Shower with You

KIERA.



"Kiki, hey. I spoke to the doctor and he said you can come with me. Let's go... Home." Dylan's persuading voice of healing crept to my soul.

So he had heard. And he thought, in that sexily beautiful head, that he was not too late. I curled up under the hospital sheets dosed with a sickening amount of antiseptic and willed him to leave me alone.

Sighing, he tucked a stray hair strand behind my ear __ I flinched at this harmless gesture __ as he said, "I'm sorry. I really am. I didn't know I was gonna be held up in New York for the late night scene... Everything is all my fault... If I didn't ask you to go shopping, none of this would've happened. And I wanna let you know that I'm sorry. Kiki..."

Even listening to his tone hurt. Everything hurt so bad. I nodded slightly, tried to slip down from the bed, lost my footing.

"Take it easy, Kiki. I got you." He held out his hands, indicating that he desired to carry me bodily. I involuntarily backed off.

Why was he good to a fault? Staring up into the solemn pools he had for eyes, I bit my bottom lip, still not venturing any further towards his outstretched arms.

"Leave me alone," I thought.

"Please." He took both of my bruised hands in his genteelly. "I shouldn't have asked you to go out on your own without a bodyguard. Kiera?"

I looked away because the last thing I needed on the pile was being subdued under his masculine aura. I felt his palm softly stroke the side of my face that wasn't bruised, his touch reverent, as if he was afraid of hurting me. He was broken and I had lost hope.

As he lifted me, I buried my face in his sturdy shoulder.

"No matter what happens, I want you to trust me."

I sniffed, trying my hardest to not break out into a blubbering crying mess, hugging him with all my strength, we molded together into one.

I

"I got you," he continued saying, "I always got you. If you need a shoulder to cry on or someone to yell at, please don't hesitate to pick me. Oh, don't worry about Joanne. She can't hurt you as long as I'm here."

What about when he was gone?

"I'm never leaving you anymore."

A promise unmade was better than one unkept.

***

"Can you take it from here?" Dylan asked once we were in his driveway, reached over to unbuckle my seatbelt, his fingers grazed my lower abdomen, where the peppery sore ache throbbed.

He groaned and withdrew as soon as he noticed my discomfort.

"Remember what I told you on the first night we spent together?"

I said nothing. Since the incident, my mouth dried up, ordinary words failed me. I was fast losing control over my actions. Perhaps another spirit reigned in my body because I was done with living.

"All your scars, they make you more beautiful. You're a strong brave woman, never forget that."

Dylan knew how to make me cry. The side mirror afforded an amazing insight into my destroyed face, battered and shattered and bandaged. A jagged stitch ran from my eyebrow to my nose; I felt ugly, and older than my years. Why was Dylan lying to me? If he saw me as ugly, why didn't he say it?

"Come on, let's get you some cold drink and I can spend all day pampering you."

Hoisting me in bridal style, he strode through the mammoth entrance, paying deafest ears to the agitated greetings of his servants.

"I'll deal with y'all later."

I pitied them. He was indeed my safe haven like an ever present help in time of trouble.

"From now on, you're sleeping with me. In my room."

I arched a questioning eyebrow.

"I wasn't joking when I said I was never leaving you anymore, Kiera. Even if it means showering with you." He finally unlocked the door to his private master suite. "Actually, I take that back. I want to shower with you."

My hormones sizzled, I felt dizzy as he planted the tiniest of kisses on my forehead, setting me down on my feet. Thinking back to the last forty-eight hours, I realized how much had changed between us. His words lent me courage to walk through the grey area of my life. His scalding gaze scorched yet left me unscathed.

"Are... You going to punish your servants because of me?" I sat gingerly on the king-sized bed and twisted my palms in each other.

Upon watching my misery, his hardened jaw slackened. I enjoyed ogling him going through the motions: removing that print shirt outlining his taut muscles, his gold wristwatch, and leather belt. He was waltzing up to me, like a midsummer's night dream, smiling faintly.

"I'll make those bastards pay for touching you. I swear on my grandmother's grave, they'll never see the light of day."

"You can't__"

"Trust me." He lightly caressed my brown tresses. "I need you to trust me, Kiki. Are you really okay?"

"Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Are you okay?"

"No. I'll never be the same again." I pushed myself against his welcoming chest to nuzzle. And I was crying. Gosh, was this our life now?

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have__"

"Please." I yawned. Able to say no more.

"Someone's sleepy." I loved how his abs rumbled when he laughed.

"Come on, let's take that shower. And when you wake up in the morning, I'll be right by your side."

***

He would cut his hours at work, uncork bubbling white wine, prob me about my day. The doctor regularly checked on me. At one point, I had the nightmares that would give Voldemort the chills, henceforward the doctor changed my medication. As I slept better after, Dylan gave him a fat tip.

Whereas I knew it was because Dylan held on to my waist in bed, and kissed my forehead whenever he could, first thing in the morning and last thing at night. When I told him I would miss his cuddles when I healed up, his laughter reverberated as he nestled my head on his naked chest.

Seeing a nosy therapist was out of the options for me so Dylan offered to be my therapist. And he said that, for me, he would do much more.

Unfortunately, fate's machine got in motion elsewhere. My happiness did not last long, for, when the full moon budded and my breasts swelled into fullness, I counted the days on my menstrual chart. The world froze and thundered to an abrupt stop as I ticked the twenty-eight day but my undies were drier than sandpaper.

I was late.

I was never late.

"How's my girl doing?" Dylan shot heat straight to my cores by the might of his teddy-bear grin, instantly pulling me in for a deep sweet hug. "Come here."

Subtly inviting me to sit between his legs on the floor, in front of the television that had a steamy ad ongoing about dental floss, our tranquil breathings communicated to each other.

"You're glowing. So beautiful." He handed me the remote, "Here. What do you wanna watch?" while putting away his phone. That was my Dylan, dishing out praises.

Swoon.

"I... Uh..."

"What is it? Did something go wrong? Did a servant insult you?"

"Dylan... "

"C'mon, stop killing me with the suspense. Spill it. Do you wanna kiss me? Is that it?"

Was that supposed to be a corny joke? I sniffed.

He must have perceived the heightening hurricane about to smash him because he whispered, "I hope I'm not causing your tears. Am I? If all this... Is too much for you, please tell me. I'll let you go."

Oh no, I wanted to be hemmed in with him, hot caramel skin and all.

"I think I've to tell you something. It's more of a... Girl... Stuff. You wouldn't understand," I mumbled.

"Kiera? I know we're only sharing a room together at the moment, but do you have any pictures of how much more I'd love to do with you?"

Did he say love? I seriously needed a hand fan.