I’m sure he’s noticed me taking them every night before bed.

He nods, swallowing. “Are you tired?”

“Not anymore,” I smirk, and he mirrors it.

Goosebumps cover my skin at the memory of how we ended the night. It felt good to have him at my mercy. Never in my life have I felt this powerful. He was too much, and not enough, all at once.

He’s different from the guys I’ve had before. There weren’t many. Just a couple, but neither of them made me climax. And Elias did it through clothes, in less than a minute.

And the other guys were… too basic. I lived with the idea that everyone exaggerated when it came to sexual experiences. Turns out they weren’t and I like sex just fine.

He points his finger at the couch, and I sit on it. He makes himself a coffee, then sits next to me. The clock above the TV shows six thirty in the morning. There’s no point in sleeping now. He would’ve got up for work in two hours anyway, and he’d wake me up with all the noise he makes. I swear he does it on purpose to make me a morning person.

“Can I ask what triggered them?” Elias says, grabbing my arm and laying me down so my head is on his legs. “The nightmares, I mean.”

I stretch my legs and look him straight in the eyes. “My mom did a lot of shit to me and no one ever stopped her.”

The information seems to satisfy him and I love him for not pushing me to tell more, but for the first time in my life, I feel like saying it out loud will free me of it.

“When I was a kid, I used to love her so much. I continued to do so, even when she’d slap me because of a bad grade at school or when she’d pull my hair because I dropped something,” I laugh bitterly. “Then she’d use her shoe instead of her palm, and soon enough she’d replaced the shoe with a paddle.”

“I’m so sorry, Indigo,” he whispers, his hand playing with my hair.

I nod in agreement, knowing that Elias Madden doesn’t say things just for the sake of it. He really means it.