Then she headed for the bathroom and his gaze followed her ass. Dimples. Nice, lick-me dimples right at the top of that curve.
He took a step to follow her.
The lady kicked the door closed.
Okay.
The shower blasted on, the roar of the water easily penetrating through the thin door.
Simon hesitated, his eyes on that door. She’d shut him out, so that clearly said she didn’t want him stripping and joining her for some water fun.
But there’d been something in her eyes since Grim’s death. Not fear. Yeah, worry, but—
Pain. More than just the physical wounds.
He locked the motel room door and strode toward the bathroom. His knuckles rapped against the door. “Dee?”
No answer.
His hand dropped to the doorknob. If she told him to f**k off, he’d leave her in peace. But if she was in there, hurting, he wasn’t going to walk away.
He turned the knob and stepped inside. Steam had begun to rise and to drift lazily in the air, but Dee hadn’t entered the shower yet. She stood near the tub, head bowed, shoulders hunched.
“Dee?” He said her name again, softer.
She glanced back at him and the sight of tears on her face was a punch right in his gut. “It didn’t make any difference.”
What? Fuck, but now he hurt. He grabbed her arms and yanked her against his chest. “Babe, what’s—”
“I thought killing him would make some of the pain stop. That it would give me some peace.” A hard swallow. “But when I close my eyes, I still see them.”
Them. Her family. Simon blew out a breath and held her even tighter. “I know.” He did. Because there was still a hole in his heart for his family. A hole that vengeance hadn’t healed.
“My fault.” A whisper. Stark.
The water fell in a hard stream.
“Nothing that happened was your fault. Not then. Not now.”
She tilted her face up to look at him. “They died because of what I am.”
“No.” Absolutely certain. “They died because some sick freak believed he was going to change the future.”
She paled a bit at that. “You really think the future’s set? That the prophets out there aren’t bullshitting?”
Careful now, because he’d heard Catalina’s last words to her. Not that he’d let that come to pass. “I think Grim sealed his fate a long time ago.”
Her hand pressed against his chest. “And what about your parents? Did killing Grim bring you peace?”
“Not peace.” Never that. “But justice.”
She gave a slow nod. “Justice. It still feels empty.” Her lip began to tremble then. Tough Dee, who could face down a Born and send him to the devil with a grin. “I’d rather have just had…them.”
The woman was breaking his heart. He tucked her head against his chest and held her as the water poured. “I know.”
He let her cry. The tears she’d kept inside over the years. The tears she’d stopped shedding once she began fighting.
When the tears finally stopped, he lifted her and carried her to the shower. It was time to wash away the pain and the past.
Maybe, just maybe, it was time for them to begin again.
They didn’t talk in the shower. Simon stripped and joined her. The water beat on them and washed away the blood and the battle.
And they didn’t talk.
He carried her to the bedroom, put her in the middle of the bed.
The water glistened on her skin and her eyes, so very dark, met his.
Then she parted her legs.
He came down beside her, putting a stranglehold on his need. This time wouldn’t be about heat and desperation.
This time, he’d give her something more.
Because that’s what she’d given him.
His lips touched hers. A light, fleeting kiss. Simple. Soft.
His fingers trailed over her body. Caressed her br**sts, the ni**les that hardened beneath his fingers.
“I want to forget.” Her whisper.
The first thing she’d said.
His cock, fully swollen and thick with need, pressed against her leg. Forgetting—fleeting. The memories would come back. They always did. But he’d give her this.
Hell, he’d give her anything she wanted.
He wouldn’t rush. Because he needed, too. Her taste…
He kissed his way down her neck. Licked the scars from her past battle. Tasted her ni**les and sucked her flesh into his mouth. She twisted beneath him, rising and pulling in a quick breath.
And, finally, finally, the scent of her arousal began to fill the air.
Because he’d never take her when she didn’t want him.
His fingers slipped between her parted thighs, found the hot flesh, and eased into her.
This was what he wanted.
Her eyes turned to black.
He licked a path down her stomach. Blew lightly over the blond curls that hid her pink flesh.
“Simon…”
He’d always liked the way she said his name, especially when she wanted him. That hitch, the way the end of his name sounded like a moan on her lips.
He put his mouth against her. Took her cream on his tongue and tasted her flesh.
Her hips arched against him, a helpless jerk of her body. His tongue slipped over her clit. Her gasp filled his ears.
When her fingers sank into his hair, he knew she wanted more. Wanted harder. Faster.
Wanted to come.
“Not yet.” He said the words against her sex and she shuddered. The pleasure wouldn’t be fleeting. Not for either of them. It was time she learned that.
His lips closed around the swollen button of her desire, and he sucked, using lips and tongue to give and to take.
Her moan broke.
He gave to her, slowly. Learning every curve. Exploring her flesh. His tongue drove into her and her legs shook. He licked her. Lapped at her and wanted more.
Everything.
“Simon, I’m going to come!”
No. Not yet.
He eased back and his fingers worked her flesh. Drawing out the release, making the desire build with soft strokes and deep plunges of his fingers.
His c**k twitched. The need for her was so fierce he burned.
Bite.
The bloodlust was there, as it always was, because he didn’t just want her body. He wanted her blood. Her heart.
Everything.
And he would have it.
She twisted against the sheets. The water had dried from her skin and her br**sts thrust up against him.
So pretty. So perfect.
He caught her nipple with his mouth. Sucked deep and hard.
She squirmed beneath him.
Not about forgetting any longer. About them.