Page 38 of Lily In The Valley
“Khalil” I protested weakly, burying my face against his chest, still flushed and floating.
“Hush,” he commanded, kissing my hairline. “Let me do what I do.”
The bathroom was already warm. Steam clung to the tile and mirror as he nudged the shower on. The spray flowed in a steady rhythm, soft and hot against the glass. He stepped inside the walk-in with me in his arms, still holding me like I was precious and breakable. When my feet touched the floor, I swayed a little. He steadied me with both hands on my waist. He didn’t rush. He didn’t talk much either, just kissed my shoulder as he let the water run over us. My head lolled backwards, resting against his chest while the water drummed against us, washing the heat from our skin but not the tenderness.
He reached for the body wash and lathered it between his palms, then began to soap me up. My arms. My back. My legs.
“Tell me if this is too much,” he said quietly as his fingers smoothed between my thighs.
I shook my head. “Don’t stop.”
He kissed my temple, then my cheek, then the corner of my mouth. He washed every curve and crevice like he knew every spot but still approached it with discovery. I couldn’t speak even if I wanted to. I just let him clean the parts of me I always guarded, always rushed through on my way to this appointment or that surgery.
He helped me rinse, then reached for a towel and wrapped it around me gently before grabbing one for himself. When we stepped out, he didn’t hand me a robe. He dried me off, kneeling to pat my calves, my feet. Slathered my body with oil and butters then stood again meeting my eyes.
“I love taking care of you,” he said softly, brushing a finger along the side of my face.
My throat tightened. “I don’t know what to do with that.”
He smiled, not pitying, not amused. Lovingly. “You don’t have to do anything. Just let it be true.”
Back in the bedroom, he guided me under the covers. I curled on my side, muscles finally loose, heart too full to speak. Khalil climbed in behind me, wrapped an arm around my waist, and pulled me back against his chest, his warmth soaking into my spine. His hand moved over my stomach in slow, calming strokes. Not greedy. Not suggestive.
“You know I don’t need the perfect version of you, right?”
I swallowed. “I don’t always know what version I am.”
He kissed the back of my shoulder. “This one. Right now. The version that lets go.”
My eyes burned, but I didn’t cry. I let the silence stretch, safe in the arms of the only man who’d ever made me feel like being soft was a strength. Eventually, our breathing synced. His chest rose and fell behind me, steady and sure. Let sleep take me. No checklist. No deadline. No performance.
Just me.
Held.
Loved.
Enough.
Chapter 11
Khalil
She felt like peace.The kind of peace I’d been starving for since I could remember my first memory. The sunlight barely cracked the edge of the curtains, bathing the rust-colored walls in an amber glow, making her skin look softer than it already was. Her back pressed against my chest; our legs tangled like we’d done this a thousand times. Like our bodies remembered something she was still learning to say out loud.
She didn’t move, save for the small rise and fall of her chest as she slumbered next to me. Lavender from the body oil I’d rubbed into her skin the night before clung to her braids. I didn’t want to move. I wanted to stay in this. In this stillness with her.
But I felt it. The quiet tension in her body, like her mind had already started racing before she even had a chance to open her eyes. Like the fear of softness was hardwired into her more than anything else.
“You awake?” I murmured, my lips brushing the edge of her ear. Voice still low, still gravel and sleep.
“Mmm. Thinking about it,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
I smiled. “Well, you thinking too loud.”
“I am not.”
“You are,” I said, pressing a kiss behind her ear. “I can hear your brain gears grinding.”
