“I couldn’t bring myself to tell you. I’m sorry,” I whisper, and his hand curls around mine so tight I squeak a little. But he doesn’t relent.
“Don’t you dare say sorry. You have nothing to apologize for.” His voice is so tender when he quietly adds, “and we talk about it when you’re ready and only then, if you ever are.”
I heard what he said, but it sounded a lot like, “that’s right, baby girl, keep your hands on my shoulders while you bounce on my cock and fill yourself with my cum.” Gulp.
“And… he’s fine. A little bruised. But–”
I don’t let him finish. “I don’t care. I don’t need to know. I just want to let you know that I appreciate what you did for me. No one’s ever—”
“From now on, someone will. Every fuckin’ thing, every goddamn time. A dirty look, a fender bender, someone not talkin’ to you right—I’m there, or I’m on my goddamn way.”
I’m melting from his words, everything between my thighs wet and swollen, aching for his touch. Throbbing for it, really. But I need to say things. I want to say them before we go further.
“I’m in therapy for things with my mother and what happened with Reynold. I’m seeing Dr. Longo here in town.”
His impassive face brings me relief and confidence because there are times when you don’t want a reaction, and this is one of them. “Good,” he dips his head. “That’s good.” He scratches his new beard. “I knew you were going, but thank you for telling me exactly why.”
“You’re welcome,” I say breathily, feeling light-headed by this honest and open communication. It feels so fucking good to just be real.
I smile at him. “I’m working with Dr. Longo to take your advice.”
He cocks a brow.
“Be real. I’m trying to just… be a more honest person, with myself mostly.”
“You’re a good person, baby. I was a prick to you when we met, and you still talked to me. You still gave me time. My Mom even had my ass for being salty with you,” he says vehemently.
“I’m just… I’m trying to work through stuff and be a better person.”
He nods. “I imagine what happened in the city will take some time.”
“It will, but it’s not just that. Reynold did ugly things,” I say, mentioning the situation explicitly for the first time. “But he isn’t the reason why I am who I am. I have work to do on myself, and Dr. Longo is helping. And I guess I’m just asking you to be there for me and with me while I do.”
“We’re together no matter what. And…” he searches my eyes with his. “No one is a finished piece. We’re all a work in progress.” He nods up to the apartment. “Let’s get up there and get you warmed up.”
Once we’re upstairs and the door is locked behind us, Atticus and I become drunk with lust and more, pawing all over each other until we’re completely naked. His mouth stays on mine, tonguing me in ways I’ve never been kissed as he walks us backward to my bathroom.
Inside the shower stall, I feel like a Barbie doll because of how big he is. As steam fills the space around us, I smooth my hands over the lumps of muscle on his torso, discovering his full pecs and shaped abdomen. There’s ink everywhere, intricate designs depicting scenes of fantasy and pain, all of his tattoos clearly telling a story.
He takes my breath away; he really does. I look up at him, blinking through the splatters of water that his body doesn’t block.
I open my mouth to compliment his physique, to tell him I’m in awe of every curvature and dip, each molecule of ink and art–but he doesn’t let me.
“Nope,” he shakes his head, giving me a little wink as his large hands come to rest on my hips. The water is hot, but his touch is fire. “Don’t be saying heartfelt shit in here. I’m too big to fuck around in the shower. I want you in bed.”
Giggling, I reach around him and take the soap, running it between my palms. Suds form through my fingers, and when I put the bar back, I wiggle my brows at him. “How about I wash the giant down there for ya?” I wiggle my soapy fingers in front of him, and the side of his mouth arches.
Wrapping each hand around his cock, I twist and pump in slow, dizzying strokes. He groans, and the noise hardens my nipples. Looking down, I continue working him, but the sight slows me. “God, I can’t even, Atticus. Your dick is just…” I look up, and now he’s fully grinning.
“What is it? Let me hear you say it,” he goads with a delicious grin I’ve never seen before. “The hottest thing, next to watching your pussy gush all over me, is listening to those sweet lips sing the monster’s praise.”
I tip my head toward the shower door. “Get out.”
His chuckle is hearty, and I’m almost rendered immobile as he brings a large hand to his sternum, resting it there as he laughs.
“I’m serious. Get out. I just need to wash and get out of here. If we can’t mess around in the shower, then get out because you’re torturing me.”
The smile melts from his lips as he leans forward and takes my mouth in a short, teasing kiss. His hand glides toward my belly, his thumb connecting with my navel. His lips brush mine as he says, “nothing is more agonizing than having this sweet pussy and tight ass so close without being inside.”