Bet he hadn’t been expecting the surprise I’d pulled on him.
My sobs well up, the tears flowing down my cheeks. I pull my knees into my naked body as the water pours over me. My hair sticks to my face, my shoulders. I fold my arms over my knees, drop my head onto them, and allow myself to cry. Shit. Why am I falling apart now? Why are my arms and legs shaking? Goosebumps flare on my skin. My heart slams against my ribcage. A ball of emotion chokes my throat. I try to breathe, but my lungs burn. The hell is happening? Am I having a nervous breakdown? And about what? Finally losing my virginity? It’s not a big thing… Not a milestone. Why had it even hurt? Hadn’t I read somewhere that the hymen has been bred out of us?
It was stupid of me to have held onto it so far. Not that I had tried too hard to lose it. I had been too busy working toward a scholarship, and in university I'd focused on my studies. Been too much of a bookworm, and far happier to spend my time with fictional characters than in the real world. If it hadn't been for Nina, her... I'd have never seen much outside of the class room, either.
I hope she’s okay. She has to be… It’s the only thing that makes all this worthwhile... Except, when he’d taken me with that ferocity, it had completely floored me.
When he’d stared into my eyes and made me repeat those words… My sobs intensify. It had felt… Real. Like I was truly wedded to him, joined to him. He’d marked me, the asshole. He’d fucked me with a determination that had cast aside everything else that had happened in my life. It felt like I was starting with a fresh slate…
I left Victoria behind. All that remains is Gigi. His Gigi. Hell, this is insane. The thoughts whirl around in my head and my arms and legs seem to go numb. What is wrong with me? I have to get out of here. Away from him. Before he realizes the extent to which he’s already imprinted on my cells. I draw in a ragged breath, then lurch up to my feet. My legs prickle with pins and needles, then crumple. The ground comes up to meet me. Shit! I brace for impact, and hit something hard…solid…warm...vertical.
"Victoria."
His voice curls around me. His grip on my shoulders is reassuring, familiar… His slippery skin under my cheek…too inviting. I can’t afford to be drawn to him, can’t have him finding out what I am going to do to him. Can’t allow him to realize how our entire encounter has affected me. I shove at his shoulders, "Let me go."
"Not a chance."
He wraps his big arms around me, pulls me into him. One big palm rubs across my back. "Cry as much as you want. I won’t judge."
His voice is soft…so unlike how he’s ever spoken to me before. A fresh burst of sobs wells up. Shit, it’s like everything pent-up inside of me has been building up, waiting until I couldn’t hold it in anymore. A spark to dry wood and it had flared out of control. The tears don’t seem to stop. My cheeks heat, my eyes burn, and I try to pull away from him. He cups the back of my head, presses my face into his shoulder. Then he sinks down onto the bench in the shower stall and pulls me onto his lap, the water flowing over both of us.
Damn it, I don’t want to lose it like this with him. It’s exactly the kind of weakness he’ll exploit to his advantage. I try to speak and hiccup instead. Try to pull away again. He tightens his grip even further.
He cuddles me close enough for his shoulders to block out most of the water. A safe haven in the center of a storm. A shield against the worst that life had thrown at me. Why do I want to believe that he can protect me from what is to come? Why do I want to sink into him, forget about everything that has happened to me and conspired to bring me here, in this shower, in his hotel suite, wrapped around him, crying my eyes out? It makes me sob harder…as if that were possible.
He holds me tightly. Vibrations rumble up his massive chest. I press my ear closer against his ribcage. I sense him move, rock me to and fro. I listen to the purr that thrums up his throat—a low humming, subvocal I recognize. I pick up the notes of a tune that had wafted up the stairs when my mother had played it at night, in our home in LA. I had often fallen asleep to it.
Now I focus on the words of Hey Jude, tune into it, use the familiar melody to ground me. I swallow down my tears. He continues to rock me, singing the words under his breath.
"This is getting to be a habit," my voice cracks. I swallow, "You singing to me."
I sense his lips curve against my hair.
"You seriously do suck at it though," I mumble.
He chuckles. "Should I stop?"
I shake my head, nuzzle into his chest, "It's curiously loveable..." I hesitate, "or maybe I should say loveably curious."
"That's a first," he laughs. "No one's ever called me either one of those. But then I've never acted so out of character as when I am with you."
Wait, what? Every time I want to hate him, he has to go
