Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I was on fire. How ironic. He made me burn, after all.
I clung to him, barely able to hold on, my body throbbing against his.
Not a noise in the house except my breathless panting. Outside, I thought I heard a dog barking from far away.
I stared at the red skull face smiling at me. Victorious. Hungry. Wickedly ecstatic.
His hand on my throat trailed to my jaw, his thumb tracing over my lips with a loving caress. My eyelids fluttered shut at his touch.
“Evee,” he said, as softly as his touch.
My hands dropped from his shoulders as my body grew heavy, unable to support myself.
“Oh, sweetheart, you were so good,” he breathed after a moment of just us kneeling on the ground, recovering. “So fucking good.”
I laid my temple on his shoulder. Suddenly, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh or cry. Because I felt relieved. I felt good. Too good. I felt amazing. And it had been Emery who gave me that feeling. It was so surreal, so crazy, I didn’t know how to process it.
I made a barely audible cry, unable to contain it, and he must have heard because he released me, cupping my face, forcing me to look at him again.
“Oh baby, don’t cry. Fuck, I’m sorry.”
I was overwhelmed by everything that had happened in the last couple hours. Hell, the last few days. I didn’t think I had it in me to cry again after the last time and I hated crying now, but I couldn’t stop. Then I started laughing too because of how absurd I felt. How it all felt. So much emotion I couldn’t handle it.
“Fuck, I broke you. Jesus, Evee.” He brought me back to him. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” He squished my face into his chest, and I laughed some more. I calmed down after a minute of him rocking me and kissing my head—or rather attempting to as his mask brushed against me. I patted his arm to let him know I was okay.
“What can I do?”
I licked my lips and swallowed before I croaked out, “Shower.”
Buttoning his pants, he immediately scooped me up and carried me, taking me down to the basement.
I was surprised when he took me into Uncle Pete’s old room instead of my cousin’s. Then I learned why as he brought me into the bathroom.
I’d only been in it a handful of times and had forgotten how much bigger and nicer it was compared to my cousin’s. There was a deep Jacuzzi tub to one side next to the sink. The whole back wall was a large shower, able to fit more than one, even more than two, people.
After setting me down, he started the water as I wrapped my robe around me, feeling suddenly vulnerable.
“I’ll be right, back,” he said, closing the door behind him.
I stared at the door, feeling my heart still pounding, but beginning to slow. I let the robe fall from me and flipped my hair back before getting into the shower, leaving the glass door open.
The water felt incredible, the temperature hot enough to relax my muscles, washing away the tension in my limbs.
I sighed as I leaned against the cool wall, rubbing a hand across me. Emery returned, placing my soap and shampoo in the shower. His gaze fell across my breasts and down to my thighs, and he gripped the door hard.
“I’ll just be in the other room,” he said quietly. He didn’t move, however, as he said it. “If I can even peel my damn eyes off you first.”
I opened my leg a little, arching the small of my back.
“That’s not helping,” he chastised.
I smirked, letting the water run between my breasts, letting him watch me. I chewed at my lip, curious, then said, “Join me.”
He seemed to think it over, his free hand clenching and unclenching.
“Please?” I asked.
He unlatched his other hand from the door. He took off his shoes and set them aside then pulled off his pants. He stood naked before me and was about to step inside when I stopped him.
“The mask too.”
He stood there as if uncertain at first. Then, cautiously, he drew a hand up. He lifted the mask from his face, over his head, then off completely. Dropping it.
I stared at his face, unable to look away. He was so beautiful. Even the scars couldn’t hide that.
He stared at me as if waiting to see some bad reaction. When I didn’t react, he carefully stepped inside and closed the distance between us. He kept his head bowed as if the exposure made him uncomfortable, looking away from me as if he found it suddenly hard to meet my gaze.
His hands clenched and unclenched and I saw his jaw set as if he were in pain but he didn’t turn from me. Instead, he let the stream wash over him, trailing his fingers through his auburn hair. As he raised his one arm, I saw the bandage there.
I gasped, and he glanced at me. “I look like dogshit, I know.”
I laughed a little. This time, it was my turn to be mesmerized as I saw his lips move, saw his expressions fully for the first time. “No, it’s not that,” I said. “I forgot you got hurt.” I raised my hand to the bandage. I hadn’t taken notice of it in the dark but now I saw he had wrapped the wound from the bullet that had grazed him back at Lena’s.
“Ah, that.” He watched my hand on his arm, somehow still surprised I would touch him. “Yeah, it wasn’t that bad. ’Tis but a scratch.”
“Ugh, not a Monty Python quote, seriously?”
He grinned and he might as well have put a knife in my heart. It psychically pained me to see his gorgeous smile, marred by the scars. “Didn’t like that, huh?”
“I think I just shriveled up inside.” I laughed. “If I had known you were this big of a nerd, I don’t know if I could have exposed how much I liked you to everyone.”
His grin became an amused little smirk as he placed an arm on either side of me, his body trapping me against the wall. “You mean love me?” he said. “’Cause you know you do, sweetheart. And you know what?” He leaned in closer. “You knew what that quote was from too.”
“Everyone knows what that’s from.”
“Do they?” He lifted his brows, and I loved seeing it.
“Maybe not.”
His smile widened. Every expression was a shot to the heart.
Unable to stop myself, I lifted my hand toward his face.
He flinched away.
I dropped my hand, frowning. “I’m sorry.”
He looked at me with a serious expression and blew out a breath. “No, Evee, I’m sorry.”
“Did he…” I wanted to ask if it was my father who had done that to him. But I feared bringing it up now, if it were too soon.
Still, he knew who I was talking about. He shook his head. “Me. It was me.”
“You did this…to yourself?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?” I breathed.
It took him a moment to respond. He tilted his head in that way to hear his sister speak, then he shut his eyes and turned away, pained to have to ignore her but doing it all the same.
“After the warehouse, I was forced back to the agency. There had been talk of…selling me. To a…specific kind of clientele who were looking for teens to…keep old men company.”
I closed my eyes in disgust.
“Already fucked in the head, I didn't want to endure that kind of abuse too. I figured if no one wanted to look at me, well…” He shrugged. “The smiling woman had started speaking a lot more then too. She…influenced that decision a lot. Played on my fears of what they would do. So…I took a knife and cut away. They took me to a hospital and the rest is history.”
“Is that when you started wearing a mask?” I asked.
“Not right away. But I found it harder and harder to look at myself. When I started wanting my revenge, I was changing. I felt like…death. I found the mask and made up my mind to hunt Martel down. It felt a part of me after. I felt it was the new me. Like the scared little boy had died and a monster took his place. And to keep the other monsters away—monsters like…”
“My father,” I said sadly.
“They had to see me for what I was.” His eyes met mine. “Does that make sense?”
“For you...yes, it does.”
He looked at my hand. “I never liked being touched at all after the warehouse. But…that was before you.” His face drew closer to mine. “If you really want to, go ahead. I’ll deal if it means feeling you in every way I can.”
I hesitated before lifting my hand again. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah. You deserve to.”
I wasn’t sure about that. Still, I lifted my hand. Gently, I let my fingers brush across his face, down one long scar. He shut his eyes and breathed in. I could see his body tensing, but he didn’t move, didn’t flinch away.
My fingers traced another scar down to his mouth, still unable to believe he had done it, that he had been so scared of enduring more trauma that he’d rather live with a mangled face than be abused more.
But who could blame him.
I lifted my other hand, cupping his face. His eyes, half-lidded, watched me as he began to relax.
Unwilling to stop myself, I pulled his face down to mine. His gaze lit up as my lips stopped an inch from his.
“I want to kiss you,” I whispered, keeping him close. “Is that okay?”
“You think I’d say no?”
His lips parted in anticipation. I drew in a breath, then closed the distance between us.
I kissed the fullness of his bottom lip, then the upper where one scar connected to the next scar. His breathing changed. When I flicked out my tongue a little, cautiously coaxing him to respond, he inhaled sharply and kissed me back, hungry and desperate now, leaning in to press his hard body against mine. He moved against me and I felt his cock harden between us, pressing against my stomach, ready for another round. His hand grabbed a fist of my hair as he tilted my head back and kissed me deeper, biting my bottom lip, making me gasp.
He trailed down my neck, biting there too, then came my breasts, as he took one nipple into his mouth.
A moan crawled up my throat. Fuck, I loved that mouth.
His tongue lingered there, then trailed up my neck, lapping up water, making me shudder. I saw him stroking his cock. Unthinking, I pressed my hips to his, grinding against him. I was surprised when he responded by grabbing my hips and turning me around so my back was to his chest. He spread my legs, then slid two fingers inside me. I felt my muscles clench around him as he stroked, making me moan again. His other hand encircled my throat, squeezing a little this time, but I didn’t mind. I gripped his wrist as he ground against me from behind.
“You want to know a little secret?”
I bit my lip, my mind focused on his painfully slow strokes. But still, I asked, “What?”
“I was so pissed off the whole time I was…hunting you.” He shrugged in a sort of apology. “And when I tied you up, I didn’t think I had room for any other emotion. And yet—” He chuckled. “Ah, Evee, you worked me up even then.”
I inhaled as he moved his fingers back and forth in a way that set my body on fire all over again. “What do you mean?”
“I got hard a few times. I thought I blocked you out but you still had that hold on me. I thought I’d lose it when you ground up against me that time in the kitchen, remember that?”
I wasn’t likely to forget. My body throbbed as I moved my hips.
“You were a little brat for that one.” He smiled as I flushed, his fingers sliding out to swirl around my clit before dipping back in. I shuddered as I felt myself on the verge of climaxing again, as his other hand slipped from my throat to take hold of my jaw.
“Maybe that was just the circumstance, but…seeing your clothes did it too. I think it was your scent on them. Then when you were tied up in the back seat…imagining what I could do.” His smile dropped, his eyes darkening. “That made me feel the worst. Got me a little more pissed off. More at myself. But I realized I just wanted you too much, it was too late for me even then.” His fingers moved faster as I squirmed. “I don’t think I was ever going to stop wanting you, Evee.”
I clamped my mouth shut as the cry ripped up my throat, the climax hitting hard as his fingers kept moving. He kissed me then, swallowing my scream.
My body convulsed against his, jerking, writhing. Purposefully, I pressed my body to his and ground my ass against him. He groaned, pressing me to the shower wall. He slid into me, and I cried out as the heat engulfed me with his thrusts, so possessive it took my breath away.
He came in me, his body tensing up like before, throbbing, a moan slipping through his teeth. I knew we were playing a dangerous game, letting this happen again in a short period. I didn’t think of the future because right now it didn’t matter to me. There was just him.
When we could calm down enough and stop touching, we washed ourselves. I told him not to put his clothes back on yet and I didn’t put on my robe; I threw them in the washer that was in the cellar instead. He was too big for my clothes, but he said he still had the clothes from St. Agnes upstairs in the truck.
As he went to grab them, I put on a pair of house shorts and a shirt. When he came back down wearing the suit from St. Agnes, I had to shove away the memory of what he did to get free of that place. I didn’t want to know the details, didn’t want to see that ugly side of Emery anymore. It was selfish and crazy. I knew I would have to acknowledge it again. But I told myself “later”. Right now, I just wanted to have this moment with the Emery I loved. The Emery who didn’t want to be a monster.