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He shakes his head. “No, I’ll talk to him. I just wanted to know what to expect.”
My lips curve up, and walking into Ethan’s house, I grab my guitar from the living room. I make myself comfortable on a kitchen chair.
When Ethan starts to take ingredients out of the cupboards and fridge, I ask, “What are you making?”
“Jambalaya.”
I grin as I watch him move around the kitchen. His muscles ripple beneath his sweater, the thick wool not even able to hide his toned chest and arms.
Ethan catches me staring and gives me his signature hot smirk that turns my insides to jell-O.
“Watching you cook is a turn-on,” I admit, feeling more and more comfortable with being open about how attracted I am to him.
“Hmm… does that mean you want dessert?” he teases me.
Excitement trickles through my veins because exploring intimacy with Ethan is exhilarating and healing. This morning, I felt a huge chunk of the trauma fade away when I saw Ethan naked. There was no terror or panic.
His body wasn’t creepy or disgusting. Anything but. Every part of Ethan is beautiful, and when he was stroking himself, it made intense flames lick at my insides, the desire to be with him overwhelming.
The way his features tightened when he orgasmed, his hooded eyes, jaw clenched… and the groan… God, I’m going to burn up if I keep thinking about it.
I shift on the chair, trying to ease the pulsing need between my legs.
Ethan’s eyes flick to me, then he stops moving and stares. “Looks like you’re a second away from devouring me.”
“God, I am.” I fan my face, and it draws a deep chuckle from him. “I have a hot boyfriend. Can you blame me?”
His phone beeps, and dropping the block of cheese on the table, he takes the device out of his pocket. His face turns to granite, and then it looks like he’s going to be sick.
“Are you okay?” Darting to my feet, I lean my guitar against the chair and move closer.
Ethan’s arm shoots out, and grabbing my shoulder, he stops me from coming closer. He moves the phone behind his back.
Apprehension hits hard, and I start to shake my head.
No.
“Let me see.”
Ethan sucks in a shuddering breath, his jaw clenching so hard there’s a muscle jumping in his jaw. Letting go of me, he moves around the table, putting distance between us.
“Is it him?” I ask, my stomach sinking.
Oh, God.
When will this end?
“Yes.” His voice is hoarse. “Just give me a second.” Closing his eyes, he takes deep breaths. With the previous texts, Ethan got angry, but he never looked sick, and it’s making me worry what the message said.
Is he coming for me?
He’s going to kill me?
A million horrible thoughts rush through my mind, and my voice quivers with fear as I ask, “What did he send you?”
Ethan shakes his head, his eyes locking on me. I see the rage simmering in his icy blue irises, making them look like the light blue part of a flame.
“A text?”
When he doesn’t answer me, my heart stutters in my chest. “What did he send you?” I dart around the table to get to him.
“No, Finlay!” Ethan snaps, the anger boiling over in his voice.
I lunge for the phone but grab hold of his arm instead. He easily rips his arm out of my grasp, but not before I get a glimpse of the phone’s screen. My hands fly to my mouth at the sight of him posing with me. I’m naked and pressed against his body as if we’re a couple.
It's disgusting and humiliating.
He took photos of me?
No. No. No.
“Fuck!” Ethan throws his phone with a growl, the device shattering against the fridge. His eyes lock on me, then he sees my expression. “Christ. You saw?”
The destructive emotions build and build and build, with no way to let them out.
After raping me, he posed me like a doll and took photos?
It feels like my soul turns to nothing more than a dust particle. A useless speck in this cruel world.
“Fin.”
I take a step back as shame burns through me, knowing Ethan saw the photo. Has he sent other photos? What were they of? What has Ethan seen?
God.
Feeling sick to my stomach, I wish I could just disappear from existence.
I’ve reached my limit.
Ethan’s body slams into mine, his arms locking around me as my legs threaten to give way beneath me.
“You’re safe,” he says, his voice void of the rage and filled with strength. “I’ve got you.”
The hell churning inside me threatens to spill over.
I don’t tremble.
I don’t cry.
My emotions start to go numb.
“I’ve got you, baby.”
My mind retreats to a safe place like it should’ve done when he was raping me. I find the deepest spot in my heart where I’ve buried every good thing Ethan’s made me feel, and as the darkness closes around me, I focus on the beauty… on Ethan.
