She should never have had to do that, but it had been her means of survival. It was all she knew to do, and she had been willing to do whatever she had to in order to help her momma. Everything but take money from my mother. Because she loved me.
I wished she had taken the money from my mother. I wouldn’t even be mad about it right now. I would have been fucking relieved that she had had money to take care of her mother and that she was still safely in her home.
“Here,” she said, breaking the silence, and I glanced at the run-down apartments to my left. It was just getting worse. I pulled into the parking lot, and the darkness surrounding the place from the burnt-out streetlights wasn’t helping me deal with this. I turned off the truck and sat there, staring straight ahead.
“How long have you lived here?” I asked.
“A little over three weeks,” she said softly.
“What time do you get home at night?”
She fidgeted with her hands in her lap. “About three,” she finally said.
She was fine. Nothing had happened to her. She was alive. I kept reminding myself over and over again that she was okay.
“Jason?” Her voice sounded unsure.
I shifted my gaze to hers. “Yeah.”
“I carry Mace with me when I go from the truck to the apartment, and Momma has a gun. There are three locks on the door,” she said, trying to reassure me.
“Let me get your door,” I told her, and opened the truck door. Kane had already parked the limo and was walking over to us. He was going to make sure we made it safely inside. Even Kane saw the danger here. It wasn’t just me being overprotective.
“I’m getting them out of here tomorrow,” I told him as I walked over to get her door.
“Good” was his single response.
I opened her door and helped her down. She pulled the coat tightly around her and let me lace my fingers through hers as she led me up the stairs and then to the far corner of the building. She opened the door. I had prepared myself for the inside, but seeing it was still hard to deal with.
“I need to get a shower,” she said, looking around unsure of what I was planning on doing. There small room with one sofa had a mini kitchen attached to it. Then two doors. One had to be the bedroom and the other the bathroom. They were sharing a room.
“Go take a shower. I’ll be out here,” I told her, nodding to the sofa.
“It takes me a while. I like to get . . . clean,” she said, the last word so soft I almost missed it. The meaning behind her words made my heart feel as if it had exploded. She thought she was dirty.
“Okay,” I said, and when she turned to go to the bathroom, I followed behind her. She glanced back at me when she reached the door.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to bathe you,” I told her, and didn’t wait for her to say anything more. I stepped into the bathroom and found the light switch. The small room had a tiny shower in the corner.
“It’s too small for both of us,” she said.
“I don’t need to get in to bathe you,” I told her, and opened the shower curtain. “Take off your clothes, Jess. Let me do this.”
She slipped my coat off her shoulders and hung it on the door. “Why?” she asked as she went to a button on her shirt.
“Why am I going to bathe you?” I asked her, reaching for her shirt and unbuttoning it and slipping it off her.
She nodded and let me take over the job of undressing her.
“Because I’m going to make sure you know by the time I’m finished just how perfect and beautiful you are. I intend to wash all those bad memories off of you with my hands. We’re going to leave them here. We won’t be taking that with us.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and I stopped unzipping her skirt. “I love you,” she said, then grinned through her tears.
“I love you more,” I replied, and let her skirt fall to the floor. “It’s time you felt safe. I intend to make sure you feel that way every day of your life.”
Her eyes widened and I tugged her panties down. She stepped out of them, and I took her hand and walked her to the shower before turning the warm water on. “Let me know if it’s too hot,” I told her as she stepped inside.
“I like it as hot as it gets.”
I reached out and touched the smooth skin on her arm. “That would burn your skin,” I said, stroking the soft flesh.
“It washes the dirty away,” she said simply.
I reached for the soap. “I’ll wash it away. No scalding water needed,” I told her as I lathered my hands, then placed them on her shoulders and began massaging her body, slowly worshipping her with each touch.