She doesn't have an answer to that because we both know I’m right. Monroe steps out of the shower and into the waiting towel. I dry her off, rubbing her whole body gently until every inch of her is dry. Surprisingly, she lets me without a fight, even lifting up her arms and spreading her legs to give me better access. Maybe winning her over is going to be easier than I thought.
“Let’s go to bed,” I coo, taking her hand and leading her back into the bedroom. We climb into my king-sized bed together, and Monroe reaches for the blanket to cover up, but I stop her.
“Please, Alaric…not tonight. I can’t do this tonight.”
Ignoring her plea, I move on top of her, blanketing my naked body with hers. “This is for you, not for me. All I want to do is make you feel better. I want you to tell me where he touched you, so I can touch you there. I want to replace every memory with a better one.”
Scrunching her nose, she’s not convinced. “Tell me where he touched you.” It takes her another moment, but then she slowly lifts her hand and points at her upper arm.
I lean down, keeping my weight on my elbows, and pepper soft kisses over the spot. When I’m satisfied with that area, I glance back up at her face. She lifts her hand again, pointing at her chest this time.
Shifting my weight, I cradle one of her breasts like it is the most precious thing in the world. I bring my mouth to the nipple and close my lips around the taut peak. A shudder runs through her body, and I run my tongue over her areola. I give the other side equal attention before I lift my gaze to meet Monroe’s.
Her cheeks are flushed, and for the first time today, I see a smile tugging on her lips. She raises her hand and points at her slender neck. I immediately lean down, pressing my cheek to hers as I kiss along her collarbone all the way up to the spot behind her ear. She giggles, and the sound vibrates through me in a way I never felt before.
Her small hands press against my shoulder, and I push myself back up to see where she will point next. Her index finger touches her lips, and a mischievous glint sparkles in her eyes.
“He touched your lips?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I just want you to kiss me.”
My lips are on hers in the next instant. I don’t remember the last time I kissed someone like this, maybe not ever. Our lips mold together like they were made for each other, like there is no other place for them to be than pressed together in a passionate kiss.
Happiness is not something I’m used to feeling. The warmth spreading through my body is foreign, but nevertheless, I welcome it. I hold on to it, and I’m never going to let it slip through my hands again.