Page 92 of Fearlessly Us

When he finishes with himself, he shuts off the water and dries me off, wrapping me in a towel and slinging one around his waist before guiding me out of the shower. I grab my brush from the counter, tugging it through my hair as I turn to face Drew, my gaze raking over him. His hair is sexily mussed from rubbing the towel over it. His eyes still swirl with a touch of heat, and water droplets roll down his muscled chest and torso before disappearing into the towel wrapped low on his hips.

Mine.

All fucking mine.

What even is this life?

“You keep looking at me like that and I’m going to tear that sorry excuse for a towel off your body and toss you straight onto my bed,” Drew practically growls, stalking towards me and backing me against the vanity, his lips hovering over mine, his whiskey eyes flashing with intensity.

I smirk at him, sliding a hand around to squeeze his ass and chuckling when he jolts. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that at all.”

He groans, leaning his forehead against mine. “Later,” he mumbles, pressing a lingering kiss to my lips. “That was a lot, and you need water and a snack and one of my T-shirts with absolutely nothing on underneath so I have easy access when I take it off you.”

I grin at him, propping a hand on my hip. “Just make sure it doesn’t have your name on the back.”

“Brat,” Drew says with a grin, kissing my nose before taking the brush out of my hand and spinning me to face the mirror. He drags the brush through my hair slowly, working the knots out one by one. He watches what he’s doing, face a mask of concentration, and I watch him. Us. The way we look together. How well we fit. I like the thought of it, I decide. Fitting with someone else.

With him.

Setting the brush aside, Drew gathers my hair up and divides it into three sections, winding the damp strands into a braid the way he does so often, and like always, this little thing I’ve done for myself a million times in my life takes on a whole new meaning when he’s the one doing it. As he works and I watch, my mind spins, playing the tape all the way to the end, seeing us here tomorrow and the next day and years down the road, letting him take care of me and taking care of him in return. A small thing for some people, but not for me. And, I know, not for him either.

I want it, I think.

Me and him. This life. Just…this.

More of this.

“What are you thinking about?” Drew asks, turning me back to face him, cupping my face in his hands and stroking my cheeks as his eyes search mine.

Smiling, I bring my hands to his waist, my thumbs drawing circles on the taut, warm skin. “You,” I say simply. “I’m thinking about you. And this. How much I like it. I’ve never…” I pause, thinking about how much to say, deciding to just go for it. “I’ve never had anything like this before. I convinced myself I didn’t want it or need it when the truth is, I just didn’t know how to ask for it, and it was easier to take care of everyone else than it was to ask to be taken care of…or show my people that’s what I needed. But then you came along and gave me exactly what I needed without me having to ask.” I take a deep breath, keeping my eyes locked on his. “I think maybe I never had anything like this before because it’s you I needed.”

“Oh baby,” Drew murmurs, pulling me gently to him, wrapping an arm around my waist and stroking my hair with his free hand. I wind my arms around his waist and lean my head on his chest, and when he presses a kiss to my hair, I think I’ve never felt so content in my life. “It’s you I needed too. I’ve spent my entire life thinking it was easier never to get close to anyone because if I never let anyone in, I would never have to watch anyone go. But you make me want all the things I never thought were for me. A life. A home. Forever,” he says quietly, “but only if I get to have those things with you.”

It’s as close to a love confession as we’ve ever gotten. The words are right there, hovering in the space between us, waiting to be spoken out loud. But because I don’t think either of us is ready for them quite yet, I ease back, smirking up at him. “Well, aren’t we just the poster children for healthy communication.”

Drew snorts, gripping my waist and lifting me onto the counter, reaching around me to grab the lotion I keep by his sink. “I’m not sure I would go that far,” he says, pumping some of the lotion into his hand and gliding it over my arms, rubbing it in slowly. “But I think maybe I’m closer than I ever have been before, because of you.”

I smile, leaning in and kissing his cheek. “Me too.”

Drew moves to my legs and then my feet, stopping like he always does when he gets to my painted toes, running a thumb over the red polish with a smile before standing and rubbing lotion onto my shoulders. Unknotting the towel, his hands then glide down my sides. He stops, as always, without touching my stomach. But this time he doesn’t move to my back. This time his hands still, thumbs brushing my hips. “Can I?” he asks, his eyes dropping to my belly and moving back to mine.

My stomach ties itself into knots as I resist the urge to wrap the towel tightly back around my body. To hide the four surgical scars that mar my skin and the slight bulge that is the potential harbinger of a terrible period hovering in the distance, the efficacy of my surgery still a big unknown.

But I take a deep breath, looking into Drew’s golden eyes and seeing only patience there. Understanding. A deep desire for me exactly as I am, scars and broken parts and all. I might not like all of me, but he does, I realize. And maybe, with him, I can learn to like those parts of me too.

“Okay,” I whisper, my hands curling around the edge of the vanity, holding on so tightly my knuckles turn white.

Drew’s eyes swirl and he leans in to kiss me, long and slow. When he eases back, he keeps his eyes on mine, pumping more lotion into his hands. And he never looks away from me as he rubs his hands together and brings them back to my hips, resting them there briefly before sliding them slowly to my stomach. When his hands smooth gently over my belly, I suck in a breath, the touch foreign, unknown, almost like it’s happening to someone else and not to me.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs, finally moving his eyes to where his hands stroke gently over my skin. Reverently, like even this part of me I’ve been at war with for so much of my life is worth worshipping too. “So beautiful.” Drew drops to his knees in front of me, leaning in and pressing a kiss to each of my scars, his hands smoothing over every spot his lips caress. And with each kiss, each touch, it’s like Drew gives me back a piece of myself I thought had been lost forever.

Except they hadn’t been lost forever, I realize. I just needed Drew to help me find them.

By the time he stands back up, his hands still resting right on the part of me I’ve always thought was broken, I’m flayed open before him. My stomach swirls and my eyes burn and love for this man fills me so completely, it’s a wonder I ever existed without it. Without him.

“You’re not broken, Catie.” Drew brings his hands to the sides of my neck, his eyes moving between mine. “You’re beautiful. Perfect. A fucking miracle. My miracle.” He covers my mouth with his, kissing me deeply, urgently, with passion and purpose, letting his lips say everything we haven’t yet put into words.

And sitting here mostly naked on his bathroom counter, Drew’s lips on mine and all of him surrounding me, for the first time in as long as I can remember, I’m whole.