Key to Hell (Hell Night Series Book 4), page 19
When he turns to leave, I grab his arm. “Wait.” He drops his head, taking a deep breath before lifting it again and facing me. I lick my lips nervously, knowing what I’m going to ask is a huge step, especially for me. But it’s something I need. I need the closeness with him after what just happened.
I lift my lashes and look straight into his eyes.
“Please don’t leave,” I implore softly. “I don’t want to be alone right now. Will you… please take a shower with me?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
EMO
WILL YOU… PLEASE TAKE a shower with me?
Those words have my heart galloping erratically in my chest and all the air in my lungs whooshing out in one long exhale.
Does she have any idea what she’s asking? She has to. She’s an adult. She knows what this means.
How in the hell can the girl I was forced to rape over and over again as a child ask me to get naked and shower with her? Why would she want to, especially after what I just made her do to me in the basement? I have no idea what possessed me to ask her to do such a thing. I just knew I needed her to punish me for what I was forced to do to her. I could have asked Grace or even Trouble, but I needed her to do it. Remembering the pain on her face, the devastation in her eyes…. That’s a regret I’ll live with for the rest of my life. I have so many when it comes to this woman.
She’s not asking for sex, but being naked with someone and bathing with them is one of the most intimate things two people can do. As a child, I saw Rella naked many times, but never willingly. And never while she had womanly curves.
She’s staring at me expectantly, a hot blush on her cheeks, waiting on my answer. The hand she doesn’t have wrapped around my arm tugs nervously at the bottom of her shirt. She’s scared and worried, so I don’t understand why she would ask something that obviously makes her uncomfortable.
Of course, the thought of her asking another man sends a blind rage through me.
“Rella.” I say her name softly. “You can’t possibly want that. You have no idea what you’re asking.”
Her chin begins to wobble, and she bites the inside of her cheek. Her eyes flick away from mine for a brief second. “Yes, I do.” She looks back to me, her spine straightening in determination. “I really don’t want to be alone right now.” I track the movement of her other hand and see her rubbing the top of her thigh. “I’m not using this to coerce you, but you asked me to tell you when I felt the need to hurt myself. It’s there, Aziah, and I’m not sure I’m strong enough to stop it.”
I bite back a curse, knowing that need is my fault. I pushed her into emotional turmoil. I made her think about all the horrible times in her life. It’s because of me that she feels lost and alone. It’s because of my sick and depraved need to have her punish me, the person I’ve hurt the most, instead of me doing it myself. For years I’ve cut into my body, hoping beyond hope it would alleviate some of my guilt. It never does. Now, I’ve hurt her instead. Again. It’s a never-ending cycle. It’s like I was born to hurt her.
Can I really give this to her? The better question is, am I capable of denying her?
I’m not. I’d give this girl the moon and the stars if she asked it of me.
I nod silently, giving in and hoping like fuck it’s not something I’ll regret later. Or worse, she’ll regret.
Relief flashes over her face before she gives me a small smile.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “Would you mind turning around and getting in first?”
I nod again, because apparently, I’ll do anything she asks.
Turning my back to her, I slip my sweatpants down my legs, my hands trembling. I hear rustling behind me, knowing she’s taking her clothes off too.
Keeping my back to her, I step inside the shower and put the key on the shelf in front of me. The water is ice cold when it first hits me, and it takes several moments to warm up. I don’t hear her entering the shower, but rather sense her behind me.
I still don’t turn around, not ready to see her naked or the distress on her face from seeing me the same way.
The muscles in my back constrict when I feel a sponge on my back. I don’t move, and I hold my breath when she gently runs the sponge up and down my spine, taking care around the fresh wounds.
“These are hauntingly beautiful,” she states, and I know she’s referring to the tattoos. “Do they have meaning?”
I’m so distracted by her cleaning me that it takes me a minute to respond. “Yes.” Every tattoo I have on me means something. Most represents the dark parts of my past and how it makes me feel.
The sponge slides over my shoulders, then stops and disappears. Warm breath feathers across my flesh, and I tense when she lays her forehead between my shoulder blades.
“Are all of these scars from your father?” she inquires, so quietly I can barely make out her words.
Her question has memories resurfacing. Ones I wish I could forever forget. The heat of my father’s belt on my back. The sting of a switch tearing into my flesh. The pain I’d feel for days afterward. The hatred that grew each time he hit me.
I blink away the memories and the phantom pain.
“Most of them,” I answer, my voice hard.
“And the others?” she croaks.
I keep my mouth shut, not ready to answer that question. It’s bad enough that I had her hit me with the belt; I don’t want to horrify her even more by telling her it’s a common request of mine.
Thankfully, she doesn’t press the issue.
I release a rush of air when she lifts her head, but I turn rigid again and my hands ball into fists when she lays a kiss on my back where her head just was.
“Will you turn around?”
I clench my teeth and suck in a deep, fortifying breath. I brace myself and turn around slowly, keeping my eyes on her face. She hasn’t been under the spray yet, but there’s still tiny droplets of water on her face from the mist. Her hair is damp at the ends and close to her scalp. Her face is still red, and her eyes are slightly swollen from crying.
Her eyes leave mine and drift down my throat, across my torso, then widen when they land on my cock. I feel like a sick fucking pervert when I let my eyes roam over her body. Long, graceful neck, small breasts, a trim waist, and flat stomach. There’s a small scattering of hair covering the hidden spot between her legs. Her skin is pale and flawless.
She has the most beautiful body I’ve ever seen. I’m ashamed and hate myself when my cock takes notice. My eyes land on her thighs, and my gut spasms at the fresh cuts. My gaze jumps to hers.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I mutter.
Her eyes fall away from mine, shame twisting her features. “You weren’t there,” she answers quietly. I detest the quiver in her voice.
More guilt consumes me, and another mark is made against me for failing her once again.
She grabs my wrist, and I hold my arm out, watching her closely when she lightly begins to wash away the blood. Her face contorts with pain when she looks at the damage I’ve done. Not only the fresh wounds, but the older ones too. Some of my scars are twenty-seven years old.
I stare at the top of her head, but no matter how much I try to avert my attention away from the thought of her naked body, I can’t wipe away the visual of her.
My reaction to her is foreign. Woman are made beautiful, but I’ve never reacted to the beauty of their bodies. I could look at a thousand gorgeous women and feel absolutely nothing. My cock wouldn’t give so much as a twitch. But my first glimpse of Rella stimulates me, mesmerizes me.
What in the hell is wrong with me? Why is the woman I’ve tormented for years the one my body craves? I’m just as sick as my father is. The thought has bile churning in my gut. I want to jam nails in my eyes and cut my dick off. I’ve got no right to look at her.
As she works on my other arm, I lift my head and stare at the ceiling, willing my body to calm down. I loathe myself and call myself every vile name known to man.
“Look at me,” she requests gently.
I force my head down to meet her eyes.
“Please stop torturing yourself, Aziah. I know what you’re thinking, and it’s okay. It’s natural for a man’s body to become stimulated when he sees a naked woman.”
“Not me and not with you,” I grit out. “I should be shot in the fuckin’ head right now.”
She slowly shakes her head. “No, Aziah. You can’t help your body’s reaction.”
“Why? Why are you doing this?”
“Because I trust you,” she answers simply. “Because I know you won’t do anything to hurt me.”
“But don’t you see? I have hurt you.”
“Only at the demand of your father.”
I feel like we’re both beating a dead horse. No matter what I say, she’ll never see my actions for what they were. And I’ll never understand why she never blamed me.
“You’re a fool, Rella.”
Her eyes follow her hands as she rubs the sponge across my pecs, a small smile tipping up one corner of her mouth. “Call me what you want, but I’ll never see it your way. You feel guilt for something that was out of your control. You seek absolution when there’s nothing to forgive.” She lifts her head, her expression serious. “You were my best friend, Aziah. There’s never been a doubt in my mind you would have done anything to save me from your father. And that’s what you did. You saved me from a fate I’m not sure I would have survived.”
She steps closer, her head tipped back. The hand still gripping the sponge presses against my chest, and she flattens the other one beside it. I take a step back when she gets too close, but she just follows me.
“I’ve never, not once, been afraid of you. I’ve never regretted knowing you. I’ve never not felt safe when I’m with you, even back in the Hall.”
The way she says it, the conviction in her voice, the look in her eyes, make me want to believe it. I want to believe it so fucking badly.
My ass hits the wall when she steps so close that the tip of my cock bumps against her lower stomach. She acts like she doesn’t notice, but I damn sure do, and so does my stupid fucking dick. Shame renders me immobile.
A drop of water slides down her cheek and stops at the corner of her mouth. Her tongue darts out to lick it away. My stomach does some weird flip thing.
“I know this may sound crazy.” She stops, and the sound of the sponge plopping on the floor reaches my ears. She now has both hands flat on my chest. “But there’s something I want to try, if you’ll let me.”
My throat feels bone dry, so I have to clear it before I can speak. “What?” I croak.
“Will you….” She hesitates, and her brows knit together. “Will you let me kiss you?” she finishes.
I probably look like an idiot with how big my eyes get. I had to have misheard her. There’s no damn way she just asked if she could kiss me.
“What?” I repeat.
Her voice is small and trembles. “I’ve never kissed anyone before because I wanted to. It’s always been forced on me. But now I’m curious, and you’re the only one I feel comfortable asking.”
Thank fuck for that, because the thought of her kissing another man damn near sends my fist through the wall. Which makes me all kinds of fucked-up, because she shouldn’t kiss me either.
The hopeful look in her eyes has my heart racing and my mind in turmoil. How can I deny her something she has every right to want to experience? But how can she go from being terrified for anyone to touch her when she first arrived to wanting to press her lips to mine? All in a matter of weeks. She was lost and broken only weeks ago. I’ve watched her slowly get better and better. Is she really ready for something so intimate as kissing?
I look at her, really look at her, and try to find something that tells me she’s not. Her gaze is steady on mine with no trace of doubt or fear. She’s nervous, that’s plain to see, but there’s nothing that says she’s scared.
I dig deep down in my psyche to figure out if I’m ready. Kissing isn’t something I did with Grace or the other two women I’ve been with the last several years. The act is too personal and private. It’s done when you have feelings for someone. Unlike Rella, I’ve never kissed anyone. Willingly or not.
My mind wars within itself. A secret part of me wants to kiss her, to experience something neither of us has done before. I want it so badly I can feel the need in my black soul.
But the darkness, the evil part that’s always there in my head, taunting me, fills me with disgust at the thought. I’ve touched Rella in the most awful and vile ways. I abused her body when she was just a child. I failed to save her.
“Don’t think, Aziah,” she whispers quietly. “Just feel.”
As I gaze down into her beautiful green eyes, I know I should push her away. To remind her of all the reasons why this is a bad idea. But I don’t. I’m already standing with one foot in hell, so giving in to this one little thing, something we both want, won’t make a difference.
I nod, and she gives me the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. Just that one look makes the guilt I know I’ll feel later worth it.
I brace myself back against the wall as her hands slowly slide up my chest and stop on my shoulders. She rises to the tips of her toes, and her face gets closer and closer to mine. My stomach does somersaults, and my hands ball into fists against my thighs. The closer she gets, the harder it is to breathe.
Just before her mouth touches mine, I close my eyes. Her lips are soft and warm and just what I imagine heaven would feel like. She doesn’t press hard, just lightly pushes them against mine. I keep my hands to my sides when my body starts begging me to pull her closer. To feel her delicate body against my hard one. I’ve never felt desire like this before. It scares the shit out of me but also makes me want more.
When her nails dig in to the muscles of my shoulders, I release a deep groan.
She pulls back a fraction of an inch. Opening my eyes, I find hers are open as well.
“Is this okay?”
Without thought, I mutter, “Yes.”
She gives me the same smile as before and brings her mouth back to mine. Except this time, her lips are parted, and her tongue peeks out and runs across mine. She tastes better than anything I’ve tasted before. Sweet and tempting.
When she tentatively slips her tongue past my lips, I have to force back the need to devour her mouth. I want more of her taste, more of her unique flavor. I keep my need in check. As much as I’m enjoying it, even though I shouldn’t be, this is for her, not me.
She plays with my mouth, torturing me, for another couple of minutes before she pulls away, standing flat on her feet. Too absorbed in the kiss, I don’t realize until now that her body is flush against mine and I feel her every soft curve. My rock-hard erection is trapped between us. I enjoyed that way too fucking much.
“Thank you.” She drags her hands from my shoulders but leaves them on my pecs.
I stare down at her, unable to catch my breath. Her pupils are dilated, and she licks away the remnants of our kiss from her lips.
I should be the one thanking her. That kiss was one of the single most important moments of my life. It makes me a perverted bastard. I don’t deserve even a fraction of what she just gave me, but damned if it doesn’t leave me wanting more.
Not meaning to, my eyes drift down to her breasts. Her chest heaves slightly, and the hard, little points of her nipples almost touch my upper abs with each inhale. My twisted mind conjures up images of sucking them into my mouth, and I wonder what they would taste like, what they would feel like against my tongue.
What in the fuck is wrong with me? Never in a million years would I have thought I would be sexually fantasizing about Trouble’s little sister. Even without the nightmare of Hell Night between us and all the terrible shit she’s been through, she’s still Trouble’s little sister, and by extension, my little sister.
Shaking my head and silently cursing myself, I bend down and pick up the sponge. My hand shakes when I hand it to her. Hell, my whole fucking body is trembling.
“I’ll let you finish in here.” I clear my throat when my words come out husky. “I’ll bring you some clothes and put them on the sink.”
Her eyes drop from mine to the sponge, but I see the hurt in their depths before she can hide it.
Before I decide to beg her to kiss me again, I grab the key from the shelf and quickly get out of the shower. I snag a towel, not bothering to dry off in the bathroom, and a roll of gauze from underneath the sink. I need to get the fuck out of the bathroom before I do something stupid.
She shouldn’t have given me her first kiss. She should have waited for someone special to come along. I grit my teeth and barely stop my snarl at the thought.
Once I throw on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, I sit on the side of the bed. As I wrap my arm in gauze, I can’t help but wonder if the kiss was as good for her as it was for me. I can’t imagine anything feeling better than her lips pressed against mine. But I know the only reason she gave her first kiss to me was because she feels she can trust me for some reason. I was her only option. It’s stupid and selfish of me to think it was anything more than that. Even so, I’ll never forget it for the rest of my miserable life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
RELLA
I STAND IN THE SHOWER WITH the water hitting my shoulders, my mind still reeling over the kiss Aziah and I just shared. I don’t know why I asked if I could kiss him. I just felt this sudden urge to know what it felt like. To know what it felt like to kiss him. And wow, it was so much more than I ever thought possible.
It’s weird. Until recently, I’ve never looked at Aziah as anything other than my brother’s best friend. Yes, he was always cute as a boy, and now as a man he’s extremely good-looking in a dark and mysterious way, but I’ve never felt any type of desire toward him. I didn’t even think I was capable of such a feeling. I thought everything that happened to me would have killed that emotion.
