Page 60 of At Your Mercy
By the time I reached his apartment building, my pulse was a drumbeat in my ears. I wasn’t a praying man, but fuck did I pray that Ronan was in there. I took the stairs two at a time, racing to his floor. When I finally got to his door, I knocked, hard, then softer, then harder again. “Ro? It’s me. It’s Wes.”
No answer.
When I tried the handle, it turned too easily. The door was unlocked, swinging inward, and my chest went cold.
“Ro?” My voice carried into the quiet apartment.
Nothing.
“It’s Wes. I’m coming in,” I called out.
I stepped inside, senses sharpening, every muscle coiled tight. The place was small enough that I could sweep it with a glance—the living room empty, the kitchen dark, the bedroom untouched, which left only one place.
The faint hiss of water carried down the hall. I followed it, heat pressing against me before I even reached the bathroom. Steam seeped under the door, damp and heavy.
I pushed it open.
And froze.
Ro was sitting on the floor of the shower, still dressed, knees to his chest, just rocking. Water pounded down on him, plastering his pale hair to his skull and soaking the glittering dress clinging to his body.
For a second, all I could do was stare, heartbroken at the sight of him so small, so fragile, when he always carried himself like nothing in the world could touch him.
Then I moved, not caring that my jeans immediately soaked through as the scalding spray hit my shoulders. I slid into the shower with him, lowering myself into the tub, my arms slipping around his trembling frame, pulling him against me.
He didn’t fight—he didn’t even seem to notice at first, rocking against my chest, silent. My hands smoothed over his back, his arms, wherever I could reach. “I’m here,” I murmured, voice rough. “You’re not alone. I’ve got you.” I noticed his soaked heels and gently pulled them off his feet, discarding them onto the bathroom floor.
Minutes passed—or maybe seconds. I couldn’t tell. Then, gradually, something shifted.
His body stilled and his head lifted, just enough for his red-rimmed eyes to meet mine. The silence finally cracked, and he broke apart.
A choked sob tore free, followed by another. Then he clutched at me, fingers fisting in my shirt, clinging like he was drowning and I was the only thing keeping him afloat.
I held him tighter, letting the water wash over us both.
Whatever had happened, whatever ghosts had crawled out of his past tonight, I wasn’t letting him face them alone.
The water hammered down on us, hot enough to burn, but neither of us moved. I held him in my arms, trembling and wet, my shirt plastered to my skin, jeans heavy as stone.
“Ro,” I whispered into his hair, tightening my hold, “what happened? Talk to me. Please. Are you hurt? Did someone—” My voice cracked. “Just tell me what’s wrong so I can help. Please, babydoll.”
He didn’t answer—not at first. He just shook against me, his breath shallow and erratic. My palm smoothed over his back in slow circles, desperate to soothe him.
Then his head tipped back, pale lashes clumped with water, his gaze locking onto mine. “Wes,” he rasped, voice shredded raw. “Please… just—please fuck me.”
The words hit me like a jolt. I blinked at him, my chest tightening. “Ro…”
His nails dug into my shoulders; the plea was desperate and unsteady. “I need it,” he gasped. “Hard. Rough. Please, Wes. Right here. Now.”
I shook my head, disbelief and worry tangling. “You told me yesterday we weren’t doing this again. And look at you—you’re not in the right state. You’re—”
“I think I’m going to do something I can’t take back if you don’t—” His voice broke on the confession, trembling with thekind of truth that made my stomach drop. “I can’t stop thinking—I need—something. Please.”
I swallowed hard, torn in two. Every instinct screamed not to take advantage of him like this, not when he was wrecked, soaked through, and shaking in my arms. But the way he clung to me—like I was his last hope—made it impossible to turn away.
“Ro…” I murmured again, forehead pressing against his, trying to steady both of us. “Let me get you out of here, get you dry, and then maybe—”
He shook his head violently, water droplets scattering. “No!Now.If you leave me with my head, I’ll—” He cut himself off, but the wild panic in his eyes said everything. A shattered whisper slipped from his lips, “I’m scared.”
