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“I’m sorry, Matthew. I won’t do it again.”
He crosses the room to me in two long strides. He gently tips my head back with a finger under my chin so that I can’t avoid looking him in the eye. “You misunderstand. I want you to call me that. I want to be your Matty.”
I’m knocked breathless by his impassioned tone.
“Okay,” I smile shyly at him. “I’d like to call you Matty. It just… I don’t know. It feels right somehow.”
“I’m glad, sweetheart. Now let’s get you in the tub before it turns cold.”
The bathwater is the perfect temperature. I practically melt as my body is engulfed by the fragrant water. I don’t even care that it stings on my newly opened wounds. It’s just too dang good to worry about being hurt right now.
I close my eyes and lay my head back against the built-in headrest, letting out a little sigh of contentment.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MATTHEW
Rose lets out a relieved sigh as she settles into the steaming hot bathwater. It feels unnatural to call her Rose. She’s always been my Rosie since the first day we met. I was the only one allowed to call her Rosie, and she was the only one who called me Matty.
I nearly lost it when she called me Matty earlier. For one moment, I thought that she’d remembered me—us—but that wasn’t the case. At least, not yet. The fact that she picked to call me Matty and not Matt as a nickname is promising. Her trauma has all the good memories from her past locked up tight inside her mind. I’m determined to help her heal and bring my Rosie back.
Rose closes her eyes, making content little noises in the back of her throat that go straight to my cock. I feel like a real bastard getting hard when she’s naked and hurt—vulnerable. No matter how many times I will my feet to take me out of the bathroom so she can enjoy her bath in peace, I can’t seem to tear my eyes away.
She’s fucking gorgeous. Her breasts are small and pert—a perfect handful. I bite back a groan when she adjusts her position, causing her dusky pink nipples to pop out of the water. They are hardened to tight buds and look ready to be sucked. My mouth waters at the idea of sucking those tight peaks until she’s mindless with lust. I force the thought away. Now isn’t the time.
Rose has been abused, and not just by Damon. She hasn’t told me what happened after the Grants stole her away in the middle of the night ten years ago. Knowing what Marcia Grant was involved in before her death gives me a good idea. I’ve helped a lot of girls in the last ten years. Most of them victims of unspeakable abuse. Forced into sexual slavery and treated as less than human. Rose has a long road ahead of her, and I plan to be here every step of the way.
My mind drifts to Hannah and Slade. I’ll never forget the broken girl he brought home after she begged and pleaded with him. For the first year, she jumped at her own shadow. Now, she’s thriving in her life here with us. I hold out hope that Rose will be strong enough to grab ahold of the new life she’s being offered and heal from the past. I can only pray that when her mind heals enough, she’ll remember me, and forgive me for not saving her.
The overwhelming guilt I feel for the part I played in her abduction does the job of chasing away my erection and tamping down my untoward desire. The fact of the matter is that I don’t deserve her forgiveness. I’ll regret not taking her out of that fucking hellhole for the rest of my life. I failed her once, but I won’t fail her again.
I finally drag myself away from the bathroom. I grab Rose one of my button-down shirts, not wanting her to feel self-conscious being naked in front of the others. She was embarrassed when I irrationally stripped her down in the living room in front of Slade and Kisten. I saw the blood on her dress and reacted impulsively.
It kills me to have her out of my sight, but I force myself to let her have her privacy. I alternate, pacing the floor and checking the time on my phone. Five minutes pass like thirty. The desire to check on her is so strong I can hardly stand ignoring the pull.
Rose calls out from the bathroom for me, a note of panic in her voice. I don’t hesitate to go to her. I’ll always go to her. She’s sitting up in the tub, her hands clutched to the sides so hard her knuckles are white.
“What’s wrong?”
“I…” she shakes her head. “It’s silly. I’m just being ridiculous.”
“Nothing you feel is ridiculous.” I cross the room to her and kneel down beside the tub. Her hand darts out and grips my hand.
“I opened my eyes, and you were gone. I—” Her words are cut off on a little sob that tears my heart from my chest.
“I’m right here, love. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Everyone leaves.” She’s full-on crying now. “Everyone I’ve ever loved leaves me.”
I carefully lift her from the tub and carry her to my bedroom. I debate sitting with her on the bed but instead decide on the chair. At the clinic, I laid with her, but lying in my bed feels too intimate. I don’t want her to make any assumptions about my intentions. The chair is safer. She doesn’t hesitate to snuggle against my chest.
“Who left you?”
Rose sniffles. She’s quiet for so long that I don’t think she’s going to answer, but then she speaks and rips my beating heart directly from my chest.
“My mom left me and someone else… I can’t remember. I just know that I was left behind.” She goes quiet again for a moment. “Have you ever had a dream so real it feels more like a memory than a dream?”
I think of all the nights I’ve dreamt of her and nod. “Yes, I have.”
