no turning back

• seventeen •

gladys

The shower spout coughed and spat out a few droplets of cold water before the shower shut off. I reached out of the shower to grab the towel I'd left beside the sink.

After I dried off, I stepped out and came face to face with my reflection. I cringed at the flush under my skin and rubbed a palm down my cheek. I hadn't stopped blushing from the moment my eyes locked with Elijah's in that parking lot.

My body was far too eager to submit to him than I was comfortable with. It was like my brain disappeared the moment his hands were on me and pure instinct kicked in. All the time apart seemed to erase how intoxicating he was.

This was going to be an issue.

I turned from the mirror and looked at the pile of my clothes on the floor. I didn't want to put them back on and I was itching for something more comfortable.

Walking out in a towel was out of the question, but I decided my kidnapper should know that I didn't have pajamas on me. I unlocked the bathroom door and poked my head out. The smell of pizza filled the room, making my stomach growl.

"Hey, Eli?" I called.

He appeared around the corner, eyes raking in my wet hair and face. There was a ripple of emotion in his eyes, despite the blank expression on his face. Since our emotionally charged conversation half an hour ago, he'd been keeping his face devoid of any emotion.

I saw the crack in his facade, heard it in his voice. The man who believed himself incapable of feeling had felt. When I refused to forgive him, he shut down. My rejection of forgiveness seemed to hurt him.

He had to understand my reluctance to just forgive him, though. There was too much for us to work out. If we even could.

"Do you have any clean clothes?" I asked softly.

His hard obsidians flickered up to my eyes as he nodded. "One second."

He disappeared around the corner, only to return a moment later with a black T-shirt in hand. I was far more consumed with the sight of his bare torso and chest than what he was offering to me.

"Oh—did you—you didn't have to—" I stammered.

I just couldn't get over the sight of his defined chest and chiseled abdomen. He was even sexier than in my fantasies.

His lips curled up briefly as he thrust the black fabric at me. "Just put it on, Angel."

I snatched the shirt and ducked back into the bathroom. After I tugged it on, I wrapped my head in the towel and carried my dirty clothes out to the bedroom.

Elijah was sitting against the headboard, still shirtless, typing on his phone. His gaze swept up to me. I blushed darker as his laser focus scoured every inch of me.

"Do you think we could wash my clothes?" I asked, shifting between my feet.

I felt painfully aware of the fact that I wasn't wearing pants or underwear. His blatant stare and blank face only further messed with my nerves.

"For tomorrow?" I added when he said nothing.

"No," he said.

Kicking my lips, I looked away and lowered my arms. Okay, then.

"You have a different outfit for tomorrow."

My gaze lifted to his again, my tongue brimming with questions. I walked over to the desk and placed my clothes on top, just in case I ended up needing them tomorrow.