Chapter Twenty-Five

"Oh my God, Elliot, you're bleeding," she said after Dr. Lindstrom left. He had forgotten all the elbows he took to the face, and now his nose was leaking red all over the place once more. She brought him a dish towel, and then wet another one down so he could clean up. "I'm so sorry, El."

He put a hand on her shoulder while holding the wet cloth to his nose. "It's okay, I'll live." He pulled the rag away long enough to look her solidly in the eyes. "Are you okay now?"

"Yeah," she whispered. "I'm not feeling the urge to bolt out the door—at least not for now."

Elliot drew Olivia a bath so she could relax in the hot tub instead of having to stand in the shower. He laid out her pajamas, and waited for her to get out of the bath so he could tend to her wounds. When she was still in the tub, though, she beckoned him, calling, "Elliot . . ."

He came just to the edge of the door, cracking it a little while he talked to her. "You need something?" he said.

"Yeah," she said, and he held his breath while waiting for her to continue. Finally, she said, "Could you wash my back?"

"Um . . . sure," he said, not wanting her to think he was trying to sneak a peek at her naked body. He hesitantly entered, refusing to look at her. She held out a washcloth for him to use, bending her body forward so he could easily reach her back.

He ran the wet cloth over her back, noticing how the wounds had hardened into solid welts, no longer open. "Looks a lot better," he said. He tried not to look past her back, but he spotted her face, peaceful while enjoying his gentle touch.

When he was done, he said, "Here's a towel," and held it out at arm's length while averting his eyes. He would give anything to witness her perfect body, but he knew if he stole a glance, he would be destroying the trust between them. And that's what she really needed the most right now—someone to trust.

He waited for her to get into her pajamas, and then helped her into the bedroom, although she obviously didn't need his help after almost beating his ass to a pulp. When her weary head dropped into bed, he slid next to her, wanting to touch her more than ever before. She laid on her belly, and he massaged her neck and shoulders, casting wide circles with his thumbs but careful not to venture too close to her raised welts.

"Mmmm," she said, and he fought back a shiver, trying not to get a hard-on.

But the temptation was too great, so he leaned in and whispered into her ear, "Get some sleep now."

And then he left her alone, but he found himself constantly peering into her bedroom, worried she might get up. And if she did—watch out. He wondered if she could make it to sleep, or if the cravings for heroin would overtake the hallucinations and propel her out of bed, fighting her way to the door again.

After Elliot left her alone in the bed, Olivia turned over about twenty times, unable to sleep from the chills mixed with sweats combined with crawling skin. On top of it, she still couldn't shake the feeling that someone was right next to her, ready to tie her up and torture her like she was a Guantanamo prisoner.

Dr. Lindstrom had told her she needed to surround herself with trustworthy people, and he used himself and Elliot as examples. She could trust the doctor, she knew that. But he wasn't going to spend every minute with her making sure she was okay—he was her therapist, and that would be crossing a line.

That left Elliot. And yes, she felt in her heart that she could trust him, that he would never beat her or burn her or assault her like Tucker and Lewis had. But Elliot had another way to hurt her, and he had already employed it—he had abandoned her and broken her heart. The thought that he could just get up and leave her alone at any moment sent chills down her spine and made her breath quicken.

She tried to sleep, but obsessive thoughts harangued her, and voices talked to her. She didn't want to be needy, but she had to make sure he was still there with her. "Elliot," she cried out, getting ready to get up and find him if need be.

But he was there in a second, and she let a chest-full of grateful air when he came to her side and sat down next to her on the bed. But now that she had him, she didn't want to admit that she needed him like a child needs a teddy bear.

"What is it?" he said, his eyes full of worry.

"I'm sorry, El. I just . . . I can't sleep."

He thought for a minute and said, "Would it help if I lay down with you?"

"Yeah," she whispered, embarrassed.

He crawled onto the bed and lay parallel to her, facing her. She avoided his eyes but accepted his hand on her hand, his thumb stroking her fingers. Could she trust him to stay with her for any length of time? He had taken care of her this long, and it had been several weeks since Tucker's assault. But if Elliot left now, or in a few days, or even a few months, she would be left with nobody, and it might be more than her tattered heart could bear.

"Liv," he said, and she raised her eyes to meet his. He brought his hand to her cheek, and cupped it with his palm. "Are you okay?"

She would be okay, if she could just trust that he would stay. Her mind flashed back to Tucker's apartment, when Elliot had found her lying on the floor, injured so bad she couldn't stand. What was it he had said? It's okay, Liv. I'm here now.

And then she remembered when she had been in the hospital, and he had said, I'm here and you're safe now.

Remembering the words made her want to cry, and now Elliot said, "Liv? What's wrong?"

She closed her eyes, recalling words he had said when she was barely awake, drugged up in the hospital. I'm sorry I wasn't here for you. I'm here now, Liv.

She squeezed his hand now, licking salty tears off her lips, her mind flashing back to earlier today when he said, I should have never left you, and I'm sorry for that, Liv.

"Liv," he said now, brushing his hand through her hair to get her response. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said, opening her eyes again to stare into his. "I just need to know—"

"Know what?" he said during her pause.

"That you're going to stay. I can't handle you leaving me again, El. So if you're going to go eventually, just go now, please."

He picked up her hand and brought it to his lips, and she let her tears fall freely now. "I promise you, Liv. I will not leave you. Not now, not ever. You may run me off, but I'll be here for you from now on, and I'll never repeat the mistake I made before. You mean too much to me."

She touched his face and smiled. Then she sat up on one elbow, and his eyes got wide like he was wondering if she was going to take off on him again. But she stayed glued to her spot on the bed, only moving closer to him, and his eyes widened again when she swept in to kiss him.

She shut her eyes, letting her lips gently touch his, and he touched the back of her head while parting his lips to accept her mouth fully. She felt him shudder under her, and it must have been contagious, because it made her body shiver in anticipation. She pulled away just to look into those crystal eyes of his, full of promises of endless future moments together. He whispered, "Are you sure—?"

But she wouldn't let him finish, holding up a finger to his mouth. "Shhh . . ." she said, wanting their only conversation right now to happen through glances and touches.

She intertwined a leg into his, pressing her body into him while kissing him hard, her mouth digging hungrily against his waiting lips. Muffled pants escaped the both of them, and she was amazed at how their bodies fit together so perfectly, her hip pressing into his crotch at the same time that his thigh rubbed against hers.

She moaned into his mouth, sparks flying up her groin and into her spine. Their chests pressed together the same as their lips, and he moved one hand down to her breast, where she heaved her chest to show him she was more than ready. He gripped it, holding it firmly in his hand, and she panted, having a hard time restraining herself from jumping on him hard, wanting to take her time and not rush through this monumental act.

"You want me to—"

"Yeah," she mumbled, nodding vigorously, and he slid his hand under her night shirt to find the beckoning breast in the flesh. As soon as his fingers swept over her nipple, she gasped, rubbing her crotch into him even harder.

Their lips met again, only this time it was like two magnets, unable to pull away under any force. She moved on top of him, pulling his pants down as she did, and he took hers down as well, and before she knew it there was only one thin layer of her silky panties separating them.

His erection pressed into her, eagerly rocking against her, and she reveled in the triple pleasure of his hand on her breast and his hardness against her crotch and his tongue darting into her mouth. For a few seconds, she thought she might not even be able to make it to the final act, and she had to pull away.

But their bodies wanted each other too much, and she knew it was time to take off the panties and join with him, and the next thing she knew she was on top of him, guiding him into her. Their flesh fit together neatly, and he thrust in her, causing flames of passion to shoot through every nerve ending from her gut to her the back of her thighs to her nipples. He thrust harder, grabbing at her breasts as his speed and power accelerated until she not only felt him inside her, she felt he was part of her, that they had joined into one, and the transition would be complete when he let loose inside of her.

She moaned loudly now, and he grunted with every commanding drive into her, and she opened her eyes as slits to see him staring up at her, admiring her on top of him, almost daring her to come. She got close and paused, wanting him to release in her at the exact right time. She could tell he was ready when his plunging gained a compulsive pace, like he might die if he didn't lunge even deeper within her.

It was more than she could stand any longer, and she let her body go, letting the tremors overtake her, the ecstasy approaching the high she had experienced on heroin. She could almost imagine his juices spurting into her when he pulsated within her, and she marveled at the way his release strengthened hers.

And then she started to come down, and was afraid that the let-down would be too much to take. Instead, she felt more peace than she had in a long time, and she collapsed on his chest, barely able to breathe. He breathed into her hair, stroking it lightly with his fingers. And now sleep consumed her like a lion pursuing its prey, and all she was aware of was his hand pulling the blanket up over her as she fell asleep on his heaving chest, knowing she could die right now a happy woman.