Now that they are torn apart, Sadie tries to decipher Malcolm's final words to her. But when she finally seeks out the answers to her lingering questions, she comes face-to-face with the very man who threatens Malcolm's future--and her own. In a life or death struggle, can Sadie overcome her fears and save both Malcolm and herself?
Exhausted, my eyes swollen from crying, I leaned into him, and he kissed me, so sweet and soft I thought I would shatter all over again.
He carried me down the stairs, just as he did when I couldn't walk on my own, and when he washed me in the bath, this time he let his hands and fingers linger on me, in places I once thought he might never touch again.
First, he ran warm water from the faucet and filled it part way before turning it off and setting me on my feet in the tub. “Kneel,” he commanded.
I complied, turning my back to the faucet, my legs trembling. I bent my head in submission, giving him complete access to me, and I was rewarded with a warm gush of water over my back from a soft sponge. Gently Malcolm ran it in circles and spirals over my back, around my ribs, down over the flare of my hips. Then he abandoned the sponge entirely and used his hands.
There was an urgency to his touch this time, a swift, anxious nervousness, as though he were trembling on the precipice of remembering something very important, as though words that could change his life stood at the tip of his tongue, waiting to be said.
His hands swirled down and around the round cheeks, slipping into the valley between them, gently massaging away the paint.
Again he picked up the sponge and gushed warm water over me, this time over my shoulders, so that rivulets ran down my collarbone, trickled over my breasts and fell from my nipples like raindrops from branches. The whispery caress of water flowed through me and in me, and I shuddered with desire...
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