46: LUKE

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“Just give her five bloody minutes!” Keira erupts.

I have no idea what happened to Ainsley. I expected the fury, counted on it, and shamefully even hoped for it, but what left our room was not Hurricane Ainsley. It was the rubbish swept up by her wake.

I give her two minutes. That’s two minutes more than I want to. I follow the blood trail to the bathroom, then to the shower, where I haul back the curtain and see the worst darn thing I’ve ever seen in my whole trawling life. It guts me to my seabed. She’s naked, truly naked. I’ve seen her without her clothes on before multiple times, but I’ve never seen her like this, open and raw with such vulnerability I’d do anything to cover it up.

I grab hold of her, pull her into my lap, and her anchor stops roaring. I force her hand open to survey the damage. There are shards of the broken rainbow rose jutting out of her palm. She tries to snatch her hand away like a toddler with a wad of candy, so I hold it tighter.

“You need Maverick to get this earth garbage out of you,” I whirlpool.

She shakes her head furiously, and I fight not to be a scut about her resistance despite how much I want to turn her over my knee and spank her petulant butt until it’s as red as her darn hand. If I act like a pissed punk, she won’t let me help her. I grunt my frustration before softening my approach. “Then can you please hold still so I can get them out?” I foam, my tone thankfully more gentle than the words sound in my head.

She nods her consent, and I form tweezers of ice using my wielded water spark, starting the process of carefully extracting every shard from her palm. I try to ignore that she’s staring at me the whole time I work, not remotely interested in her ruined hand but entirely interested in my shoaled brow. The shards are everywhere, and it takes forever to get them all out.

When it’s done, I drop the tweezers to the shower floor where they melt into the drain. I place my palm against hers, gently coating it with a sheen sheet of ice to protect it from exposure and reduce the pain until she can get it properly healed. The emergency is over, but I can’t move, shocked she willingly let me help her. I still can’t bring myself to look at her, though she’s yet to look away from me once.

The water from the continued stream of the shower has soaked me through, but I can’t think of any place I’d rather be than with this beautiful darn girl sitting here safely in my lap. She reaches her hand up to sweep my drenched hair away from eyes, then rests it against my cheek. When she pushes her water spark into me, mine lights with joy at the reunion.

“I’m sorry for trying to force you into being with me,” she paps in a voice I don’t recognize. It’s hollow.

I finally turn to look at her. “You weren’t trying to force anything I didn’t want.”

Her eyes are super red from crying, puffy like she’s been crying for a while, and my guilt slaps the snot out of me. I thought when she went on that date, the worst of the scuttlefest would be her sparks acting up and frying the punk’s junk off, but it doesn’t seem like that’s what happened. Did he reject her too? What sort of idiot scut would do that? Right. This idiot scut.

“I wanted it,” I tell her again in case I didn’t make it clear before. “I still want it. And I’m a weak little weeny wavelet to say no without even letting you try.”

She shifts in my lap to straddle me, determined to look me in the eye at my level. “What’re you so scared of?”

“Of losing you,” I choke out, Mariana trenching a nervous lump down my throat over the admission.

“I’m not a wild thing to be tamed,” she snicks. “I won’t ever be tamed. That’s never changing. But I’m stronger than you give me credit for and not nearly strong enough at the same time. Not when it comes to you. You might not be able to tame me, but you can have me here right now, like this, when my heart’s split the heck open and begging to be filled with something, anything, that lets me forget how hollow I feel, even if it’s just for a few dang minutes.”

“I don’t know if that’s enough.”

“What do you want from me then?” she quickfires.

“Everything.”

“But, right now, in this moment, am I enough for you? That’s what I’m offering you,” she accurizes.

I want more, but I can survive with less. Not having her at all would be far, far worse. I wouldn’t survive that. I thought I could be done. I told Keira I was and meant it. But seeing her here like this, offering herself to me, even after all the attempts to push her away, I know I can never be done with her. She’s buried in me too deep, wound around everything I want to be. All I can see is my future with her, and without her I’m half the man I have the potential to become. She makes me want to be the best version of myself. Not for her but for me. Like I deserve that me, even if I don’t deserve her.

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“You’re enough,” I scupper. “I’d take any sip you saw fit to give me. I’m thirsty as heck over here.”

“Then poke the straw in the dang juice box already,” she dryfires.

I sploosh a laugh, and she leans closer to me, her breath caressing my lips.

“You have about three seconds to recant that offer,” I spray. “Otherwise, you’re going to be stuck with the consequence of your choice.”

Her giggles ricochet through the shower and penetrate my heart. The sound, and the smile on her lips that comes with it, batters away every last ounce of my restraint. “I can’t lose you.”

“Then keep me, White Horse. Just don’t try to tame me.”

“Two seconds,” I breakwater.

“One second,” she clips, clearly challenging me.

There’s a beat of silence between us, then all the humour goes out of her voice. “Zero. Freaking. Seconds. Time to giddy-the-heck-up.”

My mouth crashes into hers in a tidal wave of desire, at last free to sate this impossible need. Her lips split wide and swallow my tongue, sending a flood of warmth back through me that streams right to my soul. Her fingers snake through my hair, pulling me closer so we meet in the exact middle of the bridge finally connecting us.

I start hauling her up to stand with me, intending to coax her out of the shower and back to our bed to properly board her. But she’s impatient. Once we’re standing, she jumps up, wrapping her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. I have no choice but to walk us toward the shower wall.

Her lips crash into mine this time, strengthening the kiss until I’m sure as all heck our lips will bruise from the force of it. I feel her air spark gusting through me and freeze. “Loose air,” I gurgle into her mouth.

“Shoot,” she holsters, putting it on lockdown.

Her mouth softens against mine. All the built up desire I felt rushing out calms with that minor change. She skates feather-light kisses across my lips, my cheek, my neck, and she awkwardly reaches down to pull up my shirt which is a little tricky on account of it being soaking wet. I chuckle and help her get it the rest of the way off.

She leans back against the wall and draws a long, calming breath before hauling me back against her. The connection of her bare skin on mine opens up all those channels, and I can feel her water spark pouring into every inch of my chest. I gasp into her mouth as her fire spark sneaks through.

“Crap shoot,” she backstops, closing that gate as quickly as she can.

I feel the heat of her through my wet pants, and I grind myself against her trigger. She moans into my mouth and tightens her thighs around my waist. I shift against her, continuing that grinding movement to increase the pressure between us. She starts panting into my mouth, her chest rising and falling against me, surfing along my slick skin. I worry I might slosh my pants from the sensation of that touch alone, but my worry is smothered by a crushing weight in my propellers where her earth spark is filling them. I wince from the pain of it.

“Squibbing crap shoot,” she slamfires.

She’s growing more and more frustrated with herself as her sparks start working against her in a way she can’t manage. Her anchor roars its defiance, and she roars right along with it, unwinding her legs from my back. “You have to let me go.”

Swash that. No trawling way. I’m not letting her go. I can’t let her leave. She’s everything I want and more, and even if her sparks tear through every inch of my hull, I’ll let them lay that claim if it means having her.

“You’re not losing me,” she reports, gritting her teeth as her sparks rage on inside her. “We just have to stop, or I’m gunna blow my load.”

I laugh in spite of myself because she isn’t alone in that.

“Please don’t give up on me,” she begs, and there’s actual fear in her voice.

“I’ll never give up on you,” I promise, and I hold her tighter while she continues to shake against me.

I try to do the thing Keira always does, hoping it might help. “Where does your joy live?”

“With my family...” she hangfires.

She struggles to maintain steady breaths, and I can’t do anything except keep holding her like a useless rip. I can just barely make out what she’s saying. She’s saying names. Her brothers. Her friends. But it isn’t working, and I’m on the verge of scuttling my ship. I hear her murmur Keira, Aspen, and Maverick, so I haul her into my arms, determined to bring her to them. She knows she needs them. She’s asking for them.

“Luke…” she hangfires again.

I barely hear my name, but the sound of it on her lips sends a wave of warmth washing through me that’s swallowed by my own undertow. I have to save her, get her out of the danger I’ve put her in.

“Wait,” she pleads. “Look at me.”

I don’t want to. I can’t bear to see the fear in her eyes. I haven’t kept her safe. I’ve been a selfish scut letting my darn rudder steer me, and now she’s all messed up like a soup sandwich again because of me.

“Look at me,” she repeats more firmly.

I drop my gaze to meet her stunning brownish-grey eyes, and it’s almost like they’re sparkling. The fear I’d been trying to avoid seeing isn’t there. Something else is.

Hope.

Love.

Joy.

“You’re my bucket, Luke.”

That’s when I finally realize her anchor has stopped roaring, but it’s more than that. She holds her naked wrist out to show me she’s earned her freedom from the dock blocker entirely.

“I lifted my anchor.” She clicks her tongue. “Your freaking move, White Horse.”

I haul her up over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes I’m about to eat the stern off of.

“What the heck are you doing?” she squeals.

“I have a critical promise to keep,” I swell, “and it’s not going to be in a public washroom. It’s going to be in our bed.”

I start running with her down the hall, gripping her by the butt to keep hold of her while her bullets bounce off my back. She volleys giggles the whole way. I tear into the room with gaping eyes meeting mine. “Get. Out. Now!” I billow.

“Is it really happening, Boss?” Aspen outgasses.

“Oh my dark, it’s really happening!” Maverick slags.

“It’s about bloody time,” Keira crackles, grabbing them by the hands and hauling them out of the room. “Such stubborn flints.”