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A small giggle vibrates through Emerson’s chest. “That makes two of us.”
My heart squeezes at her admission. We both know I’m not a good man, but as long as she knows I’ll always be good to her, that’s all the matters.
“I’ve organized for a car to pick you up at the back entrance so we can avoid the paparazzi,” Wynter tells us as Storm slips into the room, his eyes looking over Emerson protectively. They’ve only known each other for a few hours, but I see the familiar look in his eyes. It’s the same way he looks at Wynter and Snow, which means he’s accepting Emerson as part of the family. It’s a damn good thing because I have absolutely no intention of letting her go. She’s it for me. I knew it the moment I locked eyes with her, but the mixture of fear and rage swirling in my gut secures that knowledge.
Sooner or later, Emerson will be a Saint James, and if I have my say, it will be the former.
21
Emerson
The numbness I allowed to take over when Rayne bundled me in my arms starts to fade the moment we get into the limo. The way he’s holding me only seems to make my heart clench more, it’s like he thinks one wrong move will break me.
Hell, he might not be wrong about that. I’ve never felt so fragile in my life. I’ve never felt like I need someone else to hold me together, but I’m honestly starting to think if Rayne isn’t touching me, I’m going to fall apart.
He doesn’t let me go for a moment though, if anything, his arms only grow tighter around me. He’s barely holding on to his control. His body vibrates with anger, but not toward me. No, all he’s showing me is care so tender it seems foreign for him.
When the car stops out the front of a tall building a few blocks from the venue, I think we’re stuck in traffic, but then I’m being carried toward the building, Rayne easily balancing me in one arm as he pulls a key card out of his pocket.
The lobby of the building is warm and welcoming despite how obviously upper class it is. I feel out of place in my torn dress and the tear tracks down my cheeks. The only saving grace is that Rayne covered me with his coat before we left the vacant room to head toward the car.
“Why are we here?” I ask quietly as we step into the elevator. The only positive I can see is that no one seems to have taken notice of the fact I look like a wreck, or that Rayne is carrying me.
“Because I need you in my bed tonight, sweet girl. I need to know you’re safe behind so much security there’s no way anyone can get to you.” His voice is soft, but I hear what lurks beneath the surface. He needs this just as badly as I need to be in his arms.
I nod. “Okay.”
We’re silent throughout the elevator ride and as we walk down the short hallway to the only door at the end. When he steps into the apartment, I hear my own intake of breath and cringe. This place is incredible. The space looks like something out of an interior decorating magazine and the closer we get to the two-story wall of windows, the more of the Chicago skyline comes into view. It’s breath-taking, and even though I don’t belong here, I find myself wanting to fall into the fairy tale of it all. I want to forget I’m flat broke with a mountain of debt, I want to forget that I have assignments piling up at home I almost definitely will not be able to finish by their due date, and I want to forget that even though everything with Rayne feels so natural that it feels like breathing, I know we can’t last. We’re from two different worlds.
I haven’t even begun to process the fact Rayne killed someone in cold blood in front of me. He deserved it, but fuck. I’ve never seen a dead body before, never been near a gun until tonight. And yet I only see Rayne as my savior, my safe place.
He doesn’t pause before making his way through the penthouse and into a bedroom, the bed in the middle of the room is huge. He doesn’t stop to let me take in the masculine room that smells like him.
It isn’t until we make it into the biggest bathroom I’ve ever seen in my life that he carefully lets me down to my feet but doesn’t allow even an inch of distance between us. Without so much as a word, he leans forward and turns the faucet for the bath on, streams of water pouring into the clawfoot tub.
“Rayne?” I ask quietly. The silence is deafening, and it’s doing nothing to calm my racing heart. I don’t know what I want him to say, or do for that matter, but I need something. I need him to be mad at me for leaving his sight when I promised I wouldn’t. I need him to be mad someone put their hands on what belongs to him. I need something.
He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “Sweet girl, I’m really fucking close to losing my fucking mind. I need you to let me take care of you. Can you do that for me?”
I nod, because what else am I meant to do? Rayne is practically begging me to let him take care of me, and honestly, after the events of tonight, I don’t have the energy to do it myself. I’m covered in the blood of the man that tried to rape me, and every inch of skin he touched feels dirty and I’m not sure I’ll ever feel clean again.
“Thank you, Emerson.” Rayne wraps his arms around me and breathes me in. It’s not the first time he’s done it since he barged into the bathroom and saved me, and if I had to hazard a guess, I’d say it won’t be the last either. He needs me to ground him just the same as I need him.
Slowly he begins stripping the tattered dress from my body, unzipping it carefully and brushing the sleeves down my arms, uncovering my naked body inch by inch. His eyes don’t linger though, instead the moment the dress pools at my feet he crouches down in front of me to tug my strappy heels off one at a time, all the while holding me steady.
He tests the water and a moment later, he scoops me up and lowers me into the warm water. It feels like heaven as I sink into it, allowing my eyes to flutter closed. I’m calmer than I should be. Realistically, I should be in the corner rocking backward and forward. I was very nearly raped, and then I watched a man be murdered right in front of my eyes. Hell, I’m still covered in his blood and God knows what else. But I have my safety net nearby.
When I open my eyes, Rayne is watching me closely, his eyes tracking my every move, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he reaches for the shower gel and sponge sitting at the other end of the tub and carefully starts rubbing circles into my skin.
This version of Rayne is so at odds with the one I’ve spent the last few weeks falling for. He’s gentle but determined as he washes every inch of my skin, never lingering anywhere for too long.
When he’s washed me more thoroughly than I thought possible, he helps me lean back in the tub and rinse my hair out before he gently lathers shampoo into the long auburn strands. It feels strangely intimate to have my hair washed so gently by this beast of a man, but I let him do what he needs to do, knowing he needs this just as badly as I do.
Once he’s finished, the water is a shade of murky red I hope to never see again. I expect my stomach to churn as the water lets out of the tub, but instead I can’t tear my eyes from Rayne as his own feast on my bare skin. I shouldn’t be turned on. What I went through tonight was traumatic and I shouldn’t want anyone to touch me, but it’s different with Rayne. I need him almost as much as I need to breathe.
Rayne lifts me from the tub, and a moment later I’m enveloped by a large fluffy white towel. “Are you warm enough?”
I nod.
