Page 83 of Stolen Voices

She brings her shimmering eyes to mine.

An ache in my chest forms at the forlorn look on her face. “Hey, what’s wrong, princess?”

“It’s just…”

“What is it?”

“I really need a shower, and it hurt to put these pants on. How am I going to get ready for bed?”

My body sags in relief. I thought she was worried about the accident, not about a shower.

Fuck.

My palms sweat, and my heart pounds in my chest. Fucking hell. I’m going to have to help her, and she will be naked.

“I will help you get cleaned up.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Oh, I’m going to be uncomfortable all right,I grumble in my head. Making his excitement clear, my dick jerks to life in delight at the prospect of seeing Callie’s naked body. I ignore the horny bastard.

“I won’t be.” Glancing towards the dining room, I smile. “I have an idea. Give me a few minutes to get everything prepped, and then I will help you get cleaned up.”

twenty

Callie

“Iwillhelpyouget cleaned up.”

There is no double meaning behind his words, and yet they sound salacious. Eli is going to help bathe and dress me. A man I have had a crush on since the day I met him is about to see me naked.

A bolt of liquid lust shoots through me, making my core ache with need, and my heart races, pounding wildly against my ribs.

This is not how I envisioned Eli seeing me without clothes for the first time. In my fantasies, he’s desperate to have me and rips my clothes away before taking me with a rough, all-consuming passion I’ve only read about in books.

This is nothing like that. Eli isn’t a man starved for my body. We aren’t … anything to each other. I’m his injured client, incapable of washing my own damn hair.

But this situation I’m in with him is the furthest thing from sexy.

“Stay right here, and I’ll be right back,” Eli says, bringing me out of my mental freakout.

Frozen on the couch, I watch as Eli rushes out the door and returns, carrying a duffle bag, my purse, and a guitar case. Unshed tears well in my eyes, making my nose prickle. The thought he put into gathering the things I would need to be comfortable is staggering. He thought of everything.

Warmth fills my chest. No one has taken care of me in so long I’ve forgotten how it feels to have someone by my side looking out for me.

Eli moves past me with my bags and down the hall, where I assume the guest room is. He returns and slips off his sweatshirt before heading toward the dining room. He removes the cute burgundy cushion from the wooden chair and tosses it on the table.

“What are you doing?” I ask, too curious to keep quiet.

“You’ll see.” He blasts me with his smoldering smile, and carries the chair through the house and out of sight.

Nervously, I rub my sweaty palms down my pants and look around the living room as I wait for him to return.

When Eli said we were staying at his brother’s place, I pictured your typical bachelor pad. Black and white color scheme, leather couches, and a flat screen the size of the wall. This place is nothing like that. It’s cuter.

If I were a regular person, this is the home I would want to live in. It’s warm and inviting, a place for relaxing with family and friends. I love how the furniture doesn’t match but somehow still works together. The variety of colors decorating the space makes this house feel like home.

I look to my left and find a wall filled with family photos. I can barely make them out, but I spot Eli immediately. He’s dressed in his Hollywood agent uniform, holding the cutest little boy I’ve ever seen. The boy, who I assume is his nephew Rhys, looks like a younger version of Eli, except for the eyes. Even from here, I can see the boy’s are caramel brown and have wickedly gleaming rings of gold flecks in them.