Standing in only his boxer briefs he leans into the shower and starts the hot water. Determining the temperature and adjusting the knobs, he then turns, grabbing my hands and pulling me to stand.
He slowly unwraps the blanket he first wrapped me in and drops it to the floor. He methodically undoes my blouse buttons and slowly pulls it off my arms. He treads carefully as if I’m a grenade ready to explode.
He feels the water once more before leading me into the shower. We stand before each other, Saxon still in his boxer briefs and me in my bra and panties. I can see the wariness in his eyes. He’s looking at me like he did at the funeral when I first lost Nate. He’s scared to make any sudden movements.
He grabs my shower puff and loads it up with body wash. He turns to me with questioning eyes, and I give a single nod. He softly runs the puff all over my skin, lathering my body up in the soft bubbles while the scent of vanilla surrounds us.
He manoeuvres me under the stream of hot water, and I grimace as it hits my skin. The water stings all the cuts and scrapes I’ve endured on my arms and legs.
“Shit,” he whispers, quickly reaching for the cold tap to cool the water down. “Is that better?” he asks gently, causing me to meet his gaze. I nod at him again, still unable to get words out.
He grabs my hand and slowly pulls me out of the stream of water, turning me around to face away from him. His hands leave me for a few seconds before they return to my head, lathering up the shampoo. I flinch as he rubs over my scalp. “Fuck, sorry,” he says with his voice full of concern. I vaguely remember hitting my head.
He delicately washes my hair in pieces, avoiding touching my scalp at all. I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone be so gentle with me before, so tender and caring like I’m the most precious and fragile object in the world.
Once he’s carefully rinsed my hair, he shuts off the water and leads me out of the shower. Standing on the mat, he grabs my towel and wraps it around me before seeing the fresh stack of towels on the bathroom shelves and taking one, wrapping it around his waist. He takes hold of my towel and begins patting me dry. As he pats over my chest I can see the question in his eyes.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, my voice husky. His eyes shoot up to mine, wide and shocked, and I nod.
He returns my nod, places the towel on the toilet seat and reaches behind me to unclasp my bra, slowly peeling it off me. He hooks his fingers into my panties and stops, looking at me as indecision flits across his face. His carefulness and thoughtfulness fill my heart with warmth. He’s being so gentle with me, and it confirms how safe I am with him.
I give him a small smile, and he slowly pulls my panties down as I hold onto his shoulders and step out of them. He stands to get the towel and carefully finishes drying me off, wrapping the towel around me before quickly drying himself off and rewrapping the towel around his waist.
He picks me up in his arms carrying me into the bedroom. He tenderly lays me down in bed and my body relaxes into the soft mattress. The bed dips behind me and Saxon’s warm arms come around my torso to hold my body tight against his.
“Saxon …”
“I know, I know,” he interrupts me. “I’ll get going. Please, just let me hold you for a while.” The desperation in his voice is clear.
“Stay,” I whisper
“What?”
“Stay with me.”
His body stills and his silence fills the room more than any words could.
“Please, Sax. Stay with me.”
“Of course, baby. Of course I’ll stay. I’m not going anywhere if you don’t want me to.”
We lie in silence. Words aren’t needed. I soak in his presence and that familiar peace. Things have changed between us. This has changed us. I know without a shadow of a doubt that things will never be the same between Saxon and me again.
We’re spending the night together and not having sex. It’s breaking every unspoken rule we have. It’s that defining moment all couples have when they know things have moved forward without their knowledge, consent, or control.
As humans we can control our actions, even control how we think about things, but we have no control over our hearts: how we feel, what we really want, what we cherish, and who we love.
“Saxon?” I whisper.
“Mmmmm?”
“You can keep my key.”
Saxon freezes before his hold tightens, and he snuggles into my neck. Feeling his smile against my skin, I release a soft breath and my body relaxes.
Just as I’m entering the realms of sleep he leans into my ear and whispers, “I love you, Brooke.”
The warm sun on my face floating through the partially open drapes wakes me from my deep sleep. As I glance around my room the hazy details from last night come floating back to me. Stretching, the pain that shoots through me confirms the memories are real, not at all a figment of my imagination.