“I’m serious, Elijah. I’ve had a rough couple of days.” Suddenly, out of nowhere, tears were threatening.
As if he sensed that she really was serious, Elijah’s smile softened. His eyes were now much warmer than the previous second. “Hey, I’m serious too,” he said. “I’m not going to mess with you. I’ll sleep on the floor, I really don’t mind. I’ve slept in worse places, I assure you.”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
“Come on, let’s get up to the room. I think we’re both wiped at this point,” he said.
They walked through the warm, well-lit lobby together. The concierge at the front desk smiled and waved at them. “Enjoy your stay,” he said.
Caelyn waved in return, wondering if that man assumed the two of them were boyfriend and girlfriend like everyone else seemed to be doing.
Of course he assumes that—it would be strange to think otherwise.
And what if I actually wanted something to happened between us tonight? Caelyn wondered. Would Elijah still want to sleep on the floor? Does he think of me as just a silly young girl—a kid—or a friend, or something more?
As usual, she had no answers, only questions and butterflies.
They were on the second floor of the hotel. He pulled out the keycard for the door, and the little light on the door handle went from red to green and flashed. The door clicked and Elijah opened it, revealing a decent-sized room with two queen beds. “Guess I won’t have to sleep on the floor after all,” he winked, flipping on the lights as he went into the room ahead of her.
It was cool inside, with the air freshened scent common to a new room that had just been cleaned recently.
The moment she’d gotten inside, Caelyn dropped her purse and bag to the floor.
She felt like she’d just come home from war. The bed was already calling her name, but first she needed a nice hot shower.
Elijah turned on the television and began flipping channels. Now that they were in the hotel room together, alone, it felt suddenly very intimate and real.
It felt like they were really together.
She looked at Elijah as the light from the television illuminated his face. He was focused on the TV screen, not noticing her for the time being, and she was able to just look at him.
Okay, so he’s fucking hot.
She’d known he was good-looking, clearly, but now that they had stepped out of the car and into a hotel room, something in her awareness had shifted. Elijah was the type of guy that girls would fight to make their boyfriend, compete and scratch and claw to sleep with. He was seriously that hot.
She was alone in a room with him. And there was a bed in this room. They could lie on the bed together and nobody would ever know.
Suddenly, she was imagining them on the bed together—his hard body pushed close to her, his strong, muscular arms encircling her, as he leaned in and began softly kissing her.
She forced herself to break out of the ridiculous fantasy and stop staring.
How can you even think about kissing Elijah after what Jayson did to you last night? Are you insane?
Now, the butterflies were going and she felt anxious, like her heart was racing.
“I’m taking a shower,” she announced, her voice a little too loud.
He took his gaze off the TV and looked at her quizzically. “Okay. Have fun.”
She went into the bathroom, shut the door behind her and turned the water on full blast in the tub. Her heart was still beating too fast and she could hardly catch her breath.
Looking at herself in the bathroom mirror, her face was too pale and she looked like a tired old clown with all the dried makeup and the mascara that had run down her cheeks when she’d been crying.
She felt a strong need to tear off her clothes. They stink, she thought. She’d been wearing them for a day and a half and she’d gone over Jayson’s wearing the outfit. She’d been dumb enough to want to dress sexy for him, never realizing what that might mean.
Never considering that it might lead where it led.
Caelyn pulled off her top and then stepped out of her skirt as the steam started to fill the room. The heat was good. The heat was cleansing. She wasn’t wearing panties because Jayson had ripped them off during the struggle.
Now, looking at her own naked body, she was forced to see the bruises on her upper arm from where he’d grabbed her, the scratch on her belly, another large yellowing bruise on her thigh, the rawness on her knee.
There were other bruises and scrapes, too. Some smaller, some larger.
He beat me up, she realized. He beat me up and raped me.
The thought was loud in her head—almost a scream. Caelyn felt her self-control slipping away. Images from last night were flooding back in now, as if stripping off her clothes had also stripped away the final layers of armor that had protected her from the worst of the memories.
She saw Jason’s face close up, leering at her as he forced her down on the couch.