The Sinister Silhouette

A shudder runs through her, then she answers with, “Shower.”

When she makes a move to pull away from me, I pick her up. I know she’s capable of walking, but not only do I want to make it easier on her, I need to feel her in my arms. Rationally, I know she’s okay, but it makes me feel better.

As if she needs the closeness as well, she doesn’t make a peep as I walk to the bathroom, her arms settling around my neck and her head resting on my shoulder. I set her on her feet by the sink and turn to the shower. I make sure the water is warm before turning back to Jules to find her eyes steady on me.

I sift my fingers through her hair and kiss her lips softly.

“I’ll be right outside if you need me,” I murmur against her lips.

She grabs my wrists. “Don’t leave.”

I search her eyes and see a worried, pain-ridden, and broken woman in front of me. It breaks my heart seeing her look so dejected. Anger follows the sadness because of the reason behind the look. Now’s not the time for that though. Jules needs me, and I’ll be damned if I let her down.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she answers through a raw throat.

I nod, and relief fills her face. Stepping back, I grip the back of my shirt and tug it over my head. I give her a moment when her eyes move to my chest, sliding over the sleek muscles covered in ink and the two nipple rings. When they lift back to mine, I see appreciation, and fuck if that doesn’t make me feel good.

I step closer to her when her hands move to the bottom of her shirt. “Let me,” I say softly.

Her hands drop to her sides. I keep my eyes on her as I slowly inch the shirt up. This was her idea, but I want to make sure she’s still with me every step of the way. It’s just a shower, a means to let her know she’s not alone, to help her cope with what happened today, but it’s so much more. It’s trust, and I feel honored she’s giving it to me.

She lifts her arms when the shirt reaches just below her tits. I stretch the neck of the shirt to make sure it doesn’t graze any of her wounds. Her hair falls around her shoulders once the material is over her head. I reach for the snap on the back of her bra and her chilled hands land on my biceps. I ignore the electrical current of pleasure at having her hands on me. I pull the straps off her arms and drop her bra on top of her discarded shirt. Her gorgeous tits with their pebbled little peach-colored nipples are bared to me, but I keep my expression as neutral as I can and will my body to stand down. This isn’t about how incredibly sexy I find her or how much I ache to have her. It’s about giving her the comfort she needs right now.

When I notice the dark marks around her wrists from Theo’s hold on her, I push back the anger wanting to resurface. Instead, I lift one wrist and bring it to my lips, kissing the tender flesh before lifting the next and doing the same.

I drop to my knees in front of her and grip the edges of her leggings to pull them down when I see more marks on her hip bones.

“Fuck,” I hiss, and close my eyes.

Fingers run through my hair and my head is lifted. “Luca…,” she whispers sadly.

I open my eyes, and I know they glow with fury. “I should have fucking killed him,” I growl savagely.

She doesn’t flinch at my harsh tone. She doesn’t say anything either. She just continues to look down at me with her sad amber eyes, her fingers gently kneading my scalp.

I drop my forehead to her lower stomach and inhale several deep breaths, fighting the storm raging in my head.

Once I have my emotions under control, I pull my head away and gently kiss those bruises as well. Spotting a scar across her lower stomach, curious about where it came from, I press my lips there too. Her breathing stutters at the contact, but I pretend I don’t notice as I slowly work the material of her leggings and panties down her legs, making sure to keep my eyes off the springy curls hiding her pussy. I grit my teeth when I find more bruises on the inside of her thighs. I don’t kiss those, even though I desperately want to.

I get to my feet once she’s fully naked and take a step back. It’s fucking torture to do so, but I keep my eyes pinned on her face. Her cheeks are currently a bright pink, and I can tell she’s forcing her arms to stay at her sides and not hide herself from me. I want to tell her she has nothing to be embarrassed about, that her body is strikingly stunning, but I worry it’ll make it worse to point out her tenseness.

“Get in the shower, baby. I’m right behind you.”

She nods, and I’m grateful she complies so easily, because I need a minute to myself.

After she’s safely behind the foggy glass door of the shower, I put my hands on my hips and glare down at the bulge in my jeans. The stupid fucker picks the worst time to stand at attention. I close my eyes and try to think of shit that’ll deflate my dick. I bring up a mental picture of Mom in her bathing suit, then think about the time Ella puked all over my chest when she got drunk for the first time. I shudder as I even remember the time I walked in on my parents fucking on the washing machine when all of us kids were supposed to be spending the night at a friend’s house.

My dick goes down, but not enough, because I can still see Jules in the background of any image I conjure up. She’s in my every fucking thought, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to make that go away.

Releasing a sigh, I remove my jeans and pray like fuck I don’t scare Jules when I climb in the shower with a hard-on. I slide the glass door back just wide enough for m

e to step inside and close it behind me. Her eyes are wide as she takes in my naked body and damned if my dick isn’t back to full mass again in seconds. When her eyes land on my hard cock and the piercing at the end, her eyebrows rise, and her mouth forms an O before she squeaks out an “Oh!”

“Baby,” I call. “Eyes up here.”

Her gaze lingers for a moment, but when my cock jumps of its own accord from having her eyes on it, that same gaze flies to my face. The pink in her cheeks has darkened, giving her a sweet, innocent look that I can’t help but love.