Page 64 of Love Without Control

“How long were you in there?” I asked.

“Hours. I think we were still in Mexico when we left.”

“And they drove you to New Orleans? Jesus, E. That has to be a ten or eleven hour trip, minimum.” I was trying to control the timbre of my voice, but my rage was about to crest and pour over me like an erupting volcano.

“I felt the truck stop a few times, but they never let us out to use the bathroom or anything. It was way over a hundred degrees back there, and one of the Jennifers kept puking, so you can imagine how it smelled.” Her fingers tightened on my bare chest, the nails cutting little half-moons into my flesh.

Now I understood why she liked the windows down in the car and why she needed to have her door slightly ajar. I buried my nose in her hair, smelling her fruity shampoo mixed with the scents of her honey shower gel and a slight whiff of nightmare sweat.

When I felt her tears drip down my chest, I was simultaneously pained and relieved. Pained because she was hurting but relieved that she was letting her emotions out instead of bottling them up. This shit couldn’t be healthy to keep inside.

“I-I finally couldn’t hold it a-anymore,” she said, stuttering and hiccuping her way through the sentence. “I had to pee so bad.”

Motherfucking hell.I could read between the lines as to what came next. “It’s okay, baby. Everyone has to pee. It’s just biology, and you did what you had to do.”

“I felt s-so dirty. And humiliated,” she sobbed, her fingernails cutting deeper into my skin.

“That’s why you take several showers a day,” I stated before I could think better of it, and she nodded. “Would you like to take a shower now? Would that make you feel better?”

She’d barely croaked out a yes before I was standing, cradling her gently in my arms, and striding inside and straight to her bathroom. There was a free-standing shower along one wall, and I set her on her feet beside it before kissing the tip of her nose. I’d given up trying to figure out why I always felt the need to do that.

Taking a much-needed step back, I slid open the shower door and turned on the water to warm. “Get undressed,” I instructed, holding my hand beneath the spray and adjusting the temperature until it was just right.

“You’re… staying in here?” she asked.

I walked to the side wall of the shower and pressed my back against it, consciously looking away from her. “I’ll be right here in case you need me.” She didn’t say anything, so I added, “I’ve been meaning to count the gulls on this seascape.”

My lips curved up when I heard a little laugh escape her, and then they turned down when the sound of rustling clothes reached my ears.

Naked Eden, naked Eden, naked Eden,chanted through my brain before I knocked the words away with a chant that was more appropriate.Hurt Eden, vulnerable Eden, scared Eden.

That did the trick, and as I heard her click the shower door shut, my eyes flicked across the framed painting on the wall across from me. I recognized the burnt orange lighthouse that sat on a reef off Vaca Key, the iron pilings skeletal against the sunset behind it. Or maybe it was a sunrise; I wasn’t sure. But the yellow orb was barely kissing the water, turning it into a blanket of muted colors.

I began counting the seagulls.One. Two. Three.I’d barely gotten to eight when I heard a thunk and then a soft, “Ow!” My hesitation lasted only two beats before I muttered, “Fuck it,” and swung my body around to sling open the glass door. “E, are you okay?”

Her eyes widened when I stepped into the shower, still wearing my black boxer briefs, and one of her arms crossed over her chest. “I-I dropped this on my foot.” She held up a small yellow bottle of face wash. “I was trying to get the lid off, and the bottle slipped.”

My heart rate lowered to something approaching normal. “Sorry, you scared the hell out of me. Is your foot okay?”Don’t look down. Do. Not. Look. Down.

She nodded, her blue eyes locked on mine, which assisted in my efforts to not let my gaze drop. “It’s fine, but do you think you could—” Eden held out the bottle toward me. Taking it from her, I grasped it in one hand and used the other to twist off the lid. “Showoff,” she muttered, giving me a teasing half-smile.

As if she was metal and I was a magnet, I took a step closer to her and pulled the door closed behind me, cocooning us in the steamy enclosure. “May I?” I asked, squirting a dollop of the amber gel onto my fingers.

Her voice was quiet but clear, floating softly between us. “Yes.”

Something roared inside me, like a lion proclaiming his dominion over the animal kingdom. Maybe it made me a prick, but I loved that she needed me, trusted me, even with something as simple as taking care of her in this small way.

My eyes searched her bare face. The bruises had long since healed, but when she was fragile like this, I could practically see them again. Or the ghost of them. Like a phantom reminder of what she’d endured, and it somehow made her even more fucking beautiful.

Reaching for her face with both hands, I massaged the cleanser in tiny circles over her skin, methodically, slowly, starting with her forehead, being cautious near the cute nose piercing, and working my way down to her neck.

With the soft, content smile on her face, I was finding it easier not to look down. I focused instead on the blue tinge of her closed eyelids, tracing each tiny vein with my eyes.

Once I’d lathered her entire face and neck, I carefully rinsed away the suds and reached a hand to the back of her neck, gently tilting her head back to wet her hair.

While I worked the fruity shampoo through her strands, Eden drifted her fingers over the marks she’d left on my chest, a frown wrinkling her brow. “Did I do that?”

“Now you know why I call you Wildcat.”

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