Page 67 of Kingston
CANNON
“Whose room doyou want to go to, pretty girl?” Archer smiles at Elliot, and she lifts her head. I think she’s gotta be exhausted.
“Mine”—she lets out a fluttery breath—“but I don’t want to be alone.”
He nods. “No problem. One of us can stay with you. Or both of us.” His brow furrows. “All of us, if you want.”
I was already planning on that course of action before she spoke up. There’s no way she’s staying alone. I wouldn’t have allowed it no matter what.
She gives a sleepy nod and puts her head back down on my shoulder as I carry her directly into the bathroom. I pause for a moment, nodding to Archer that he should start the shower, then set her on the counter. I take in a gulping breath as my eyes wander the dirt smudges on her face, the abraded skin on her cheek, the bump on her forehead, and the torn-up state of her clothing. My chest jerks with emotion, my mind racing right back into the house where we found her knocked out on the floor. I run the backs of my fingers down her cheek, closing my eyes.
“I’m okay, Cannon. Really. I’m sorry I scared you,” she whispers, her voice ragged.
Opening my eyes, I shake my head. Not her fault.
Archer steps up next to me. “Water’s warm, Elliot. You wanna get in?”
I suck in a breath, and press my lips together, my gaze sliding from the object of my obsession to the shower stall.
“I, um. I don’t think he wants you in the shower on your own.” Archer looks carefully at her, touching his fingers to her chin and making her look at him. “I can’t say I disagree.”
She draws in a breath, her eyes glassy. “Will you both help me?” With her lip trembling, she stares intently into Archer’s eyes before turning those dark eyes on me.
It’s like a punch to the gut, what I see when I study her, my heart tumbling over and over. The sensation makes it hard to breathe. I would do anything for her.
Swallowing hard, I nod. We help her get her arms out of the sleeves of her shirt then, ever so gently, work it over her head. I toss it to the floor while Archer flicks the clasp at the front of her bra. We help her out of that, too.
And despite the fact she’s been through the wringer tonight, she somehow manages to look gorgeous. Of course, perhaps some of my opinion has to do with her tempting breasts being on display.
Averting my eyes for the moment, I pull my phone out and select a playlist from Spotify. “Middle of the Night”—the cover that was done by Loveless—is cued up and begins to play.
A moment later, she attempts to slip off the counter to stand, but I hold up a hand to stop her, turning toward Archer and lifting a brow before I yank my shirt over my head. He does the same, then we both stare at each other like we’re at some sort of standoff.
Elliot blinks a few times, her gaze pinging from me to Archer and back. Her lips part. “I—” She starts to speak, then her mouth snaps shut, her chest rising and falling quickly. She wets her lips before she tries again, her cheeks infusing with color. “I need both of you. Please.”
I meet Archer’s steely gray gaze and give him a nod, which I hope he reads asWhatever she needs.And I guess he gets it because we drop our pants at the same time and step out of them.
Archer blows out a hard breath, eyes flicking down my body, then away. “Well.Thisis new.”
I shrug and take Elliot’s hand, gripping her upper arm for support. Archer steps in and does the same on the other side. We help her down from the counter, where she promptly sways on her feet.
“Sorry.” Her lip is back to trembling. “I’m a little dizzy.”
Archer clears his throat. “You don’t have to be sorry. This is clearly necessary, and we’re here to help. You okay, Cannon?”
I nod, leaning in to press a kiss to her temple. This doesn’t have to be weird. I want her to feel safe and cared for. And if it means she needs both of us, so be it. I unfasten her jeans while she leans on Archer for support, then pull down the zipper. The sound of it echoes off the walls and sends a jolt of electricity down my spine. I have no idea how this is going to play out. This is not the time to get a hard-on. Hooking my fingers into her waistband, I tug her jeans over her hips and ass and down her legs, squatting to help her out of them one foot at a time.
With that accomplished, I rise. I’m fully aware I’ve got a half-chub situation happening and there’s not a whole lot I can do about it. We’re all naked, and about to be in the shower together. My brain is zinging one way and zanging the other. I’ve got to get a handle on my thoughts so I don’t come off as a complete asshole who is incapable of helping a person in need.
Slowly, we make our way into the shower stall as a unit, Elliot between us. We guide her under the spray of the water, and she moans a little, but from her expression, I think it’s out of sheer pleasure at the prospect of finally being clean after fumbling around in that awful house.
“I’ll shampoo her hair if you want to wash her body. Elliot, try to hold onto one of us. We don’t want you falling. That’s why we’re here.” His eyes flick to mine, and I don’t miss the way they drift down over my body, then back to hers. Archer is, well, he’s just Archer. He watches everything and everyone, and because he does, he’s incredibly in tune with what other people are thinking and feeling, which is funny that he’s also so damn good with computers. I would have thought someone who is such a brainiac with tech stuff wouldn’t also be so interested in people, but he is how he is, and I appreciate him for it. Like right now, I’m certain he realizes I’m flustered, so he’s keeping things very matter-of-fact by flat out telling me what it would be helpful for me to do.
I take her sponge from its hook on the wall and the coconut-vanilla scented shower gel from the built-in shelf. I squirt some of the gel out into my hand, then rub it into the sponge creating lots of sweet-smelling bubbles—bubbles that smell like she does—as I watch Archer gently work the shampoo through her hair. He massages her scalp, and she moans, closing her eyes and grasping my forearms to keep her steady.
Pausing for a moment, I let her lean into my chest as he works on her hair. She rests her hands at my waist and her head tucks into the space under my chin. Those strong hands of Archer’s that I’m used to seeing fly so quickly over a keyboard are like magic on her, soothing and gentle.
I lift my head to look at him, and he gives me a little smirk. I’m sure he’s correctly reading the majority of the thoughts flying through my head. Trying not to be awkward about it, I run the sponge over her neck and shoulders, then down each arm. I accidentally nudge his chest not once, but twice with the sponge. My eyes flick to his in silent apology.
