I didn’t leave Drew alone for a second, my fear of him changing his mind becoming too much. I moved us to the bathroom, my free hand reaching for the shower, flipping it on until the hiss of water filled in the silence and the steam slowly began to rise.
When I turned back to him, he grabbed my wrist and held it in between us. “Do you remember the first time we ever fucked?”
“You think I’d forget that?”
“I think I was more stable then,” he admitted quietly before he used his free hand to trap my chin between his thumb and finger. “Bring me back,” he whispered. “Wash me clean again. Just for tonight.”
My chest rose and fell with the intensity of the breaths I was dragging in. I studied Drew’s features for only a moment longer before my hands moved to undress him. Bit by bit, his clothes came off his body and pooled at our feet, leaving a bruised and bloodstained canvas of flesh. Even like this, he was gorgeous, and I struggled to tear my eyes away from him. I somehow managed eventually, and I quickly undressed before I opened the door to the shower and pulled him in behind me.
He moved where I moved, and for the first time since Harry’s death, he didn’t look away. Drew was a force of nature in this world; a hurricane that tore through your life, picked you up, and either kept you in his grip forever or spat you out like you were no good. He rarely looked weak, but I’d seen him that way several times during our time together, and I knew how special that made our connection. I understood the position I held. I felt that crown upon my head, and I cherished every significance it carried with it.
His dick became hard instantly, but his eyes had the lingering sadness to them. He just couldn’t pretend he wasn’t turned on when we were together any more than I could.
“I love you,” Drew said roughly as the water cascaded over his head, drenching his overgrown hair until it stuck to the edges of his face. Droplets dripped down his nose, falling over the curves of his slightly swollen lips. Drew’s hands found my hips, squeezing tight before he let his silky wet hands slip around to the top of my naked ass. Every touch had an edge to it, but I didn’t overthink it. I was his anchor. He could hold on like I was saving his life. It’s all I ever wanted to do for him.
I didn’t break eye contact with him now I had his attention. I endured his sadness and pressed my hands against his shoulders. “I love you, too.”
I reached for the soap, my breaths beating against his chest and washing back over me as I brought it to his skin. He twitched the moment I made contact with him again, but I pretended I didn’t notice, choosing instead to run my hand to the back of his neck as the other made gentle strokes over his skin. I watched every inflection, every wince as I passed over bruises. I took in his slightly panicked breaths and quiet grunts of appreciation as I worked. I hid my own worry, my own panic, my own selfish needs to keep those walls from falling down around him, once again. As I slowly worked the soap down toward his hips, I pushed up on my toes, fisting the back of his wet hair so he couldn’t escape what I needed to say next.
“You’re mine, Drew, and you will come back to me. No matter how long it takes, I promise I’ll always be here waiting.”
His lips parted, a set of words dangling off the edge of his tongue before he swallowed down and ground his teeth together, closing his eyes and flaring his nostrils. Drew was in pain, both on the outside and on the inside. He’d opened himself up to me too much in all the time we’d been together for him to hide that anymore.
“You shouldn’t wait for anyone.” His eyes opened slowly, focusing on me with all that he had as water dripped from his lashes. “You’re better than that. Too good for this life.”
“It’s a good job you don’t make my decisions for me then, isn’t it? I know how lucky I am to have you. I feel it every morning when I wake up and see you sleeping next to me. Every time I look down at my finger and see that ring you gave me, all I see is our future. I’m never going to give up on you. I just need you to never give up on us. Do what you have to do, but remember... I will always be here waiting.”
I stepped closer to him, the motion pushing us both against the tile of the wall. I could feel the strength that was buried deep inside of me bubbling to the surface. I felt it culminate and knew that it was shining up at him, whether he wanted to see it or not. That was the strength he’d given to me when I was broken. Those were the bricks and mortar he’d set in place, ensuring that when this moment came, I would be able to offer him the same.
“You’re mine, Drew Tucker,” I whispered.
“When did you get so tough?”
“When you started sharing your strength with me. When you started to love me.” My hand on his hip slid to his stomach and down to his erection. I dropped the soap, forgetting any pretense of washing him physically.
We’d moved to the emotional.
Drew glanced down between us, watching every movement of my palm and every twitch of my fingers around him, his lips parting as he lost himself to the reality of us being close again.
“I’ll never stop,” he pushed out, running a single hand up and down my spine until it reached the curve of my neck and he dug his fingers in, bringing to life a sweet pain that only he could bring. “I’ll never stop,” he repeated to himself.
That made two of us.
Drew Tucker hadn’t just invaded my heart—he was running through my veins and implanted in my soul. He surrounded me. Tonight, he was mine again, and as I stroked the length of him, I watched him react to my touch. I wasn’t sure how long this would last, how long he would stay with me, but I had his full attention for now. He wasn’t sharing me with his grief. I was going to relieve him of that and his guilt. I would consume his hunger for retribution and replace it with a hunger for me, for us.
His head fell back against the tiles with a thud, his eyes closing as he let his shoulders and body relax, his hips arching away from the wall so he could slowly begin to thrust his hips in time to my strokes. There were subtle moans and groans of appreciation rumbling in his throat, a no doubt welcome relief from the tortured headspace he was used to as I took him away from it all.
We moved together, his hips, my hand, the speed increasing, our breaths building until it drowned out the sound of the falling water. Just listening to the satisfaction, no matter how quiet, aroused me. My lips found the stretched skin of his neck, kissing, licking and nibbling it. I’d barely made it to his Adam’s apple when I felt him tense, a growl rising from his throat, feral and wild. His hands dropped immediately to my hips and his fingers pressed against them with bruising force as he spun me away from him and physically moved us.
I barely had time to register the change of our location, but the moment he pushed me from the small shower toward the sink and vanity, I knew where this was going. One of his hands moved to grip the back of my neck with the same bruising force he was using on my hip. He squeezed the flesh and pushed me down so I was bent over the sink and we were staring at one another through our reflections in the mirror. It only took another breath for me to realize that this was going to hurt: emotionally, physically and erotically.
I could see his promise of brutality in the tensing of his jaw and the narrowing of his eyes.
I didn’t fight him now that I understood where he was going with this. I welcomed the raw animalistic nature that was driving him. Releasing my neck, and satisfied I would stay there, his hand fell back to my hip, reestablishing the bruising grip and lifting my ass high enough to force me to my toes. I took the incentive and pushed my ass up in a promise of forever, holding his glare through the mirror as my stomach clenched in a strange mix of concern and anticipation. If he thought this was going to be the moment I realized there was no saving him, he was wrong.
He was so very wrong.
Oh, I wanted him, all right.
I wanted him so badly that I would take him any way he chose to give himself to me.
Even if that choice made me a masochist.
His eyes stayed fixed o
n mine as he drove into me with a wild force, lacking any of his usual tenderness or his playful, light touches. He was an animal, using me to gain what he needed. A low grunt of arousal filled the air, and that’s when Drew tore his eyes away from mine and chose to look down at his dick pushing into me over and over again. His jaw ticked. His eyes narrowed. Every sharp muscle in his arms and chest tensed, and his rhythm picked up like it was never going to stop gaining speed... until he raised his hand and swiped down hard, immediately whipping back up on my ass cheek to counteract the harsh sting with another.
The immediate slice of pain against my skin made me inhale heavily. The sudden, brutal hum sank below the skin and rushed across the surface like a constant reminder of what he’d just done. Yet, my breath exhaled tangled in a moan of pleasure that I hadn’t expected. A moan that only made Drew take me harder.
Reaching out, I slapped my palm against the mirror in front of me, covering where my reflection stared back. It stopped my thighs from riding that brutal corner of the vanity, and it made sure that my confusion wouldn’t be played back to me when I remembered this moment between us. The bracing also gave me the angle I needed to push back against him, daring him to give me more, to take me harder, to make me scream his name like he knew I would.
That was the only predictable thing about him. It took him a second to switch his angle, and I couldn’t do anything but ready myself as much as I possibly could when he leaned forward, pressed his chest to my back and hooked a strong arm under my stomach. His other hand rose to grip my chin and forced me to look at the two of us together.
“This is what you want,” he panted roughly, staring into my eyes.
Drew’s body worked with a violent force even I hadn’t known he was capable of, and as I felt his thrusts get harder, faster, I saw his eyes darken, too.
“Watch me come back to you,” he growled in my ear.
He slid almost all the way out of me, the tip of him flashing for a brief second before he pushed himself in with a brutal crash of our bodies as we came together. I cried out, his name coming effortlessly, but tainted with the edge of pain as I felt the spots on my skin ache from the way he’d just fucked me.
He came with another rock of his hips and released my face, allowing my head to drop against my outstretched arm as I tried to catch my breath and stop the silent sob of confusion that desperately tried to break free.
Chapter Four
DREW
My ass tensed as I slowly rode in and out of Ayda, staring at her tortured and confused face.
That sex had been phenomenal, but the high of it was taken away the second I heard the gentle hums of her sadness try to hide her tears.
A cold chill spread up my spine, contradicting the toe-tingling high I was still coming down from. I could feel the results of her orgasm coating my dick, as well as my own, but none of those dirty, delightful post-sex turn-ons were working for me as I held her in place and tried to catch my breath.
I swallowed with regret, the ball of pain like knives trailing down my throat.
I shouldn’t have gone too fucking far.
This was Ayda. The one thing, the one person, the one reason I had in life to keep going. Why couldn’t I stay on one straight path with her?
Because grief is the one thing that has always fucked you up more than anything, idiot, Harry and Pete cried to me in my mind.
Closing my eyes, I gritted my teeth and released her chin from my hold. As carefully as I could, I held onto her bright pink hips and slowly pulled out of her, feeling the way her body buckled in my grip.
“Stay there,” I told her with as much tenderness as I could muster, despite the hint of regret tainting the edges of my broken voice. Ayda barely moved. Whether that was because she didn’t want to or because she couldn’t, I didn’t know. I just knew I had to try to make things right before I got the fuck out of there.
Reaching around her, I turned on the faucet for the hot water, dipping a hand under it while my other hand held her hip in its grip. I didn’t know if it would help, but all I could see was her sadness and my hand and fingerprints on her skin.
She deserved a bit of tenderness.
When the water felt warm, I cupped some in my hand and gently trailed it down her spine. The rivulets fell down either side almost immediately, so I repeated the action, collecting more water and pouring it down the lower section of her back, trailing my fingers lighting over her skin with reassurance. I couldn’t bear to look at myself in the mirror again. She was my focus. When I’d soothed her spine, rubbed my palm over every inch of flesh, including her stained ass cheeks, I cupped my final handful of water and brought it down between her folds. Then I held it there, massaging the front of her as much as I could and rubbing my palm back and forth. Her ass rose once before she let out a sigh and her legs began to shake beneath her.
“I’m sorry,” was all I said.
“I’m not.” Ayda lifted her head from her arm, sucking in a deep breath as her hands dropped below her to keep her body steady, her gaze meeting mine in the mirror.
I frowned at her, my hand still between her legs.
“I’m not sorry,” she said again.
My Ayda. It was so typical of her.
I gave her one final, tender squeeze before I slid my hand up between the edges of her ass cheeks and helped her rise to stand in front of me.
“You’re a crazy kind of something, you know that?” I said sternly.
“Why? Because I know my own mind?”
“Because I could literally put a gun to your head and ask you to enjoy it for my benefit and you would. You were crying, Ayda.”
“That’s not true. I know that for a fact.” She looked down and shook her head. “And you don’t even know why I was emotional.”
Swiping at one of the tears, she tried to push away from the sink and swayed a little.
I grabbed her without thought, holding her up by her arms and bending at the knee until our eyes were level. “I’m taking you to bed,” I told her. She looked like she was broken, yet her cheeks were the kind of rosy pink I’d always adored on her right after we’d made love or fucked.
“Will you stay with me?”
“Yes.” I swallowed the lie.
Ayda’s fingertips brushed my cheeks gently, almost a silent forgiveness as though she understood, without really understanding at all.
I hated myself at that moment. I picked her up, scooping her into my arms like she weighed nothing. I kept my eyes on hers the entire time I walked her to our bed, and when I laid her down as carefully as I could, pulling the comforter over her naked breasts and running my finger down her arm, I allowed her to believe I might stay. I wanted to stay. With her, even when I felt damaged and fucked up beyond redemption, I became lighter than air. No one else could do to me what Ayda could do.
But there was a problem with having someone on such a pedestal. There was a kink in the way it all worked. To me, she was perfect. So perfect she didn’t seem real sometimes. And when I was like this, consumed, vengeful, bloodthirsty and raw, the last thing I wanted to do was infect her and have her become some kind of fallen angel.
If this angel fell, the whole universe was doomed.
I climbed on top of the comforter beside her, me resting on my side, her resting on hers, the two of us looking into each other’s eyes as I ran a lonely finger up and down her arm.
“Sleep, darlin’.”
Ayda didn’t say anything. She just blinked and studied my face, those big blue eyes moving over my features as though she were etching the image of them into her eyelids. With each pass, her eyes grew heavier, and no matter how much she tried to fight it, her exhaustion forced her into sleep.
“Of all the things I’m glad he saw before he died, you’re the main one,” I whispered, knowing how much Harry loved her.
“I love you, Drew,” she breathed.
I sighed, the weight of my relief and frustration pouring out of me. “Someone had to,” I mouthed.
I’m glad it was you, I added in my head.
I watched as she drifted off to sleep, her body melting into our bed sheets and resting, while mine became tenser and more desperate to flee. I never thought I’d want to run from her again. I never thought I’d get this dark, but I’d never thought I was going to lose Harry so fucking quickly, and the truth was, he’d been around a lot longer than this new life of mine. He’d been around when Ayda hadn’t. He’d been the man to stick up for me, stick by my side, stick, stick, stick when every other fucker had given up, including my own father. I no more knew how to let him go than I’d known how to let Pete fly free.
Guilt took over me when I thought about being happy while he was rotting away beneath cold soil and dark earth.
Revenge.
Revenge.
Revenge.
That was easier. It was all I knew.
I wished I wasn’t this person, but when I was certain Ayda had fallen into a sleep deep enough to consume her for a few hours, I leaned forward and kissed her forehead, pressing my words against her so they sank into her skin.
“You’re a crazy kind of something, Hanagan. My kind of crazy kind of something. Wait for me.”
Then I got up, grabbed some clothes, and I left, closing the door behind me as the urge to be a wolf in the night took over.
* * *
I knocked on Slater’s door and waited.
When he didn’t respond, I walked in anyway and crept over to his bed, praying he had some clothes covering his junk.
The light from the corridor poured in enough for me to see he was sprawled on his chest, his hands tucked under his pillow and that beard of his spread out on his bed sheets like it was a person in its own right. The fucker was breathing so heavily, I was certain some chicks would class it as snoring, but it was the full spine tattoo of a wolf with gnarled teeth that caught my attention.
WITHOUT SHAME: Babylon MC Book 4 Page 4
