15. Elliot
ELLIOT
“What are you doing?” Abigail groans, her voice rough with sleep as I slide into her bed behind her.
“Missed you,” I confess quietly.
Her breath catches.
“My bed was cold and empty last night. I didn’t like it.”
Saying these things to a girl feels alien, but they’re true.
I did miss her last night.
I’d offered for her to stay, but she insisted that she had revision to do, something I also offered to do with her, but she wouldn’t have it. Raine walked her back to the dorms not long after the sun went down, and she’s stayed locked in here ever since.
“Elliot,” she chastises, finding the words hard to believe.
I get it. I really fucking do.
Wrapping my arm around her stomach, I pull her back tighter against me before peppering kisses across her shoulder and working up to her neck.
She shudders against me, a little whimper spilling from her tempting lips.
“Admit it, you missed me too, didn’t you, Red?”
“Elliot,” she warns again.
“You don’t have to forgive me, Abi. Hell, you don’t even have to like me, but you’ve got to admit that there’s something here. You want me, I know you do.”
Shifting my hand higher, I cup her breast, brushing my thumb over her peaked nipple.
“Elliot.” This time my name is nothing more than a moan.
“Fucking love the way that sounds, Red.”
She’s silent for a few moments as I continue kissing and nipping the soft, sweet skin beneath her ear.
“We can’t do this.”
Those four words float around in the air between us.
Taunting me. Fucking haunting me.
She’s right. I know she is.
But it’s not good enough.
We have to do this.
I have to do this.
I can’t fucking focus without her.
Unless we’re like this, our bodies pinned together, her wrapped in my arms, nothing feels right anymore.
“I can’t think about anything else,” I admit.
Like this, in the dark, just the two of us, it’s easy to say all the things I keep locked up inside.
“You’re everything, Red. The only thing I want. The only thing I care about.”
“But—”
“Shh. Not now,” I beg.
I just want this moment together where we can forget reality and just be us.
She sighs and I tighten my grip on her expecting her to try and escape. But she never does.
“Tell me something,” she finally says.
“Uh…”
“Something no one else knows. Something you keep hidden from everyone else. Trust me with something.”
My heart is racing long before she’s finished talking.
I might keep many secrets from those around me, but there is only one that Abigail will understand.
But the thought of saying the words. Confessing to the dark places I’ve visited more often than I’d like to admit makes me feel physically sick.
I’ve hidden it from everyone.
But my time is up.
If I want to keep her, if we stand any fucking chance of figuring out a way to make this work together, then I need to allow her to see my worst, just like I have her.
But how do I tell her?
The right words just don’t exist.
“Elliot?” she whispers, letting me know that I’ve been silent for too long.
“Red,” I sigh, pressing my forehead to her shoulder. “You already know that my life isn’t what it looks like from the outside.
“I’m privileged, sure. But that has come at a cost.”
“Your father?” she whispers.
“Yeah. I’ve done things. I-I—” The lump in my throat stops me from forcing another word out.
I try and swallow it down, but it only grows larger and larger.
I shake my head, trying to summon up the courage for what I need to do.
With one more kiss on her shoulder, I push away from her and climb from the bed.
“Where are you going?” she asks, panicked as she sits up.
With the lights off and only the silvery glow of the moonlight illuminating the room through the cracks in the curtains, I can only make out her profile, but it’s enough to know that she’s tense.
She thinks I’m going to refuse her request and run.
It’s just another reason to do the opposite.
She doesn’t think I’ll open up. She doesn’t think I trust her enough.
But my trust in her has never been the problem.
It’s my own issues, my own shame, that stops me from revealing the truth to those closest to me.
“Red,” I whisper as I tuck my thumbs into my boxers and shove them down. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Her breath catches as my underwear drops to my ankles. She might not be able to make out the details, but she can see enough.
“I asked for a secret, Elliot. Not for?—”
“Give me your hand,” I demand, holding mine out for her.
“This isn’t?—”
“Trust me,” I urge, my heart beating even faster with fear that she won’t.
“I… uh…”
I breathe a sigh of relief when her warm fingers brush mine as she shifts so she’s fully sitting up in bed.
Lifting my foot from the floor, I place it on the edge of the mattress and guide her hand towards the hidden scarred skin.
The second her soft fingertips touch me, I stop breathing.
The darkness I’m all too familiar with threatens to engulf me. The memory of creating the newest scar only a few days ago fills my mind as self-hatred and shame flood through my veins.
“Elliot, what is this?”
“You know,” I whisper, my voice so quiet I’m not sure she even hears me. “You know, Red.”
I know the moment she understands, the gentle stroke of her fingertips over my marred skin pauses.“No,” she breathes. “No, Elliot. You can’t?—”
“I’ve never judged you, Abi. Never. Not once. I couldn’t… I can’t because I know.” Silence fills the room, the weight of my confession sitting heavy on both of our shoulders. “I know the pain. The darkness. The feeling of being utterly useless and not knowing how to make it?—”
“Stop,” she finishes for me.
Reaching for the bedside lamp, I close my eyes as I flick it on, flooding the room with light and allowing her to see what no one else ever has.
“Oh my God, Elliot,” she whispers.
I hear her scoot closer before her warm breath dances over my skin.
But I don’t look. I can’t.
Her fingers move, gently tracing over every scar, every inch of ugly marred skin.
Once she’s finished on one thigh, she moves to the other, finding exactly the same thing.
“How long?”
I bite down on my cheeks, hating every single second of this.
“Started when I was eight. Dad… He… I… I fucked up and…”
Suddenly, she’s moving and before I know what’s happening, her arms are around my shoulders and her face is tucked into my neck.
It takes a moment to register anything, but the second I do it’s the wetness against my skin that steals my attention, a second later comes a sob.
“Oh shit, Red. No. Don’t cry. Please, I’m not worthy of your tears.”
“No,” she argues, holding me tighter as I attempt to push her back so I can look at her. “No, that’s not fair. You were just a child.”
“So were you,” I counter.
She shakes her head but finally, she pulls her face from the crook of my neck.
“Red,” I breathe, staring into her watery eyes.Reaching out, I wipe the tears from her cheeks.“Don’t cry for me, baby.”
Her eyes search mine. A million and one questions are floating around within them, but none pass her lips. Instead, she leans forward and brushes those lips against mine instead.
“Abi,” I breathe.
“I’ve found a better way to help me forget,” she murmurs.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
She wraps her hand around the nape of my neck and leans back.We both crash onto the bed. I just manage to catch myself before I crush her tiny frame.Her tongue sneaks out and the second it collides with mine, I forget about everything but her.
Slipping my hand inside her tank, she wraps her legs around my waist, holding me close as we lose ourselves in each other.
She’s right. There is something so much better than a sharp blade.
Her.
Sure the girls that have come before were a good distraction when I needed it. But they were nothing compared to her.
Needing more, I pull my lips from hers and drag her top from her body, exposing her chest.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” I groan before dropping my lips to her neck and working my way down until I can suck her nipple into my mouth.
“Elliot,” she cries when I suck hard, nipping hard enough to send a little pain shooting through her.
“Can’t get enough of you, Red,” I confess.
I move lower before flattening my tongue on the scar that cuts across her stomach.
“No, don’t,” she half begs half moans, her fingers sinking into my hair in an attempt to push me away. “It’s ugly.”
“Abigail,” I chastise. “There isn’t an inch of you that comes anywhere close to that. Your scars are beautiful. They show your strength. I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
“No.” She thrashes her head from side to side, refusing to believe me.
“Yes. I want you like I’ve never wanted anyone before.”
“I’m broken.”
A bitter laugh spills from my lips.“So am I, Red. So am I.”
I’ve barely finished talking before I’ve tucked my fingers beneath the waistband of her sleep shorts and knickers, dragging them down her legs.
The second they’re free of her feet, I throw them behind me and press her thighs wide.
I let my eyes linger on her glistening pussy before taking my time in taking the rest of her in.
Finally, my gaze locks on hers. Emotions war in her green eyes. Desire, fear, excitement and anticipation.
“Tell me you don’t want this—want me—and I’ll get dressed and walk out right now.” I’m not sure it’s true, but I offer nonetheless.
“I-I want you,” she whispers.
“Fuuuck,” I groan, my dick jerking between us.
The temptation to sink into her right here and now is almost too much to ignore. But she deserves more than that. She deserves the world, not just a release from all our pain and darkness. Okay, well, not just that.
“I want to hear you scream my name, Red,” I tell her before dropping to my front and licking her arse to clit.
She squeals, her hips rolling as her fingers sink into my hair, holding me in place.
Her taste floods my mouth, spurring me on, and I eat her like a man possessed before I slide two fingers inside her, upping the ante.
“Elliot,” she moans, grinding herself against my mouth.
“Come for me, Red,” I demand, curling my fingers against her G-spot. “Show me how tightly you’ll squeeze my dick when I push inside you.”
“Oh my God,” she cries as she races towards the end.
“My name, Abigail. Let everyone know who’s doing this to you.”
“God, Elliot. Ah… Ah, shit,” she screams as she crashes. Her body sucks my fingers deeper as I suck on her clit, letting her ride out every second of pleasure.
Once I’m happy she’s finished, I sit up and take myself in my hand.
I’m already riding on a knife’s edge, and embarrassingly it only takes a handful of strokes before I groan out her name and come over her chest and stomach.
Our chests heave as we come down from our highs, the reality of what we just did, of what I confessed floating around us.
Reaching out, I push my finger into a blob of my cum before writing my name across her stomach, right over her scar.
“You’re mine, Red. Mine,” I tell her, sounding much more confident than I feel about what the future holds for us.