver did against him,” I continue. “What almost happened all those years ago easily could’ve happened to you. I just wasn’t prepared to relive the fear. Running into that basement, seeing the both of you like that, I was…” I shake my head. “I never want to see anything like that again.”

“I’m so sorry, Rhett.”

I snap my head up so I’m looking at her. “No. No, I’m not telling you this to get sympathy out of you. You needed to know. Almost losing Oliver changed us.”

“I know,” she says softly.

I run a hand over my soaked hair. “I’ll fix things with him. There’s no way I couldn’t. I just need to… process, I guess.”

“I understand that.” There’s a weight to her words that you could only miss if you wanted to. And of course there is. She’s been through hell.

I watch her carefully. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ll be fine. I came in here to make sureyou’reokay.” She yawns, covering her mouth with both hands.

“Hmm. You should be sleeping by now.”

“Yeah, about that…” Sheepishly, she tugs at her now-soaked shirt. “Could you… sleep with all of us?”

“All of us?”

She nods. “Me and Ell and Oliver. And you.”

With a frown, I say, “All four of us in one bed? I don’t think that makes much sense.”

“I know it’ll be a little awkward. But I feel safest when I’m with all three of you.” Wren has been avoiding my gaze, but now she finally meets it. “And I know you and Oliver are fighting, but he needs you. And you need him, too.”

The thought of cramming all four of us onto a mattress doesn’t sound like a good way to spend the night, but how can I deny her? And, dammit, I don’t want Oliver to feel abandoned either. I’m hurt, but I don’t want to put him through any more pain.

“Okay,” I say. “We can try it.”

I get up and offer a hand to Wren. After hesitating for a moment, she takes it. We stand under the water together, and I push her hair back from her face. When she looks at me, she tentatively places her hands on my chest.

“Is this okay?” she whispers.

“Yes,” I murmur. “More than okay.”

Gently, I press my lips to hers. She melts into me, her fingers curling into my shirt. There’s something about kissing her that makes everything feel a little better. Her lips moving against mine are like a soothing balm to the burning hatred that has a chokehold on my soul. It fades, becoming more bearable in the moment.

No wonder we can’t get enough of her.

When we pull away, Wren’s eyes are still closed, and a soft smile graces her lips. She looks like she’s about to collapse from exhaustion, and hell, that’s how I feel, too. So I shut off the water, still keeping an arm around her waist for support.

“Shit,” I say, looking down at us. “We’re both soaked.”

She groans. “How many shirts am I going to go through today?”

Peeling my own over my head, I say, “Hopefully only one more.”

By the time I’ve stripped down to nothing, Wren is still gripping the hem of her shirt, frozen. The same haunted look that was on her face in the basement is back.

Fuck.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay. You don’t have to take your clothes off with me in here.”