“We’ll keep him breathing,” I promised. “Until you’re done with him.”
Her pulse jumped at her throat. She didn’t argue.
I reached for the buttons again. Slow. Careful. Prepared to stop if she so much as twitched wrong.
“Ready?” I asked.
Grace nodded once.
Steady.
Brave.
Shaking so hard she couldn’t hide it.
I began to undo the first button.
Not touching more than necessary. Not pushing farther than she could handle.
But staying close enough that she could feel the heat of me—close enough she knew she wasn’t doing this alone.
As the blouse loosened, inch by inch, I felt the shift.
Not sexual. Not yet. Something deeper. Trust with teeth. The kind that could wreck a man if he wasn’t careful. The kind I’d already decided I wasn’t going to run from.
Grace’s fingers were still knotted around mine when I reached the second button of her blouse. They weren’t holding me back—just holding on. Big difference. Her breathing hitched again when the damp fabric pulled away from her skin.
“It’s okay,” I said quietly. “You’re okay.”
Her eyes slid away, jaw tight like she was bracing for judgment. There wasn’t any. I worked the buttons loose one at a time. Slow. Predictable. Talking her through every inch.
“You tell me to stop, I stop,” I said. “You tell me to back off, I back off. You run the pace here.”
She nodded, throat bobbing. “I don’t like that you have to do this.”
“Grace,” I said, meeting her eyes because she needed that connection more than she needed modesty, “I’ve seen my teammates covered in blood, shit, and engine grease. I’ve cleaned worse off Voodoo at three a.m. while he insulted my entire family tree.”
That made her lips twitch—barely, but it was movement in the right direction.
Her blouse slipped off one shoulder. She inhaled sharply, instinctively trying to cross her arms to hide—then stopped when she realized that contact only pressed the fabric against her.
She grimaced again.
“Hey,” I murmured. “Look at me.”
It took a moment, but she did.
“You’re not broken,” I said. “Not ruined. Not dirty. Your body did what bodies do under shock.”
She swallowed hard, tears burning in her eyes but not falling. “I should’ve been stronger.”
“You were,” I said. “Stronger than you think. You’re sitting here breathing—that’s strength. You threw a goddamn paperweight at a man who clearly terrified you. That’s strength.”
Her breath shuddered. Her blouse slid the rest of the way down, and I caught it before it hit the floor. No need to let her see it again.
I moved to her skirt next, hands deliberate.
She stiffened.
