“Cleaning you up again.” I wink at her, wondering if that’s a plausible enough excuse to touch her because I can’t get enough, and I want her to feel good. Always.
Her brow raises. “Oh, really?”
I nod, making a nice lather between my hands before slipping my hand into the water and stroking my fingers through the folds of her cunt.
“You know most of that soap just dissipated into the water the second you put your hand under the surface, right?” Elliot’s brow quirks as she waits for my reaction.
“Every little bit counts.”
Her lips twitch, and I can tell she’s trying hard not to smile. “Is that so?”
“Yep.” I leisurely rub my fingers over her clit, watching the swiftly changing expression on her face. I’ve never studied anyone so intently while being the one touching them like this. I think I like it. I gather her to me, kissing her soft and slow, while keeping up a steady pressure on her swollen clit. And a few moments later—completely unexpected because I’ve never made someone come so fast in my life—she shatters for me.
Once we’ve finally rinsed her hair, exited the tub, and toweled off, I sit Elliot back on the counter and pat her inner thigh dry where the wound is before applying some antibiotic ointment. After that, I gently place a piece of gauze over the area and loosely tape it to her skin. “That oughta do it, Peaches.” I lean in and brush her lips with mine, then squeeze her knee as I straighten. “Stay here for a sec.”
I wrap a towel around my waist and leave the bathroom, then proceed to rummage through the chest of drawers that is home to her T-shirts, sleep shorts, and other assorted underthings. I pick out a few items of clothing and head back to the bathroom only to find her eyes fixated on the tub where everything just happened between us. Her cheeks are so pink, they must be burning hot. “What’s up?” I frown, carefully scanning her features, and set the pair of stretchy sleep shorts and shirt on the counter. I squint at her, cocking my head to the side.
“Nothing.”
For lack of a better word, she seems a little…off. I shake my head and pick up the T-shirt, helping her into it. “Uh-uh. Talk to me, Peaches.”
“I’m too embarrassed to tell you.” She bites down on her lip and shuts her eyes.
A deep furrow carves the center of my forehead. “Don’t, baby. Don’t keep things from me. I’m begging you.” And even as the words come out of my mouth, I know the chances of her continuing to keep things from us is high.
“You,” she exhales heavily, eyeing me, “you made me forget all the shitty things that happened earlier today.” She gestures to the tub. “That’s what I was thinking. You walked out to get my clothes, and my eyes locked on that bathtub. And it occurred to me once you started touching me, I had a hard time thinking about anything else but the way you made me feel.” She lets out a relieved sigh, shrugging. “So, I don’t know if that was the idea or what but thank you.”
“Peaches, your well-being is my number-one priority right now. I would have done anything you asked of me. Still will,” I grunt, snagging the shorts off the counter and stooping a moment to guide her feet into the leg holes. As I help her from the counter so we can get them the rest of the way up, I continue with an apologetic grimace. “It was a little the same for me. The moment I had you naked in my arms, I had a whole lot of trouble remembering what we were doing in the tub in the first place.” I work the shorts carefully over the bandage, then ease them up over her hips and ass. “I was just a guy who wanted his girl so bad it hurt.” I scrape my teeth over my lip, drawing her close and hugging her body to mine. “Come on. You should rest.”
Her head nods against my chest. “Yeah. I’m exhausted. What time is it?”
“It’s like three, I think.” I walk her into the bedroom and let her climb into the bed and lie down.
“Do you think Cannon and Kingston are okay?”
I nod. “Yeah. Kingston… well, he’s had longer to process some of this.” I wet my lips. “As for Cannon… K knows how to deal with him. But Cannon needs to de-stress, keep track of his diet, and make sure he’s getting enough sleep.”
She winces. “In hindsight, were the signs there the last time? I mean—”
“Of the impending seizure? Likely. But he doesn’t always share what’s happening.”
“Oh.”
I can tell she’s totally taking on some of the blame for it, even though she shouldn’t. “It’s kinda unpredictable, Peaches. And not something you need to worry about right now. Just rest. I’m going to go grab a pair of joggers. Be right back.”
No more than a minute later, I let myself back into her room to find her sound asleep. We probably should have thought about drying her hair before this, but it’s a little late for that now. I observe her for longer than necessary, but that’s just me. Watching the light movement of her chest as she inhales and hearing the soft sound of her exhale… I don’t know. It grounds me, even as my head sorts through all the questions I have for her.
I wonder if Elliot will ever tell us more about Nick and what drove her to begin harming herself in the first place. Dude’s an asshole for certain. I let out a sigh. No sense in coming up with what-ifs. She’ll talk when she’s ready, and I doubt that’s anytime soon. For now, I want nothing more than to climb into that bed, curl my body around hers, and make sure she feels protected. Wanted. Because I have a feeling in the time Nick had her, his narcissistic ass tried to rip both of those notions of security away from her.
But— It’s also on me to care for her in other ways. One of those is to figure out what we’re missing, why she left class on her own, and if there’s been something I’ve overlooked on the video feeds, something that could give us a clue.
I jerk to a stop. Before I can do any of that, though, I have to ensure her physical safety. It pains me, but the unthinkable would be to have her begin to self-harm again over this. She, herself, said that one of the things that immediately came into her head was the desire to deface the damage Nick had done to her skin.
And that— My eyes crash shut. We can’t allow that to happen.Jesus.Not only would slipping back into those patterns not be good for her, but I know Elliot. And she’d feel like she was failing herself—because I see it now, clarity striking like a flash of lightning. The Elliot we’ve come to know is not the same girl she was with Nick. She’s overcome whatever happened with him, and I don’t want her falling back into that mindset. Not ever again.
I wet my lips, looking around the room, hating that I have to do this. As quietly as possible, I open the drawer of her nightstand and, seeing nothing there, proceed to the drawers I got her clothes out of mere minutes ago. I slide my hand around inside each, looking for anything she could possibly use to harm herself.
After rummaging through her closet and still coming up with nothing, I head for the most obvious location—the bathroom—checking drawers for anything sharp. Scissors, razors, a pair of angled tweezers. I bite my lip, shuddering to think of her using any of them on herself. I close my eyes. There’s only one spot in this bathroom that doesn’t have a camera aimed at it. So, if I were a girl who was anywhere near contemplating cutting myself…
