How am I going to fix this?

I wait for half an hour, then another. He doesn’t come back. I slowly walk from the room and head to the bedroom he made me stay in when I first got here. The halls are empty, and no one seems to be around. I’m just about to enter my room when I hear the sound of water running. I turn my focus to what I know is Dimitri’s room. My heart burns and I find myself turning toward the sound.

He might hate me but I need to know he’s okay.

I open the door quietly and peer into the room. I see the light coming from under the door to his bathroom. I hesitate, knowing I should really just turn back. I can’t, though. I have to check on him. It’s my fault he’s in there. It’s my fault he’s broken. I let him down, there’s no excuse for that. I reach the bathroom door and take the handle, swallowing down the anxiety rising in my chest.

I shove the door open softly and step in. I’m faced with a cloud of steam. I feel it stick to my skin as I step in farther. I draw closer to the shower and see Dimitri standing in it. My heart breaks in two. He has his back to me, and he’s completely, beautifully naked. His arms are crossed and pressed on the wall in front of him, and his head is hanging between them.

I take the biggest risk I’ve ever taken in my life to date.

I strip off and I step into the shower. I reach out with trembling fingers and touch his shoulder. He flinches, but not enough. He knew I was there. Slowly he turns, and I feel my knees buckle with pure agony when I see his face. He’s got red, glassy eyes and he looks grief-stricken. He’s shed a few tears. Not a lot, but a few. For a man like Dimitri, that is a massive thing.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

What else is there to say?

His eyes scan my face and I watch as a tear escapes from the corner of his eye. I reach up and catch it before it blends with the water coursing down to drip off his chin, and his eyes follow my fingers. I lift them and cup his cheek. He closes his eyes, almost as though he’s in pain, but he allows me to keep my hand there.

“I made a mistake,” I whisper. “I’m sorry, Dimi. I didn’t know how your life has been, but I should have told you I saw Hendrix. I will tell you where he is, I’ll let you do this your way, but I need you to understand something first. I need you to really, really think about what I am saying. To you, Hendrix is a monster. To me, Dimi, he’s the only family I have. He saved my life. He gave me a second chance. He didn’t have to do that. He didn’t have to let me find my sunshine. I know he let you down and for that, I’m truly sorry. But it was never up to him to be the one that made sure you were okay. It was up to your momma, and she failed. You can hate him—I couldn’t and wouldn’t ask you to change who you are for me. But I can’t . . . I can’t stand by and watch you hurt the only family I have left. I love him, Dimi. Not in the way I’m learning to love you. No, I love him in the way everyone should love their family. So, if you want to know where he is, I’ll tell you. But I can’t stand by and watch you take the only thing I have left.”

I turn once I’m finished, and I lift a fist and shove a tear from my cheek. I’m just about to step out of the shower when Dimitri’s hand lashes out and he jerks me back. I spin around and face him, my vision blurred with my tears. His finger raises up and he swipes them from my cheek. Then he moves his hands to cup my face. He’s never touched me so gently, never looked at me with such . . . passion. Slowly, as if the world has stopped turning and it’s only the two of us in it, he leans down and presses his lips to mine.

And he kisses me.

He doesn’t kiss me like he’s kissed me before. He kisses me like I’m the last breath he’ll ever take. He kisses me like I’m the only reason he wakes up every day. He kisses me like I matter. His hands move from my cheeks and slide down my neck, causing little shivers to break out all over my body. When they reach my shoulders, he uses them to bring me closer, pressing my naked body to his.

I can feel him there, ready for me.

I want him, but not here. Right now, I just want this to be about him. I want him to know that all I care about in this moment is him. I reach up and gently take his shoulders, using them to push us back apart. He looks confused as I slowly spin him around to face the wall again. I step up close, pressing my chest to his back. He shivers. I reach around and place my hands on his belly, stroking my fingers up and down.

“It’s not about me, Dimi,” I say softly. “It’s about you. Let me touch you. Know that I would never, ever hurt you.”

He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t move either. He lets me move my hands down his abs, running my fingertips over the hard ridges there. When I reach his pelvis, I hesitate. I want to touch him, but once I do, there’s no going back. I’m committing myself to someone like him and someone like him isn’t easy. He’s damaged and moody and completely fucked up.

But he’s also beautiful, loving, and kind.

In a sense, if we go to the basics, he’s just like me.

And I’m completely okay with that.

So I keep going. I lower my hands until they graze over his cock. The nerves in my stomach are making me sick, but I keep telling myself that this is what I want. It’s not forced. It’s not a choice made for me. This is something we both want and need. I reach out and curl my fingers around his cock, feeling the thick, hard length jerk in my grip.

My legs wobble.

I close my eyes and press my cheek to his back as I begin to gently stroke up and down. I can feel his rumble of pleasure radiate through my cheek. I break into tiny little shivers and I tighten my grip, feeling him stiffen as I put pressure on his cock and then release it seconds later. Then I take my thumb and I run it over the tip. The skin is soft and smooth. I never would have imagined I could find this . . . beautiful.