The silence stretched between us like a held breath.
Malakai stood there, blood still marking his shirt, his hand warm on my waist, and the question hung in the air between us. Will you shower with me?
My mind went completely, terrifyingly quiet.
I could hear the faint drip of water from somewhere far off in the house. The low hum of the heater. My own heartbeat, loud enough to echo in my ears. He had gone still too, watching me with those dark eyes that seemed to see every flicker of hesitation crossing my face. The room felt smaller. The air thicker.
He waited.
Then, softly, almost gently, he said, "If you don't want to, it's fine."
The words should have been a relief. Instead they twisted something low in my stomach.
Did I want to?
The question looped in my head, frantic and uncertain. I had never done anything like this. Never been this close to anyone, let alone him—bloodied and dangerous and looking at me like I was the only steady thing left in his night.
Before I could answer, his expression shifted.
That controlled mask slipped just enough for me to see the exhaustion underneath. "I'll go shower. Then come back to you."
He started to pull away.
The thought of him leaving—of watching that door close and standing here alone with the blood and the waiting again—snapped something inside me.
"Okay," I whispered.
He paused, searching my face once more. Then he nodded, pressed a brief kiss to my forehead, and left.
The door clicked shut behind him.
I stood frozen in the middle of my room for what felt like minutes, heart hammering. What are you doing, Kiera? My reflection in the mirror looked wide-eyed, cheeks flushed.
I wanted this. The realization settled deep and warm. I wanted him. Even covered in the evidence of whatever violence had followed him home. Especially like this—raw, unguarded, needing something real.
I slipped out of my room before I could overthink it again.
His door was ajar. The sound of running water drifted from the attached bathroom. I stepped inside quietly, the low light from his bedside lamp casting long shadows across the floor. My fingers trembled only a little as I peeled off my sleep shirt, then my shorts, letting them pool at my feet. Cool air brushed over my bare skin. I felt exposed in a way that made my pulse race—vulnerable, but strangely alive.
This was the first time I had ever been completely naked with someone else. The first time a man would see all of me.
I glanced down at myself, arms instinctively moving to cover my breasts, then forcing them back down. My body looked soft in the dim light, curves I had always been quietly self-conscious about now feeling magnified. I took a slow breath and padded toward the bathroom door, which stood half-open, steam already curling out.
He was already under the spray, back to me.
God.
Water sluiced down the broad, powerful lines of his shoulders, tracing the intricate tattoos that covered his back—dark, swirling patterns that spoke of pain and power and stories I didn't yet know.
His muscles shifted as he ran a hand through his hair, water streaming over the defined ridges of his spine, the narrow taper of his waist, the firm curve of his ass, and the strong lines of his thighs.
He was built like something carved for survival and violence, every inch of him radiating controlled strength.
My mouth went dry. Heat pooled low in my belly.
I stepped into the shower behind him, the warm spray immediately kissing my skin. He didn't notice at first, head tilted under the water. I let myself look a moment longer, committing every detail to memory—the way the droplets clung to his inked skin, the way his body seemed to fill the entire space.
Then I moved closer.
Malakai turned.
Water dripped from his face, dark hair slicked back, revealing the sharp cut of his jaw, the intensity of his eyes. My gaze dropped before
I could stop it—down the hard planes of his chest, the sculpted ridges of his abs that flexed with each breath, water tracing every valley and line like it was worshiping him.
He smiled, slow and surprised. "You came."
I nodded, barely able to speak. "Yes."
His eyes scanned me—slow, deliberate, from the flush on my cheeks down the length of my body and back up again. There was hunger there, but also something softer, almost reverent. I felt it like a physical touch.
Nervously, I crossed my arms over my breasts, trying to steady my breathing.
That made his smile deepen, though a flicker of something protective crossed his face.
I couldn't stop looking at him either. My eyes traced lower, past the sharp V of his hips… and then I saw it.
His cock hung heavy between his legs, thick and long even though it wasn't fully hard yet, swinging slightly with the movement of water. It rested against his thigh, intimidating in its size.
I had seen things before—stolen glimpses of nudes passed around at school, once walking in on my stepsister Lisa watching porn—but nothing like this. Nothing real, nothing this close. Heat flooded my face. What would it look like when he was actually hard?
He noticed where my stare had landed.
"You've never done something like this before?" His voice was low, roughened by the steam and the night.
I shook my head, cheeks burning.
Malakai stepped forward without hesitation.
One large hand settled on my waist, the other sliding down to cup my ass, pulling me flush against him.
His cock pressed against my abdomen, hot and heavy, rubbing against my skin as he drew me closer. The contact sent a jolt through me—everywhere felt suddenly too warm, too sensitive, too alive.
"I'm lucky I get to be your first," he murmured, voice dark and velvet-rough against my ear. "I'm going to take my time with you, Kiera."
Then he kissed me.
Not the careful kiss from earlier. This one was deeper, hungrier. His mouth claimed mine with a slow burn that quickly ignited, tongue sliding against mine as the water cascaded over us both. I forgot about being naked.
Forgot about everything except the slide of his wet skin against mine, the solid heat of his body, the way his hand squeezed my ass and pulled me even tighter so his cock nestled against my thighs.
His dick twitched, thickening rapidly between us, growing harder with every second. The kiss turned furious—desperate, like I was the last good thing left in his world tonight. He kissed me like a man who had walked through death and needed to remind himself he was still breathing.
When he finally pulled back, just enough to look at me, I was trembling. Wetness had gathered between my thighs, slick and undeniable.
I had felt arousal before, in quiet moments alone or staring at pictures, had even brought myself to orgasm once or twice—but nothing like the aching need pulsing through me now.
Malakai's gaze held mine as he slowly knelt in front of me, water streaming down his powerful shoulders and chest. He looked up at me through dark lashes, hands resting on my hips.
I swallowed, voice barely audible over the spray.
"What are you doing?"
His lips curved into a wicked, promising smile. "Let me taste you."