Collide (Collide #1)(93)

Despite all of this, her head was under attack, barraged with her mother's voice.

"Dillon's a good man, Emily. Make sure you hold onto him and never let go."

Clear visualizations played out of all the times Dillon had helped while her mother was ill. Emily had all but fallen to her knees before she died. Frozen with fear and unable to aid in her last few days, it wasn't her that kept watch over her mother - it wasn't even her sister, Lisa, because she had been in a near fatal accident a few days before - it was Dillon. There was no limit to the amount of times he helped her mother. He held her hair for her as she retched in a bedpan while Emily sat sedated in a chair across the room in utter shock at what was unfolding around her. Forget about him paying for hospital bills and taking care of the funeral expenses on his own, he even went so far as allowing Emily and Lisa to keep what little the life insurance policy provided.

And this is how I repay him?

The thoughts forced out hot, helpless tears as she slid from her bed and grudgingly padded into the bathroom. Lingering liquor sloshed around in her empty belly with every step. It was then that she realized she was still draped in last night's clothing. She cringed as she tore them from her body, wanting to burn them in a blazing fire, along with the memory of what'd happened.

Ridding her flesh of caked-on makeup and the scent of Gavin from her lips, she splashed warm, soapy water onto her face, once again finding her stomach wretched with guilt. She looked at herself in the mirror with disgust, anger, and hate - but, in that moment, she decided she wouldn't wallow under her own scrutiny of what she did. She was drunk; that was her story, and she was sticking to it. If sober, surely, none of it would have ever happened. Her body might want Gavin, but in no way, shape, or form did her mind. In all his pleasure, he was simply a serpent companion to the sexual demon hidden beneath the surface of her skin.

At least that's what she tried to convince her short-circuited brain of on this particular Sunday morning.

Hovering over the sink to allow more water to flow into her cupped hands, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a soft touch against her shoulder.

"Jesus, Dillon, you scared me," she said, her voice timid and riddled with an acute underlying panic she was trying desperately to suppress.

Can he tell? Do I look different? Oh God, do I still smell like him?

He gave a soft smile, his tone low, calming even. "You're shaking, babe," he said, brushing the matted hair away from her face. "Let's get in the shower, okay?"

Swallowing back the acid steadily building in her throat, she nodded as he slid her panties down to the ground, her body quivering in the process. She stepped out from them and unhooked her bra, her eyes never leaving his gaze. Grabbing her by the hand, he led her to the shower and turned it on. He gestured for her to get in. With unsteady breathing from mounting nerves, she watched as he undressed. Grabbing for the soap, she hastily ran it across her body in an attempt to get rid of Gavin's lingering saliva from her pores. Stepping into the shower, Dillon pressed her back against his chest as he began to massage her shoulders. Drawing in the deepest of breaths, she let her head fall back, trying to savor the heat from the water.

"Is Olivia awake yet?" she asked, attempting to stir up any conversation.

"I don't think so. Her bedroom door's still closed." He continued to massage her shoulders. "She must've gotten up from the couch because that's where she was passed out when I came in last night."

"What time are we meeting your parents?" she reluctantly asked.

"We need to start getting ready as soon as we're done in here."