“I cannot promise you anytime, anywhere, as long as you want,” she admits. “Sometimes, I don’t want to be touched.” Ophelia strokes up and down my back, the soothing gesturethreatening to melt me into a puddle. “But I promise to hug you whenever the urge takes me. Because I … I want to be the loving kind.”
The sweet words rush through me like a wildfire, and I know that I will do anything I can to earn and keep this firebird’s trust.
To be worthy of her.
8
OPHELIA
The water is warm,and Broderick’s hands are hot.
After that emotionally heavy hug, we found our way to one of the rooms with a saltwater pool. Apparently, there are multiple, each one with a wall of windows, showing the beautiful expanse of Lake Galen. We have the place to ourselves, which is nice because no one can witness me ogling the hot professor’s body in his fitted green swim trunks. He’s tall and lithe, not rippling with muscle, but still has an air of athleticism.
Since I haven’t shared any of my past—other than that small detail about my father—Broderick has no way of knowing that this is the closest I’ve ever been to a man that I like.
All through the lesson, I keep bumping into the witch’s tantalizing body as he helps me float in the pool. Despite the oddity of water lapping against my ears, I fight to keep my head tilted back and my body straight, lying flat on the surface as Broderick’s hands support me under my lower back and behind my thighs.
I trust him to keep me afloat.
I don’t trustmeto keep me afloat.
“I’m going to step back now. Stay just like this.” Broderick uses a soothing voice, and I wonder if he perfected it on panicking students.
“Okay,” I squeak.
We’ve tried this twice before, and each of the other times, the moment he released me, I floundered.
But this round, chest tight with gasping breaths and hands making little flutter motions, I stay up. For a whole count of five.
Then, Broderick is back at my side, grinning down at me with his handsome face aglow, green eyes shining with approval. “You did it!”
Now that he’s close, I relax my body and make an awkward transition to standing. “I did!”
Pride fills me, knowing that I’ve made a step—even if it was a small one—toward a future where I have one less thing to be frightened of.
As joy flows through my veins in a heady rush, I give in to the urge to throw my arms around Broderick’s shoulders, claiming another hug that, apparently, he craves as much as I do.
Hedidsay anytime, anywhere, for as long as I want.
I’m surprised that my small admission about my past—the kind of man my father was—has me feeling closer to this man rather than erecting a barrier, like I believed sharing painful memories might.
But all thoughts of my past seep away as I realize exactly what position I’ve put us in.
Soaking wet, me dressed in a single-piece swimsuit that leaves nothing to the imagination, pressed tight against the first person I’ve felt safe with in my entire life.
A man who also happens to have a very rigid part of himself sandwiched between us.
“Ophelia.” He croaks my name, and I find I love the vulnerability revealed in that creaky way his voice gets. “I’m sorry. My body is … a little too excited.”
When Broderick places his hands on my hips, I shiver. But then he pushes my body away enough so that I can’t feel his hardness anymore.
Disentangling my arms, I’m hit with a hot flare of embarrassment, the fire burning in my cheeks. “Sorry. That was my fault. For rubbing myself on you.”
I might lack practical experience with intimacy, but the internet has taught me plenty in the past few months.
Broderick shuts his eyes tight, as if in pain, and the fingers he still has resting on my hips flex. “Maybe we don’t talk about you rubbing me.”
I nod, but with his eyes closed, he can’t see the gesture.
