Chapter 53
CHAPTER
FIFTY-THREE
WRATH
Laying Elodie down in my bed, I don’t bother putting her clothes back on her; she’s in an oversized shirt, and I can’t imagine she needs much else.
But she seems extremely upset, to the point where she’s just staring off into space without saying a single word.
I open my mouth to say something, to ask her if she’s okay, but I know she’s not.
“I should take a shower. I’m dirty from work.”
Clearing my throat, I look at her, waiting for her gaze to find mine. Eventually, it does—probably because I didn’t respond to her or make a move to take her to the bathroom or get out of her way.
“Coast,” she whispers. She sounds defeated.
“Don’t,” I grind out.
She shakes her head from side to side, and that’s when I watch her pinch her eyes closed, when I see the first tear fall. I’m going to beat the fucking shit out of him, but not until I get Elodie settled and calmed down.
“Let’s take a shower together. You’ll feel better.”
She doesn’t make a motion to move from where she is. “I won’t feel better,” she whispers.
“Yes, you will.”
Without allowing her to protest, I gather her in my arms again, pick her up, and carry her straight to the bathroom.
Closing the door behind me, I lock it as an extra barrier even though I know nobody is going to try to enter my private space.
Without even setting her down, I turn the water on hot and wait for it to warm up.
“Coast,” she murmurs, “you can put me down.”
I don’t want to put her down, not now, not fucking ever. Seeing the absolute pain that sliced through Elodie when Alex’s words cut her did something to me. Altered me. It made me realize even more just how much she means to me.
I never want to see her hurt, not ever again.
When the bathroom becomes steamy, I know the shower is ready, which means I’m going to be forced to set her down on her feet so I can strip her shirt off her. Elodie’s hair is still up in a messy bun, but as I set her down on her feet, I watch as she takes the tie out of the knot on her head.
I open my mouth to ask her what she’s doing, but she beats me to it, answering my question before I can even ask.
“Usually, I wouldn’t wash my hair without all of my supplies, but it’s sweaty and gross from work, and I need to get it clean. I won’t be able to sleep otherwise.”
My lips curve up into a grin. “I can either get some shit from one of the clubwhores, or you can use mine. Though, to warn you, I don’t own conditioner.”
Elodie scrunches her nose, which is cute as fucking shit, then flicks her gaze to the closed door before shifting it back to meet mine. “I’ll condition at home tomorrow.”
Well, there’s that. She doesn’t want to use the clubwhores’ conditioner. She turns around and walks into the shower just as I begin to strip out of my clothes. There is no way in fuck I’m missing an opportunity to fuck her in the shower, even if she’s upset about what Alex said.
I’m still going to make sure she gets there… again.
Any chance I get, I’m going to ensure she comes.
Stepping into the steamy shower behind her, I slide my hands around her waist, tilting my head to the side before I press my lips to the space where her neck and shoulder meet. She hums but doesn’t say anything else, then she turns around in my arms, and against my better judgment, I let her.
The warm water runs down over her hair as she looks up at me. I start to tell her that I’m sorry for whatever the fuck that was, but I decide against it, because I have no goddamn reason to be sorry at all.
I grab the bottle of shampoo from behind her and flip the top open, squeezing some into my palm. Then I begin to wash her hair, my eyes focused on hers. There’s nowhere else to look right now. Nowhere else I’d rather look.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Haze,” I murmur. “I’m going to keep you.”
“Are you, though, truly?” she asks.
I hum, my fingers massaging her scalp, lathering the soap there. I can’t look away from her, not that I ever want to even try. Call it love, call it lust, I don’t really give much of a fuck, because all that matters is the fact that I’m hers and she’s mine.
Nothing else means a goddamn thing. Not a fucking thing. Lowering my head, I touch my mouth to hers, inviting, while my fingers continue their ministrations. Her lips part, and I take the opportunity to slip my tongue inside her and taste her.
Elodie’s moan fills the small shower, her warm, wet body pressing against mine as she arches her back. Her hands wrap around me, her nails gently dragging down my back.
My cock hardens at her touch, something she likely feels pressed against her belly, because in the next moment, her hand is off my back and her fingers are curled around my length.
She begins to stroke me with soapy, wet hands, and I don’t dare try to stop her or have any kind of discussion. Continuing to tangle my tongue with hers, I kiss her. She consumes me just as she has since the moment I laid eyes on her.
I surrender to her—mind, body, and soul. I am hers to take, to keep, to fuck.