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“Rose,” I roar, and another tremor zips up my spine. “Did he rape you?”
“Stop yelling at me!” she cries. “He didn’t….” She pauses and nibbles on her lower lip. “He tried, but the police got here, and he ran off.”
Grazie a Dio. I drag in a shuddering breath, forcing my lungs to inflate. God,how is this happening? I swore to Stella I’d take care of her friend and she was nearly raped, of all things, under my watch?Merda. This is the cruelest of ironies. I inch closer, focusing on my breath like my therapist insists on to calm the rage.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I sink onto the opposite side of the sofa. “Cazzo, I’m so sorry this happened.”
“I—I need a shower.”
My head dips, and I mutter another string of curses. I’m going to flay the man alive. My fingers cramp with the desire to wrap around thefiglio di puttana’s throat.
She slides to the edge of the cushion and staggers as she stands. I jump up in time to catch her before she falls back. My hands are hesitant as they steady her around the waist. What if she doesn’t want to be touched?Dio, I can’t imagine what she’s feeling right now. Guilt’s claws tear into me, and Stella’s panicked face fills my vision. I put her through this very same thing. Fuck, Iama monster.
Rose leans against me, and I slowly bend, giving her time to deny me. When she doesn’t, I lace one arm beneath her shoulders and the other under her thighs and scoop her into my chest. She’s tall and willowy but right now, she feels so fragile against me.
I carry her toward the bathroom in a few long strides. The studio is so tiny, the entire thing could fit in my master bedroom, and the bathroom is so small I can barely turn around while holding her. I gently place her on the toilet and spin the faucets on all the way.
My eyes fall on her clothes for the first time since I barged in here, fear and rage clouding all else. She’s in an oversized t-shirt and men’s boxers. An irrational wave of jealousy pummels me in the gut. Who do they belong to? Is she dating someone new?
Warm steam fills the small space, drawing me from my insane thoughts. “I’ll leave you to it.”
She nods and lifts her arms over her head as I turn toward the door. A sharp hiss escapes, and I spin back. Her lips are pressed together, and she’s rubbing her shoulder.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I think I just twisted something when he had me pinned to the mattress.”
“Fuck!” I snarl, another wave of anger burning anew. I’m going to find that fucker and tear him to bits.
“Can you just help me get my shirt over my head?”
I swallow hard as a wave of desire crashes below my belt.Idiota. My dick is a fool. I dip my chin and reach for the hem of her shirt, keeping my eyes fixed to the top of her head. I slide one arm free, and my gaze catches her bare shoulder.No bra. Great, now I’m hard. Dispelling the completely inappropriate thoughts, I tug the shirt over her head and pin my eyes to the wall behind her.
“Um, do you need help with anything else?”
“No, I got it, thanks.” She rises, one arm across her breasts and wiggles out of the boxers.
Every bone in my body urges me to look down. Just one quick glance. Gritting my teeth, I fight against the overpowering sensations and whirl toward the door. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”
The shower curtain slides closed, and my fingers wrap around the handle, but before I twist, Rose’s voice stops me.
“Can you just stay in here until I’m done?”
The fragile edge to her tone nearly undoes me.
“Yeah, sure,” I mumble.
It’s the longest five-minute shower in history. Every trickle of water, every touch of skin, every faint groan goes straight to my cock.Dio, I’m acoglione. How can I even be imagining her like that after what she’s been through? I’m such a fucking ass.
Rose finally appears, peering out from behind the pink curtain, her long blonde hair dripping down her shoulders. “Can you hand me the towel and the bathrobe?”
I reach for the fluffy pink things and hand them over, diverting my eyes. Once she’s all wrapped up, she draws the curtain back and I offer my hand. “How’s your shoulder?”
She gently wiggles it around and winces. “A little sore but it feels better after the hot shower.”
“Good.” I lead her through the sitting area and back behind the small partition where her bedroom lies, and my gaze falls on the torn thong on the floor. My fingernails dig into my palm again, and I barely suppress another growl.
She releases a breath and slowly blinks, as if she’s clearing her vision of something awful. Then she turns away from the armoire, apparently changing her mind about getting dressed and releases another slow breath. I follow her as she returns to the living room and plops down on the sofa.
