BROKEN COURAGE (Broken Redemption Book 3)

Chapter 45

Lucas

"I'll be right back, sweetheart." I press a soft kiss to her lips before gathering her clothes from the floor and carrying them into the bedroom to drop them into the hamper. On my way, I grab my phone and tap out a quick message to Jenny, letting her know I'm running a bath for Embree and to text if she and the girls need anything. With fresh clothes in hand, I return to the bathroom and her reclining against the tub, her eyes closed.

God, she's breathtaking. The sight of her hits me so hard it nearly hurts. But underneath that beauty, I see exhaustion, the strain, a weariness etched in every line of her face. Even as she does her best to relax in the warm water, tension clings to her body—the tightness in her shoulders, and her pinched expression, serve as a reminder of the nightmare she's endured. She needs a break from all this. We need all of this to end, so she can return to living the life she deserves. Not one where she's held captive in our home, burdened by fear and uncertainty.

Anger simmers over my skin, but I push it down as I kneel beside the tub and reach over to turn off the water. Her eyes open when she senses I'm here.

"No, sweetheart. Lie back and relax." I urge, my hand gently caressing the side of her face. "You need this, Emb. Just let go for a moment. Let the warm water wash everything away."

"I do need this." Her voice trembles as tears gather once more in her eyes. "I really, really do."

"Then take all the time you need. If you want to be alone, that's okay too. Just tell me what you need and I'll make it happen."

Eyes suddenly wide with fear, she shakes her head and her hand comes up to cover mine, which still rests against her cheek. "No. Please don't go. What I need is you. Stay. Help me forget."

Slowly, she drags our hands together from her face to her neck, down to the damp skin of her chest, guiding us into the water over her soft, pillowy breasts. The second I feel the hardened pebble of her nipple against my palm, a groan escapes from deep within my chest. And when she looks up at me, her lids heavy with desire and need swirling in her gaze, I'm powerless to resist.

Leaning in, I knead her breast as my lips capture hers in a kiss that starts tender, but quickly turns into something raw, something primal—a need to reclaim her. My hand moves to her other breast—heavy and swollen—rolling her nipple between my fingers just as her tongue slides into my mouth, hungry and demanding. For once I let her lead, let her take from me whatever she needs, because that's why I'm here. That's why I exist. To give her everything.

When she moans into my mouth and sucks on my lower lip, I lose all semblance of control. Desperate to touch her, I slide my trembling hand down her body, tracing the soft, wet curves until my fingers slip between her folds. When her hips rise, grinding up against me, it takes every ounce of strength I have not to lift her out of this tub, so I can lay her on our bed and bury myself deep inside of her.

This is about her. Do as she says and help her forget.

It takes everything in me to reign in my overwhelming desire to have her, urges which are only made worse by the silky heat that ensnares my fingers as I slide in and out of her. Lost to the feel of her body, to the euphoria that comes with granting the pleasure she deserves, it's not lost on me how precariously close I came to losing her. To losing everything we are, everything we could be.

As the burn behind my eyes intensifies, so does the rhythm of my touch. Intent to truly make her forget everything but this—us—I concentrate on her body, stimulating all those important parts of her that make her mewl and squirm with pleasure. Encouraged by the way she moves and the sounds she's making, I alternate between light teasing strokes and deeper, more sensual caresses. My other hand moves to her breasts, swirling and pinching the tight buds until her entire body quakes beneath my touch.