Chapter 36 January 19th It's early on Saturday morning, the hour when the city is still quiet and the light filtering through the blinds is faint, and the soft sound of running water pulls me toward the bathroom. Avery stayed over again last night, and not just because we can't seem to get enough of each other, but because June has a key to her place and is driving her crazy. She does phone check-ins, surprise drop-ins, coffee dates, bed turndown service, and everything in between, still reeling from the scare of having Avery missing for two weeks. Avery says, and I quote, "For all I know, she'll show up and try to offer assistance while I'm inserting your cock." Considering our current keeping-it-a-secret status, June's handy-dandy hand service seems like a step too far. Not to mention the implications of my best friend's wife putting her hand on my cock, in an assisting capacity or not, are a wee bit uncomfortable. Personally, I'm ready to be out in the open, but Avery's not and I understand why. Our friends and family are a lot. Just this morning alone, I've gotten three texts from Ronnie and Mav offering to stop by on their way home from the bar, a text from Beau checking in while he makes an early breakfast for Addy, and several missed calls from Cara about shit I don't even want to think about on the weekend. And Avery's got her parents, grandparents, and a whole other set of friends on top of that. The door to my bathroom is cracked open, steam curling out and filling the air with the scent of Avery-sweet and floral, like sugar and fresh roses. As I step inside, the sight of the counter makes me smile. It's covered in Avery's things. Little jars of face creams, a bottle of lotion she religiously applies to her legs before bed, leaving her skin impossibly soft and making her smell like a goddamn dessert. Even her silk eye mask is folded neatly to the side, which she claims is essential for preventing wrinkles. It's ridiculous and endearing all at once. Avery is what a lot of men would call "high-maintenance," and much like them, I used to find it intimidating. Women's minds and emotions are complex enough on their own-add in a fifty-step routine you can't interrupt or mess up with your own shit, and you're talking about climbing a mountain of understanding. But it's funny what a little perspective shift can do, and after spending every minute, awake and not, with Avery on that island, I feel like I understand her better than ever. Just as the wind blows for adventure and high adrenaline for me, fashion and beauty do it for Avery. She's passionate, and in my newly formed opinion, passion can't be misplaced. She cares about it, and I care about her, so that's all that matters. Plus, it's always but always a fucking adventure. The other night, she came to bed with this fucking hockey-mask-looking, Halloween-Jason-esque thing over her face and nearly gave me a heart attack. She told me it was red-light therapy, and before I knew it, she had me wearing the damn thing for the required twenty minutes to help heal any sun damage I got when we were stranded on the island. "Thirteen days without sunscreen, Henry, is just asking for skin cancer," she told me. "You need red-light therapy. And probably a skin peel, so I'll work on getting you an appointment at Fredrick. Oh my gawd. I swear, that man has magic hands or something. His facials are heaven." I, of course, made the small mistake of asking who Fredrick was, and that led to her telling me all about her aesthetician Fredrick who does Botox and all sorts of other shit I can't remember. I told her that I was down for her to do whatever she felt she needed to, but that it wasn't necessary for me to get to know Fredrick because I'm a man. But I got some kind of text message confirmation last night saying I have an appointment with Fredrick for a fucking face peel next week, so I'm pretty sure that boundary didn't hold at all. And you'll probably end up going, too. I laugh to myself as I glance toward the shower, the glass fogged but not enough to obscure Avery completely. She's standing under the stream of water, her head tilted back as she rinses shampoo from her hair. Her skin is still tanned from our time on the island, her body etched into my memory in a way I'll never shake. Without hesitating, I strip off my boxers and step into the shower with her. The warm water hits my skin, and she doesn't notice me at first, her eyes closed as she massages her scalp. "Let me do it," I say softly, my voice cutting through the sound of the water. Her eyes flutter open, one brow arching as she peeks at me through the curtain of water. "Do what?" "I know I probably don't have Freddie's magic hands, but..." I grin, stepping closer and gently turning her around so her back is to me. "Let me help." "Fredrick," she corrects through a snort. "My bad," I tease and give my best-aka horrible-French accent. "Fredrick." "Oh my God, you're so dumb." Avery laughs. "Fredrick is from Jersey." I shrug and get to work on tangling my fingers into her hair. The strands are silky and warm beneath my palms, and I take my time, massaging the shampoo suds from her scalp and working my way down. She lets out a soft hum of approval, and it's enough to make my chest tighten. "Damn, Henry. You're actually good at this," she murmurs, her voice lazy with contentment. "I have many talents," I reply, my lips quirking into a smirk she can't see. When her hair is free of suds, my hands drift to her shoulders, kneading the tension there. She sighs, her head tipping forward slightly, and I take it as permission to keep going. My fingers trail lower, massaging her neck and then her back, tracing the delicate tan lines left by her bikini. Her skin is soft and warm, and I'm reminded of all the nights we spent together on the island cuddled together like we were the only safe thing in each other's world. I move my hands to her hips, brushing my fingers over the curve of her waist, and I'm hit with a wave of something I can't quite name. It's not just lust-though, judging by the hardness of my cock, there's plenty of that too. But it's something deeper, something that roots itself in my fucking bones and refuses to let go. Avery glances over her shoulder at me, her eyes half lidded and soft. "You're quiet," she says, her tone light but curious. I lean in, pressing my lips to the damp skin of her shoulder. "Just thinking," I murmur against her. "About?" she prompts, turning slightly to face me. "About how you've taken over my bathroom," I tease, gesturing toward the counter outside the shower. She laughs, the sound easy and unguarded, and it's one of my favorite things about her. She's not embarrassed or unsure. She is who she is, take it or leave it. "You're welcome," she says, a playful glint in her eyes. I grin, pulling her closer and letting the water cascade over both of us. "Don't think I'm complaining," I say, my voice low. "I like having you here." Her expression softens, and for a moment, the playful banter fades into something quieter, more intimate. She doesn't say anything, but the way she looks at me says enough. She reaches up, her fingers brushing against my jaw, and I lean into her touch without hesitation. This...whatever it is between us, it's new, but it feels like it's always been there, just waiting for the right moment to surface. And now that it has, I'm not sure I can ever let it go. My hands find their way to her shoulders and neck again, and I massage my fingers into the skin some more, silently loving the way her body relaxes into my touch. And I keep going until the urge to touch more of her body is undeniable. I trace my fingers along her tan lines, until I use just one gentle index finger across her hips. I turn her body around, still using that one index finger to trace across her back until both of my hands caress her perfect ass. It's round and firm and plump in ways that go straight to my fucking head. My cock grows harder at the feel of her plush body in my big hands, and I slide that one finger over the curve of her ass until it rests right between her thighs. A little moan leaves her lips. I press my chest into her back, my finger still precariously hovering at the one place I'm desperate to slide my hard cock into. "Mine," I whisper gruffly into her ear. She moans again. I reach up with both hands and grasp the curves of her breasts, my fingers gently pinching at her nipples while my hard cock presses against the curve of her ass. "Mine," I whisper again. Avery moves her hips, rubbing her ass into my cock, and my head is swimming with need for her. We had sex last night. We even had sex this morning before she got in the shower. But when it comes to her, I never feel like it's enough. I want her. All of her. All the time. Avery spreads her thighs a little, urging me on, and I press the tip of my cock inside her. I'm hard, so fucking hard, and when another little moan leaves her lips, I'm so insanely tempted to push myself all the way in until I'm pressed to the hilt inside her. But I'm bare. Completely bare. And that reality is not lost on me. "I don't have a condom," I admit, a gruff rasp to my voice. "So? That's never stopped you before." She's not wrong. On the island, we had lots of sex without protection, and since we got back, we haven't been great about remembering a condom either. But I've pulled out. It's important that I pull out. But fuck, I'd give a lot of things to know what it feels like to come deep inside her. "Please, Henry," Avery begs. How can I say no to that? I slide myself inside her, droplets of water still splashing onto both of us from the showerhead. I grip her hips and turn her toward the glass shower wall, pressing her body against it as I thrust myself inside her tight pussy. Both of her hands move to the glass, bracing herself, and my eyes catch sight of the erotic display in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. Her breasts are pushed against the glass, and her lips are parted in a way that makes my cock grow even harder inside her. I can't take my eyes off us. Off her. The way her mouth forms a little O when she moans. The way her eyes are heated with arousal. The way strands of her wet hair hang over her shoulders and her breasts bounce with each thrust of my cock. She's so tight and so warm and damn near pulsating around me, and the urge to come starts to build at the base of my spine. "Fuck, you feel so good. Too good," I say, practically grunting out the words. You're everything. Avery whimpers. I drive myself deeper and deeper. Over and over and over again. And I can feel her body grow tight like a bow with pleasure. It's as if each thrust of my cock is pushing her closer to the edge. It's like her pleasure is my pleasure, and there's no in-between. If she feels good, I feel fucking good. "Keep going," she moans. "Don't pull out." "Fuck, Avery. Don't say shit like that." "Don't pull out," she repeats. "I'm back on my birth control. Come inside me." The combination of her words and her pussy wrapped around me like a vise is almost too much. I grit my teeth. "Avery." "Please, Henry," she pleads through panting breaths. "I want it." There's no logic in her words. But when it comes to her, there's clearly no logic for me at all. Whatever she wants, I want to give it to her. She's an all-consuming force that I can't refuse, and she's the one and only woman on the planet I'd do anything for. I drive my cock inside her, over and over, until I feel her pussy clenching around me in rhythmic waves and hear pleasure-filled moans escape her lungs. And then, I come. Deep inside her. And it's the best thing I've ever felt in my fucking life. There's no going back from this. There's no going back from her.