Credence

I grin at the gesture. Was he like this with her? Probably more so. If he’s this sweet with me, what was he like with a woman he loved?

I feel his fingers under the hem of my shirt, and I stop him, turning around and shaking my head.

Holding his eyes, I peel back the curtain and step into the shower, letting the water soak me. His eyes fall down my body as the water trickles down my stomach and thighs, the white shirt and silk panties molding to my skin.

Just like she would’ve looked when they swam together.

I lean against the wall and watch as he pushes his pants down his legs, his cock already stiff.

God. Three times in the truck. Once in the bed. Apparently, I wasn’t too much for him to handle. Or vice versa.

He closes the curtain, darkness and steam filling the shower and our eyes still locked.

He presses into me, but I keep my hands at my side.

“And what did you do then?” I ask. “After she ran her hands through your hair?”

He lifts my leg, and I bite my lip as he pulls my wet panties to the side and pushes inside of me.

I dig my nails into his arms, the pain and sting from being entered once again mixing with the pleasure of being filled. His mouth hovers over mine, breathing through his teeth as he pumps his dick.

“Close your eyes,” I pant with his thrusting. “Make love to her.”

He shuts his eyes, and I circle my arms around his neck, hanging on as he lifts Flora into his arms and fucks her against the wall. I run my hand up the ba

ck of his head and over the top, threading my fingers through his hair, relishing the sweet ache deep inside.

I moan between our kisses, the water on his mouth warm and sweet. I close my eyes, too, letting him go back. Letting him sink into the fantasy, because I want him to remember how he loved her and know how lucky she was to have him. That it wasn’t his fault.

That my parents weren’t his fault.

He slides in and out of me, grunting as I tip my head back and letting his mouth trail down my neck as I thread my fingers through his hair once again.

“I love you,” he murmurs. “But Tiernan uses her nails, and I like that more.”

Butterflies rush through my stomach, and I tip my forehead to his, immediately curling my claws and dragging them lightly down the back of his head.

“Open your eyes, baby,” he tells me.

I do, seeing him looking straight at me as the steam billows around us.

“I could never pretend you weren’t you,” he says. “I don’t want to.”

I hold his eyes, our bodies moving faster as his fingers dig into my ass.

“You remind me so much of her,” he whispers, not breaking his rhythm. “I’m remembering things I haven’t thought about in a long time.”

The tip of his dick hits my spot, and I throw my head back and arch my back, moaning.

“How possessive I was with her.” He grabs my face and brings me in, kissing me. “I’d forgotten about that. How we fought a lot about the dumbest stuff. How thoughtless and impatient I was.”

We fight about the dumbest stuff, too, but I don’t tell him that. If he hadn’t fought me, I wouldn’t be any different now.

He holds me, and I hold him, breathing hard against each other’s lips. “How overpowering the sex was,” he goes on, “because our emotions were so much bigger than we were and we lost control. And how we were young and fucked away every problem. I don’t want that anymore.”

“What do you want?” I ask.

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.