When I didn't reply, Q raised one hand out of the water. Cupping his palm beneath a dispenser tiled into the wall, his pectoral bounced me as he pressed the plunger, filling his palm with coconut shampoo.
I squirmed, very aware of the hardness digging into my lower back. I didn't want to speak-I wanted to spin in his embrace and slide onto him.
Oh God, the mental image was too much.
Q brushed aside the wet curtain of my hair, sucking on my ear. "Dis moi." Tell me.
My breath came fast; I did my best to obey. "I'm free … from everything."
He tutted under his breath, dropping his mouth to press against the oversensitive brand on my neck. "I want details."
I suffered a full body convulsion as Q's hands landed on my head. His long, strong fingers slinked through my wet curls, spreading shampoo with slow, sweeping pressure.
I sank further against him, morphing into liquid. My vision danced with purple shooting stars, lighting up the bathroom.
How was I supposed to think when he touched me that way? Each stroke both relaxed and tensed me.
"Tess … I'll stop if you don't tell me."
My eyes flared wide. I never wanted him to stop. Ever. "I'm not afraid of baths anymore."
He laughed softly. "I'd hoped that would be the case." His soapy hands slipped down my neck, trailing over my clavicle, cascading to my breasts. "Not wanting to be in a bath with me would be terrible news." His teeth nibbled on the top of my ear forcing me to suck in a shaky breath.
Tracing back up, the pads of his fingers massaged my scalp, sending scents of coconut to envelope us in a tropical world. Bubbles and froth trickled down my chest, looking like expensive spun glass and jewels.
"I've never washed anyone before you, esclave, but this is the second time I've had the pleasure." His fingers drifted to the back of my neck, rubbing and coaxing with fierce ownership.
I moaned. Loudly.
"Do you remember the first? La première fois que je t'ai lavée de ton passé?" The first time I cleaned you of your past?
I let my eyes flutter. Memories of him holding me in his lap as hot water rained from above, filled my mind. I'd been naked while he wore a soaking cashmere suit. He'd replaced himself with memories of the rape. He'd taken all power of the memory, switching it into something I could survive.
Q grabbed me tighter, murmuring, "You're mine, esclave. Mine to care for. Mine to fix. I'll allow you to cry while I wash you, but the moment you're clean, you're to stop. Do you understand?"
I blinked through tears, shuddering so badly I couldn't answer.
"Everything about tonight will be forgotten, and you'll only remember what I do to you. Is that clear?" He shook me. "Answer me."
I nodded. There was relief in being ordered to forget and I would obey.
I'd never been able to see love. I knew what it felt like, how it hurt as well as healed, but until that moment, I didn't know what physical form it took. Now, I did. It was a swirling world inside me, interlocked with the swirling world inside Q. Our two dimensions superseded our bodies and existed not in us but between us.
It was knowledge.
The knowledge I'd be there for him, and he'd be there for me.
It was blissful comprehension of never being alone and always cared for.
"I love you, Q." I couldn't hold back the tears this time, completely overwhelmed with gratefulness. "You truly are my master. Not because of the power you have over me, but because of the power you give me."
Q's fingers twitched in my hair; his chest rose and fell, sticking to my back. His heartbeat thudded, and I knew I wouldn't have one lifetime with this man-I would have multiple. I refused to believe death would tear us apart. He was me as I was him. There would be no separating us.
Q dropped his hands from my hair, wrapping his arms around me. So much was promised in that embrace. So much exchanged and acknowledged.
I missed you.
I know.
I'm so sorry.
Don't be.
We're not broken anymore.
He hugged me as if I'd float away and only remained locked to him by force.
"I missed your fight, mon coeur." My heart, he murmured, pressing a delicate kiss on my temple.
"I'm not afraid of fighting back anymore," I said softly, immersed in his incredible warmth.
"I'm glad." With a fierce squeeze, he let me go, returning his hands to my head. We stayed silent as he massaged more bubbles through my curls, before pushing my slippery body down his.
Once upon a time, I would've fought at the thought of being pushed under water, but now … I didn't care.