Page 57 of Their Starlight

“It’s for your safety, Gray.”

“Uh huh. If I haven’t heard from Elle by this evening, I’m calling her. And if I can’t get hold of her, I’m hunting you down Lance Preston.”

“I believe you,” I say with a smirk.

Hayden comes out twenty minutes later, changed into a clean pair of sweats and no shirt. Yawning and stretching, he comes to stand right in front of me. I think he’s about to kiss me or something equally intimate, but he notices Brent and just leans over to get another mug out the cupboard and keeps moving. Ifeel guilty that Brent doesn’t know about us, guilty about keeping things from Brent, and guilty about keeping Hayden a secret. Now is not the time to change that. We’ve already got a big conversation ahead of us but it’s Elle who has to take it all in and the three of us need to be a united front.

31

ELLE

Istand in the shower, allowing the hot water pound onto my overly sensitive skin. If I was in any better mental or physical condition, I probably would admire the sleek modernity of the black marble tile and gold fixtures. But right now, I can barely lift my head from the wall. I ache everywhere, every time I breathe, my ribs protest and my head is thumping. I must have been dormant for twenty minutes before I realise my legs are shaking from trying to keep me upright. I force myself to stand straight and scope the bodywash and shampoo on a shelf above my head.

I have to give myself a little pep talk to get my arms to move that high, but as soon as they do, I realised a pep talk is not going to cut it. My shoulders feel like they are being held in a vice and my side feels like it has a knife protruding from it. A small whimper escapes me and I quickly brace myself back against the tile. There is a knock on the door and Lance’s voice calls out to me.

“Elle?”

I choose not to answer, breathing deeply through the pain instead, and screwing my eyes shut, hoping to be anywhere else.

“Elle? Are you okay in there?”

The fear of my voice betraying my distress prevents me from telling him no. No, I am not okay. But that’s not what I would say if I could talk, of course. I would say I was fine. I’d put on a chipper voice and pretend that I was almost over the horrific attack I’d endured. That would be easier than letting Lance know I am struggling. But right now, I don’t have the strength to pretend. So I just keep my eyes closed and trap the sob trying to escape in my throat.

The door swings open with such force that I jump, sending shooting pains through my entire body. I gasp and try my best to cover myself with my arms. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I heard you cry and then you didn’t answer!” He stares at me wide eyed and incredulous. “Jesus, Elle, I thought you’d fallen or something. Are you okay?” His words say concern, but his tone was angry.

“I didn’t cry.” Not a lie but the hitch in my voice probably says it is. “I tried to reach the shampoo and it hurt too much.”

He glances behind me to the small corner shelf where the bottles stand to attention, then back to me. On a sigh, he reaches behind his head and pulls his white t-shirt off. My mouth gapes open.What the fuck?In a quick moment, his sweats are in a heap with his t-shirt and he stands just outside the shower in nothing but black boxers.

“What are you doing?” My mouth is dry as I hug myself tighter.

“Helping you,” is his direct answer.

Keeping his underwear on, he steps into the shower until we are toe to toe, and he reaches over my shoulder to grab the shampoo. He swirls his finger in the air, telling me to turn around and when I open my mouth to protest, he shoots me a look that dares me to argue. I spin on my heel to face the spray and he is a warmth at my back. I hear the click of the bottle opening and the wet sound of shampoo being squirted onto his palm. The moment his fingers tangle into my hair and start lathering, my head falls back against his shoulder, and I moan. His ministrations feel so good against my thundering headache and leaning back against him makes me feel steady on my feet.

Lance makes quick work of my hair and gently grabs my shoulders to spin me. I arch my neck to face the ceiling and he rinses my hair gently but efficiently. Neither of us speak or acknowledge his thick erection digging into my stomach beneath his boxers. Once my hair is clean, he kneels at my feet and uses the eucalyptus body wash to clean my feet and up my legs to my hips and my stomach. It is tender and sweet to see him caring for me like this and I am thankful that my tears are camouflaged by the water from the shower.

He rises from his kneeling position and steps out of the shower quickly, returning with a new disposable razor. Without asking, he slips back to his knees and shaves my legs for me. It is so intimate that my heart pounds so heavy against my chest Ithink it would break free. He finishes both my legs and steals a glance at my pussy as it’s right in front of him. He looks back up at me with one eyebrow raised.

“Don’t even think about it,” I warn, glaring at him with the razor in his hand. He smirks as he stands, and I can’t help my own lips curling. He continues washing me, being ever so careful of the black bruise over my ribcage. I watch his jaw tick as he takes in the discolouration. His hands glide over my breasts with ease, the suds lubricating his way. I take a sharp breath as my nipples pucker under his touch and I watch his Adam’s apple bob on a swallow. I don’t shy away from his hands on me, his touch so different from the roughness of my attacker. He’s methodical yet caring and I feel safe with Lance, I always did.

He washes my collar, shoulders, arms, and neck. When it comes to my back, he doesn’t spin me again, he wraps his arms around me to reach. Rubbing my back in rhythmic gentle strokes, he lowers his face to my neck and plants a soft, hot kiss to my shoulder. His touch is both too much and not enough. My eyes are sore from all the crying I’d done last night, but tears still run free. I want to reach out and touch him. I want so badly to feel his body hard against mine, to lose myself in the comfort he offers. But to touch would be to remember, and if I remember how Lance had made me feel, loved, and safe, I would be open to the heartache only he and two others can inflict. I can’t do that to myself again.

“Lance,” I whisper his name, almost in prayer. Begging for him. For him to love me? Or for him to leave me be? I can’t say. Before I can figure it out, he’s finished rinsing me off and he stops the shower.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you dried off.”

He leads me out of the shower and wraps a large, white, fluffy towel around me while he drips over the floor tiles. It is instinctual, not thought through at all, but I take the corner of my towel, still around my shoulder, and wipe at the water trailing from his collarbone down over his chest. His muscles flinch at my touch and his breathing speeds up. I reach up to pat down his shoulders, exposing myself to him again but that is of little consequence now. When my hand reaches his shoulder, I wince as my own twangs with pain.

Lance reaches forward and cups my face. “I promise, sweetheart. I will find out who did this, I will hunt them down and I will kill them.” He doesn’t say it in an offhandoh, I’m going to kill himkind of way. He says it in a completely serious, completely calm, yet completely deadly way and I know he means exactly what he says.

“I don’t know why you care so much.” I drop my gaze to the floor. “I’m just one of many notches on your bedpost, right? Just the slut you lived with for three years and had no need for once you got your dick wet?”

His hands tighten around my jaw, momentarily baring his teeth—a mixture of hurt and anger flashing in his eyes. “It is my biggest regret that you believed that so readily.”

What?Before I can vocalise my confusion, he kisses me with everything he has, sliding his tongue over mine and holding me to him. I break. I can’t stop myself from kissing him back, enjoying his taste, his smell and the feel of his soft lips against my own. But the pain, everything from the last three years, each crack in my heart, all the tears I’ve cried over this man all comes flooding to the surface. My tears spill anew as I cry once more. He kisses me deeper, sliding his fingers into my wet hair and moaning at the sound of my sorrow. My walls are crumbling. I’ve had a taste and almost immediately I know that I can’t go back to a life without Lance in it.

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