Frayed Silk(49)

“Where’d you go?” I glance down into my mug. “Last night.”

I tuck my bare legs beneath me, taking another sip and waiting for his answer.

“I was going to stay at the Hedgington, but then I just sat in the car for ages before calling Trey.”

My eyes widen. “He knows?”

He stares at his mug. “Yeah, as little as possible, but he knows.”

“How’d it make you feel to tell him?”

Taking a sip of his coffee, he swallows before answering, “I didn’t know if I could, but I did, and yeah, I guess it helped some.”

Trey’s not like a lot of the men in Leo’s world. He’s a little more down to earth and easier to talk to, not interested in appearance and power plays. “He wouldn’t tell anyone.”

He looks over at me then. “I know.”

“I haven’t …” I shake my head.

“I know you haven’t.”

“What time did you get home?” I ask.

His eyes drop to my chest, and I look down to find half of my breast is hanging out, thanks to the robe. I quickly adjust it.

“About one in the morning,” he says quietly.

“Well, thank you … for coming home.”

He nods, and we finish our coffee in silence. It’s a silence that both hurts and comforts because he’s here, and I think that means he’s trying.

“I’ll go make us some breakfast,” I finally say when my stomach grumbles then get up from the bed.

He doesn’t say anything, just remains sitting there while I leave the room. I quickly whip up some toast and fruit. I’m spreading some strawberry jelly on Leo’s when he finally comes into the kitchen and takes a seat at the island. I put his plate in front of him and pour him a glass of orange juice before getting my own toast from the toaster and spreading some butter onto it. He taps the stool next to him when I remain standing and take a bite. Smiling, I move around and sit beside him while we eat. I laugh lightly when he finishes, brushing crumbs off his hands onto his plate.

“What?” He smirks at me.

I lean forward, noticing the way he tenses as my hand hovers over his face. He nods his head subtly, and I swipe the jam from around his top lip with my thumb. Moving my hand away, I’m shocked when he grabs it and brings my thumb to his mouth. Heat spreads throughout my body as his blue eyes hood while watching me. His hot mouth sucks the digit, swirling his tongue around it before slowly releasing it. He doesn’t let go of my hand, though. Tugging on it, he pushes his plate back and grabs my waist, lifting me to sit on the island in front of him. He spreads my legs, running his hands up my thighs and evoking a full body shiver.

“I do love you, Lia. More than my own life.”

My heart thrashes inside my chest at finally hearing those words. Tears gathering and spilling down my cheeks at the sincerity in his rough voice.

“What did she do to you?” I shock myself by asking.

He winces, looking away but keeps his hands on me.

I gently grab his chin, turning his face back to me. “You don’t have to tell me now or ever. But it might help, and I want to help.” A shaky breath leaves my mouth. “I also want to kill the bitch.”

He smiles at that. “There’s my inner-city girl.”

I wait, and he lets go of my leg to run a hand over his mouth.

“Look, I don’t remember a lot of it. Just that after you left that night, she gave me another drink. It wasn’t long until I was just lying there on their couch, feeling all sorts of fucked up. I kept passing out. At one stage, I woke up to find most of the guys had gone. One or two of them passed out on the couch. Including Dylan.”

He exhales heavily, his whole body shuddering with it. I grab his hand, holding it and imploring him with my eyes to continue, that I can handle it.

“She came into the room, told me to just go upstairs and sleep it off. She said she’d call you to come get me.” He shakes his head, smiling sadly. “I believed her.” And of course, he would because she was our friend. “So I let her help me up the stairs. I don’t know where, but when I was finally able to leave, I remember seeing toys and blue painted walls. One of their boy’s rooms, I assume.” My stomach lurches, the toast I just ate threatening to make an ugly reappearance. “Anyway, I passed out again as soon as my head hit the pillow. I came to once or twice, but whatever she gave me … I was struggling to stay with it. She was … my pants were gone, and she was doing …” He stops, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “I don’t remember much of that, thank fuck. But when I really started coming around, she was riding me.” He swallows, meeting my gaze, as silent tears stream down my cheeks. “I kept telling her to stop, but she didn’t hear me, or maybe I just wasn’t making any sense. Not that I think she would’ve given a shit. And then she was making me …” He averts his eyes to the refrigerator. “I couldn’t control it. Could barely move my hands to get her off me,” he whispers croakily then his eyes close. “I’m sorry.”

It’s then I realize that the shame from his body’s natural reaction has messed him up just as much, if not more, than the heartbreaking violation itself.

I gently grab both sides of his face. “Open your eyes.”