Page 201 of I Will Mend You
“Don’t do that again.” Voice trembling, he cups my face, his thumbs brushing away stray droplets from my cheeks.
“Do you plan on going out of your mind again?” I ask.
Opening his eyes, he shakes his head, his lips quirking into a reluctant smile. “Not in this lifetime.”
“There you go.”
I lean in, my lips parting, and he captures them in a kiss. It’s tender, a heartfelt apology that needs no words. I luxuriate in the moment, wanting it to last forever. His hands cradle my face, his touch gentle yet firm, grounding me in the warmth of his love.
When we break apart, he leans his forehead against mine, his thumbs tracing circles on my cheeks.
“Let me wash you,” he says with so much reverence that my skin breaks out in shivers.
“Please.”
He reaches for a bar of soap and rubs it between his hands, creating a rich lather. Starting at my shoulders, he works the suds into my skin with firm strokes. His touch is methodical, almost clinical, as if he’s focused on erasing every trace of those men’s gazes.
“You’re mine, little ghost,” he growls.
“Yours,” I whisper. “And you’re mine.”
“I belonged to you the moment I read your first letter. Hell, the moment I picked up your scent on the paper, you became the keeper of my heart.”
As his gaze finds mine again, he glides his hands over my arms, his thumbs tracing the lines of my muscles. “You’re so strong,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “So brave.”
“I don’t know about that,” I say with a smile. “I spent a long time playing dead.”
“Clever ghost. They underestimated you—even my father. You should have seen the horror in his face when you threw him into the glass.”
Closing my eyes, I let the praise wash over me along with the water. He moves his hands lower, soaping my chest with careful attention, his fingers skimming the tops of my breasts. I shiver, my nipples hardening.
“And beautiful, too,” he says, his voice deepening.
He guides me to the edge of the bench and turns my body to face sideways, so his strong hands can work their way down my back. His fingers knead the knots in my muscles until the tension dissolves, and I melt under his touch. Pulling me flush against his chest, he reaches around to my belly and runs his soapy hands in slow, sensual circles.
“You have no idea how much I love you,” he murmurs into my ear, his breath warm against my skin.
“Tell me,” I whisper back.
“More than I love the beating of my heart. More than I love blood running through my veins. You are my everything, the air that I breathe, the sun that warms my skin, the moon that brightens my darkest nights.”
His words resound through my soul, filling my heart with warmth. A lump forms in my throat, and my eyes prick with tears. No one has ever described me in such beautiful, raw terms. For the first time in my fragmented memory, I don’t just feel complete, but completely loved.
“Your words…” My voice thickens with the depth of my emotions. “I… You… God, Xero. You’ve gotten me tongue-tied.”
“Let it out.”
His fingers continue stroking my belly, never wandering any lower. My blood hums, my clit swells, and my skin thrums for his touch.
“Xero, I…” My throat tightens.
The last time I said those words, I had a miscarriage. The man I loved stood over my broken body, his expression unreadable, as I cramped and bled and cried.
Xero’s lips graze my ear, and he murmurs, “I’ve got you, little ghost. Your heart is safe with me.”
“You saved me in more ways than I can imagine,” I say, my voice trembling with the depth of my emotions. “Even when I thought all was lost, it was your voice guiding me through the dark. Xero, you’re the other half of my soul. Without you, I’m a shell, drifting aimlessly in an ocean of nothingness.”
I turn around to face him, my eyes brimming with tears, searching for him through the haze of water and steam. Our gazes finally connect, and it’s like the entire world falls still.