Page 34 of Descent
His breath hitched. “Is that why you’re punishing yourself?”
“I deserve to be punished.”
“You survived.”
Barely. If not for Zach’s over-confidence, I might not have found an opportunity to take him down. The outcome would have been horribly different, and I would have been somewhere else right now, facing Zach and his sick obsession for the rest of my life.
A shiver traveled through me, and Rafe tightened his arms, banding his love and strength around me until I had no hope for escape.
Not that I wanted to.
Our bodies were still joined—still wet and hard despite the sorrow of our hearts—and we couldn’t help but respond to the desire floating under the surface, begging us to dive in and find comfort in each other.
To begin healing.
He guided my hips with sure hands, nudging me past the guilt, bringing me all the way home, and I moaned against the feverish skin on his neck as the pressure inside me built. But I wasn’t ready to take the next step into renewal.
“Don’t let me come.”
“You need to.”
“No.”
He pulled on my hair, bringing us face-to-face again. “Who’s in charge of your orgasms?”
“You are.”
“Then come for me.” His fingers traced the seam of my mouth before dipping inside, leaving his salty taste on my tongue. “Don’t let him take this from us.”
The hot sensation of our joined bodies won out, and I let my eyes drift shut, submitting to the urge to just feel.
“Babe, look at me.” Slipping his fingers from between my lips, he palmed my cheek as I lifted my lids. “Stay with me.” His plea held a raspy edge that zapped straight to my core, and God, it felt so fucking good when he was inside me like this.
I was tempted to pinch myself, to make sure I was actually here and not back on the island enslaved to Zach.
“He said I’d never feel you like this again.”
“He can’t hurt you anymore. I’m here, Alex. I’m with you every step of the way.”
A shudder born of trauma, heartache, and ecstasy roiled through me, and I claimed his mouth, needing that intimate connection as I allowed the heat between us to combust. I contracted around his cock, my orgasm seizing my limbs for several long and blissful seconds I hoped would never end.
For a while, I thought they wouldn’t. The waves were endless, toe-curling, soul-consuming. Rafe followed on the tail end of the first crest, arching up to meet me as our unbridled cries vibrated in the tangle of tongues.
18. Home Sweet Home
Rafe
The shift in Alex’s demeanor on the way home was gradual, becoming more pronounced the closer we got to Dante’s Pass. I left the SUV in the parking lot at the boat launch site, like Jax instructed, and found my boat docked in the small marina where he said it would be.
Considering how quiet Alex had been since hitting Interstate 84, I wasn’t sure how she’d handle crossing the river. She wasn’t as terrified of water like she used to be, and she even knew how to swim, but the phobia still existed under the surface, much like the craving for a strong drink sprang up from time to time for an alcoholic.
But she handled the ride across the Columbia River with a degree of stoicism that bordered on impressive, and that pushed the needle on my worry meter up another notch.
I remembered the despair in her voice and the hopelessness in her eyes as we fucked in the car, and the memory made me want to pound on something.
Or someone.
I hoped like hell Zach hadn’t broken her, but the true test lay ahead on a patch of land that had been renovated to give us the fresh start we’d hoped for.
Pulling up to the island’s private dock, I secured the boat before grabbing her hand. “Ready?”
She nodded, but I sensed all she didn’t say. There was no easy way to return to the trauma of this place, to face the remnants of horror, not to mention the real life monster in the cellar. That first step inside felt oddly normal. The cabin seemed undisturbed, everything in its place, until I tried ushering Alex upstairs.
“I can’t,” she said, digging in her heels. She wrenched her hand from mine and folded herself inside the safety of her own embrace, and I hated how she backed away, putting inches of space and emotional barriers between us. I glanced toward the ceiling, envisioning the loft bedroom and the ensuite bathroom, and wondered what kind of special hell Zach had put her through up there.
A huge part of me didn’t want to know, certain I couldn’t handle all the details, though I’d force them out of her eventually if she didn’t spill on her own accord.
“It’s okay. We’ll sleep on the couch tonight,” I said, directing her toward the bathroom on the main floor. “But we need a shower first.” She didn’t argue as I switched on the spray. Mud-caked jeans and blood-stained clothing dropped to the floor, and we stepped underneath the hot water.
