CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
BRONWYN
Short’s body feels firm as I wrap my arms around him, voluntarily making physical contact with a man for the first time I can remember. His warmth comforts me, and does nothing to make me feel trapped or confined. With not even an inch between us, the air I breathe is full of him, his personal perfume of leather, oil, the sandalwood bodywash I’ve seen in his bathroom, and the faint whiff of sweat that comes from him doing an honest day’s work. There’s not a single thing to remind me of how my father smelled when he’d come to me, forcing me to submit to him.
Selfishly, I burrow in closer. I know he’s holding himself still because he doesn’t want to scare me, but I want him to reciprocate, to actively hug me. I know I don’t deserve a man like him, but after everything he’s done, I can’t see how I could let him go. What he said about making this a family home, intimating he was going to be by my side, helping me with Trip, well, no man could have offered me more meaningful words. He keeps referring to me as his old lady, just like Pippa is to Saint. It’s me who’s insisted it’s only temporary, while he’s put no timelimit on our relationship. And, apparently, money’s no object, not when it’s to make Trip and me happy.
I trust him, I realise. I have faith he’ll do the best for me and Trip.
Now I’m holding onto him as if scared he’ll leave if I let go. So much shorter, my cheek rests against his chest, and I can feel his heart beating, his rhythm synchronising with mine. As he breathes out, I breathe in. It’s almost as if we’re one being.
He moves slightly, not releasing his hold, but trying to make space between us. My knowledge comes from my occupation and studies of anatomy, as well as the memories of how my father abused me, which identifies the reason. Being close to me has aroused him, and he’s trying to stop his hardness rubbing against me. That his cock is erect should scare me, but instead, I feel throbbing between my legs, a sensation I have never felt before. Though one which, as a nurse, I’m aware of the mechanics of. I just never thought something like that would affect me.
Short’s closeness is arousing me.
I’ve an urge to rub my legs together, to relieve this feeling, as persistent as an itch.
This man, this gentle giant, has assured me he’d act like a eunuch for as long as it takes. The fact he’s aroused but taking no action should reassure me I’m safe, but my emotions are conflicted. There’s a pride I can take in affecting him this way, but also a fear of what might entail if I don't step back.
Drawn like a magnet, though, I couldn’t move if I wanted to. Instead, I press in closer, capturing his erection between our bodies.
“Bron,” he groans. And when he tries to pull away from me, I tighten my grip. He could escape if he wanted to, but I know he won’t use force. Or, perhaps, he’ll be the more sensible one of the two of us and push me back. “Bron…” My name comes out ona tortured sigh. “You’ve got to let me go. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
“Perhaps,” I start shyly. “It’s the same thingyou’redoing to me.”
His body tenses, then suddenly, his hands push my arms away, forcing me to let go of him.
He doesn’t want me.I’ve only ever been in the position of having no control, of being forced to give up what a man wanted to take. I’ve never experienced rejection before, and it freaking hurts. I don’t know what to do. My impulse is to turn tail and run out of the room.
But before I can take action, he’s caught my hands in his. “Bron, sweetheart, there’s nothing I want more than to make you my ol’ lady in the flesh. But I won’t when it’s not freely given.”
My eyes crease, and my head tilts to the side.
“If you think you owe me, I can tell you right now, I don’t want your gratitude. You owe me nothing. Your happiness and Trip’s development are all I need to keep a smile on my face. I don’t want you thinking you’re obligated to me. And I certainly don’t want to rush you into anything you’re not ready for.”
It’s his reticence that makes me brave. “Perhaps you’re the one who owes me.”
His raised eyebrow asked the question that I’m too shy to answer without lowering my gaze.
But just like before, he places a finger under my chin and gently forces me to meet his eyes. “Whatever you want from me, Bron. I’ll give it to you.”
Moistening my lips with my tongue, I stammer out, “I want to feel your lips on mine.” That would be a first. Of course, my dad never kissed me. It was always about his dick. Surely, a kiss should be the start of anything resembling a proper relationship?
“A kiss?” Short’s mouth curves. “Think I can manage that, darlin’.”
He bends his head down, and I strain my neck to meet him. It’s not particularly comfortable until Short finds a solution, wrapping his arms around my waist and lifting me a few inches off the ground. There’s a second’s hesitation on his part, and then he lowers his lips, and they brush against mine.
For such a masculine specimen, his touch is so soft. For a moment, our mouths just meld together innocently, then his tongue gets into the action, forcing my lips to part, and then intruding. Only fleetingly, though, but so tantalisingly, when he pulls back, my tongue follows his, then it’s me invading his mouth.
His scent fills my nostrils, his perfume so intoxicating that I’m conscious of him every time I breathe in. My hands fist in his shirt, wanting this intimacy to go on and on. Being close to this man is nothing like I’d imagined it would be. And I want more, not less.
Then he raises his head. Being so tall, my lips can’t follow his. A moan of loss comes from my mouth, making him smile. “Just coming up for breath. Jeez, Bron, you steal all the air from me.”
I might be nervous about what might happen next, but I’m more scared of him stopping or of never again being brave enough to say what I do next. “Short, will you show me what it means to be your old lady?”
Sharp eyes look down into mine. “Need the words, Bron. Are you asking me to make love to you?”
My bravery starts to recede, but then my brain processes his words.He said make love. He didn’t say have sex, fuck you, or any other synonyms for the deed my dad had made so repulsive to me.Had he expressed it in any other way, I’d have stumbled away from him and locked myself in Trip’s room.
