Page 50 of Darkest Kiss

That's the lie he tells best. I've heard what he wants when he looks at her, the wanting that isn't about keeping her safe at all. He's been with me since I was small. He learned what he is in shadowy rooms that I still can’t talk about. He didn't come out of those rooms gentle.

So no, I won’t be trusting him with Noemi. I keep a foot of mattress between us when I can stand to. People think the walls are about my history, the things done to me. They're not. The walls are a door, and I'm the one holding it shut. Noemi is on the other side of it where he can't get to her.

As long as I'm awake, I can hold it. That's the part nobody tells you about love. It's mostly just staying awake.

Pulling on a fresh t-shirt, I climb under the covers and pull her close.

Noemi instantly burrows against me. “You’re back? You were gone for a long time.”

She's warm and small against my chest and I can feel her pulse hammering through her shirt. My lips find the curve of her ear and I whisper, "I'm sorry."

Noemi pulls back just enough to look at my face. Her dark eyes search mine and whatever she finds there makes her expression soften in a way that cracks something inside me.

"Don't be sorry." She cups my jaw with both hands. "Be here with me."

She means it, Beast whispers. She actually means it.

I kiss her. Slow at first, tasting her, learning the feel of her mouth. Her hands slide up my chest, her touch as white-hot as a branding iron. Every nerve ending in my body is firing at once.

She reaches for the hem of my shirt. I flinch before I can stop myself, jerking back like she's hit me. Her hands freeze in midair.

"Sorry." The word scrapes out of me. I force my breathing to steady, clenching my fists at my sides. "It's not you."

Noemi keeps her hands exactly where they are, open and visible. She doesn't drop them or push forward. She waits, watching me with those patient, coffee-colored eyes.

How can I explain? Talking about this, about the abuse my body has suffered, is incredibly shameful. But for her, I have to try.

I grab her hand, holding it against my chest.

"Nobody has ever touched me for… my sake. Every hand that's been on me was taking something. All of my experiences have been…" I trail off, grinding my teeth. "Against my will."

My face heats. She’s looking at me, her eyes searching my face. What does she see?

Beast is quiet, though I would expect him to have something to say.

"Does my touch bother you?" she asks, quietly.

"No." I shake my head hard. "I fucking love it. That's the problem. It overloads my senses sometimes. My body doesn't know what to do with something that doesn't hurt. Your hands on my skin… they feel too good."

She turns her palm up between us, an offering. "Tell me when it's too much," she says. "I'll stop."

I take her hand. I press it flat against my chest, over my heart, and hold it there. My pulse is hammering so hard that she can probably feel it through my ribs.

"Don't stop," I tell her. "I’m desperate to feel you. Just go slow."

“Maybe this can be both of our first times.” She touches my jaw gently, tenderly. “If you want.”

“Yes, pretty girl.” I kiss her fingers. “I want that. I thought… I thought I wouldn’t ever have sex again. But I want you. I’ve wanted you for longer than you know.”

She nods. Her fingers spread against my shirt, warm and steady. Then she leans up and kisses me again, softer this time, her free hand sliding to the back of my neck. I let her pull me down to the bed.

We land on the mattress together, her beneath me, her dark hair fanning across the pillow. I prop myself up on my elbows, trying not to crush her. She's looking up at me with an expression that I want to photograph and keep in my pocket forever.

Reverent, sacred. Is this what love feels like?

I slide my hand down her body, slow and deliberate. She’s wearing panties and one of my big t-shirts. She arches into my touch when my fingers brush the tiny triangle of fabric covering her pussy. Moaning, I tug them aside and find her soaked, slippery, swollen.

“Fuck, pretty girl,” I breathe. My cock throbs against my zipper.