All this time, almost a month now, I had been extremely careful and deliberate about giving her space. I didn’t have to be a genius to know she was scared of men. She seemed scared of everything, but especially men. After her explanation of what her brother and his friend did to her, it made perfect sense. She was conditioned to be a submissive thing, punished if she stepped out of line. It clarified why she was slow to speak up, nervous to ask for anything, and confused about how to do somethingshewanted to do, not something that was ordered.
With her in my arms, though, I felt the weight of this change.
Touching her.
Holding her.
Feeling her soft body pressed flush against mine.
I waited, not speaking. I had to play this right. Cautious about not gripping her tightly so she wouldn’t fear that I was grabbing her, I tried to keep my fingers splayed open, my arms out but keeping her upright so she could regain her balance and ease away.
Always giving her the options.
The power.
My patience, which ran out quickly the longer she stayed right here in this slight embrace.
The swells of her breasts teased me. The soft silkiness of her hair against my chin taunted me, making me wish I could let it fall through my fingers so I’d know if it was truly as delicate and smooth as it looked.
“You’re okay,” I murmured, wondering if almost falling had pushed her so acutely into shock like this or if she was startled by the fact that I’d caught her. That I had touched her at all without expressly asking her first.
This wasn’t a hug. I wasn’t that stupid. I would never try to take advantage of her. This was only my step of trying to keep her safe.
She nodded, shakily at first as she lifted her face to peer at me. The nervousness in her eyes was like a stab to my heart.
“I’ve got you,” I said, wishing she would lose more of this fear of me. “I won’t let you fall.”
Again, she nodded, but as she shifted her weight on her feet, she slipped again.
Tightening my arms around her again was instinct. All to make sure she stayed on her feet.
But it was a closer hold. A more intimate fit between us.
This time, when she glanced up at me, that nervousness was dimmed. What I observed more strongly was the awareness. The surprise that was colored with shyness. The intrigue and thrill that had her cheeks going pink.
Oh, fuck me.
If she glanced at my lips one more time…
I’d lose my mind.
Being aware of a building attraction from her felt like a victory I didn’t deserve. She was supposed to be a job, an assignment, a target to protect. But all these weeks of watching her heal and come out of her scared shell, I couldn’t help but trulycare. Admire.
And want.
I would lose my mind if she gave me those cues of attraction, signals I doubted she was probably even aware of giving me, oblivious and so new to all of this.
But I wouldn’t lose my control.
It just might kill me to be this patient for much longer. Especially when I had a very strong hunch that I could distract her from the horrors of her memories with a kiss.
I could heal her with a tender touch and gentle caress, whatever she was responsive to just to help erase how she was beaten and abused before.
No.
You can’t.
I couldn’t do it.
