Page 163 of Stolen Voices

Eli massages my neck, letting the weight of what just happened settle. After a minute, he breaks the silence and stands up, lifting me into a bridal hold.

“Eli, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to take care of you. I didn’t get to do that for you earlier.”

“It’s okay. I’m fine.” The lie slips out too easily.

Eli doesn’t miss a thing as he spears me with his stare. “You are not fucking fine. What we just dropped on you was a lot, and I know you have questions. But I need this, so please let me take care of you.”

The genuine pain and worry in his eyes are almost unbearable to accept. I’m used to being alone, but the pleading look on his face to let him in, to let him help me, overrides my need to be alone. To fix my problems alone.

I don’t want to be by myself anymore. I want Eli by my side, which means I need to have trust in him and his love for me. I need to have faith that we will figure things out together like the team he said we are.

“Okay.” Looping my arms around his neck, I rest my head on his broad shoulder and let him carry me to the bathroom.

He places me on the counter and turns on the water taps, adjusting the temperature, then pours bubble bath into the water and grabs clean towels. Eli grips the collar of his shirt and peels it over his head. His muscles flex and ripple as he throws the offending material to the floor.

Eli’s body is a work of art, better—in every way imaginable—than Michelangelo’s David.

He steps between my legs with a smirk. “I like you wearing my clothes.” He unbuttons his dress shirt and pushes it off my shoulders. “No bra? Such a naughty princess.”

My thighs clench, which earns me a smoldering grin.

He runs his warm finger across my collarbone and down my chest, then swirls the pad around my nipple, turning it to stone. “My brother could have seen these sexy nipples, and I’d have had to poke his eyes out for looking at what’s mine.”

I throw my head back and laugh at his ridiculousness. “You’re crazy.”

“There it is.”

“There’s what?”

“Your smile.” He runs his lips over mine. “I only ever want to see you smile, Callie.”

So fucking swoony. His words are a comforting heat, filling me up and reminding me how much he cares.

Eli slides me off the counter to stand and crouches down to peel me out of my leggings, one leg at a time. He leads me to the tub and helps me step in. He then strips off the rest of his clothes, turns off the water, and climbs in behind me.

I melt into his body as he wraps his thick arms around me. Leaning back, I kiss his neck and rest my head on his shoulder, threading my fingers through his over my stomach.

The combination of Eli’s embrace and the sound of the water lapping around us soothes some of the residual ache I experienced during my panic attack. Eli is giving me space to process, but as time passes, I can feel him getting restless.

Eli has been nothing but understanding. I owe him some sort of explanation.

“I’m sorry for freaking out.” With the tips of my fingers, I trace circles on his hand.

“There is no need to be sorry. I can’t imagine how you must feel, finding out about Silla like that and having to return to LA.” He kisses the top of my head with a heavy sigh.

I really want to look at his face and stare into his expressive, ocean-blue and green eyes, but I’m terrified of what I’ll find when I do, so I stay facing forward.

“I don’t want to push you, Cal, but I’d really like it if you’d talk to me about what happened out there.”

“I don’t want to go back.” Letting the truth tumble out in one breath is scary, but he’s right. I need to talk to him. “I enjoy being here.”

“I enjoy being here too.” He pauses, and I already know what he’s thinking.

“But this isn’t our home,” I finish for him.

“No, princess, it’s not.”