Page 21 of His Innocent Muse

A familiar scent teases my nose, and my heart nose-dives over a cliff straight into my stomach. Is that…it is. She’s using my soap. An absolute violation. So many choices, and that’s where she lands. Why? I would say she picked it to cause me more discomfort, only it feels more like flattery, and that’s even worse. Flattery is as far as I’ll let that thought line go, though, because anything past that dips into an area we cannot go. I close my eyes, her voice washing over me despite my turmoil.

My cock refuses to calm down. She’s covered in my soap, naked in my bathroom, making art with her body, and I have no hope. I desperately need to get off, but I refuse. It’s not possible without thinking about her. No. I’ve lived through worse than not getting my rocks off for a few days. That’s far less painful than getting close to someone, then having your heart ripped out and being completely helpless to do a damn thing about it.

Past memories battle to break free and her voice gets louder, bringing me back to the present. I open my eyes, lost in the tune again. Yes, her debut at Vie De Mort will be a fantastic show.

It isn’t until she dances between the open door and the mirror, a freedom and joy in her movement that stops my heart completely, that I realize she turned off the shower at all.

There’s no end to the reactions in my body. Fear at being caught spying, desire at the delicate curves of her body, concern that she’ll slip on the damp floor. But the loudest, the one that wins, the one that forces my palm to the door and my feet into motion, is rage.

She freezes, a note dying on her tongue, eyes wide as she faces me head on.

“I…thought you had left.”

“What are those?” It’s an angry, pained whisper and nothing more. I know damn well what they are, but I need time to process.

Her mouth falls open, and my finger points to the ceiling on its own. I can’t manage the words, but something in her eyes tells me she remembers not to lie. The awareness of my wishes already from practically nothing makes me want to do a litany of things, claim her in the ways I swore I never would again.

She clacks her jaw shut, slowly covering her stunning—bruised—breasts with one arm, and her mottled stomach with the other.

“You…” she begins slowly, her breath catching as I touch the inside of one wrist. Her arm falls away, and I repeat the gesture on the other, matched by yet more obedience.

I meet and hold her gaze, arching a brow.

“…aren’t the first guy Chuck, um, offered me to. They usually liked getting rough. I…got really good with makeup. I wasn’t thinking and washed it all off. I can, I can put more on.”

I can’t blink. There is so much rage, so much anguish boiling through me.

“How long?”

She moves to cover herself again, but thinks better of it, clenching her fists instead.

“Good girl,” I murmur, the praise falling from my lips before I can stop it, that part of me storming back to life like it hasn’t been locked away for years.

Her reaction is too much, too perfect. She takes a stuttered breath, blinks rapidly, a shine forming as she tilts her chin up.

Every cell in my body is alive with the need to touch her. But instead, I snap my fingers. The sound ricochets off the walls, intrusive in the moment. Her head levels in less than a heartbeat, eyes on mine.

“I asked you a question, Lucy.”

“A…a while.” She takes a step back from me.

I take a slow breath. “Precisely how long?”

“Four years.”

Four—My eyes widen, heart crushing. Fifteen. They were hurting her since she was only fifteen. Maybe I’ll dig up Chuck’s carcass and take my anger out on his face.

“I’m sorry,” she hiccups.

“What on Earth for?” I eat up the space she created, only for her to retreat again, bumping her hip against the sink. Residual heat from the shower fills the top half of the room, sticky and damp, clinging to her skin.

“For, you know,” she gestures haphazardly to her body, “not being as advertised.”

“Advertised?”

“A virgin.”

That hits me so hard I reel. I can’t even respond for a moment, but what eventually comes out is far harsher than I intend.

---