Page 169 of The Wishing Game

His hand follows the jet of water as he touches me softly. First my shoulders, then going lower, tracing the contour of my ribcage before reaching my belly.

"It's okay." I give him permission as he proceeds lower.

"You're so beautiful, Luce," he speaks huskily, his eyes hooded as he regards me with love and...lust. There's no disgust. No aversion. There's only a reverent love that warms my insides.

"I'm sorry," I say as I reach to touch him. "I love you, Nikki. I truly didn't mean it like that. I was just... I let my weakness get the best of me. I never meant to hurt you."

He covers my hand with his, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply.

"I know you didn't, Luce. I know." He gives me a sad smile.

I blink away tears as I look at him. I hurt him. I hurt him, but he won't admit it.

"Come in." I pull lightly on his hand, urging him to join me.

His eyes scan my features, perhaps to ensure that I mean it, or that I'm ready for it.

"Please, come in," I repeat.

He swallows hard, his gaze dipping lower to my body.

"Luce... I'm not made of stone," he admits in a thick voice.

"Please."

He stares at me for a moment before he places the showerhead next to me in the tub and stands up. Slowly, as if giving me time to change my mind, he starts taking off his clothes. He undoes the bowtie at his neck, throwing it to the ground before unbuttoning his shirt.

I lick my lips as he shrugs the shirt off, letting it drop to the floor. He's always been beautiful to me, but I never imagined he'd have such a powerful physique. Isn't it pathetic? We've been living together for more than a year and I've never seen him without his shirt off.

As he reaches for his belt, he raises his brows at me.

I nod, pushing my anxiety aside.

He quickly discards his pants too and stands entirely naked before me.

I gulp, doing my best not to avert my gaze as heat climbs up my cheeks.

Getting in the tub, he sits behind me, pulling me to him and laying his cheek against my back. Slowly, he nuzzles his face against my skin, his palms splayed across my stomach. One hand moves higher, the tips of his fingers grazing my breast.

I inhale sharply.

"I'm not going to do anything, Luce. Not now. Not today."

"But—"

"We're not married yet. And I'm not marrying you today."

"What?" I burst out, turning to face him.

He gives me a sad smile as he tugs a strand of wet hair behind my ear.

"Today we talk. We grieve. We cry for the past," he tells me, taking my hands and bringing them between us. With gentle movements, he washes my scratches before bringing my knuckles to his lips to kiss the pain away. "Today we face everything we didn't dare face before."

I bite my lip as I stare at him. Renewed sobs bubble in my throat just as tears stab at my eyes.

"And tomorrow?" I ask in a whisper.

"Tomorrow is another day." His lips pull up.

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