“Tell me about Mama Rose, Angel. Why were you there? You were no novice with the whip.”
Her chest heaved with a sigh and she laid her palm over his chest. “I was there for you, Micah. Only you. I practiced because I’d never hurt you with my inexperience. I worked for hours with Mama Rose and one of the other girls there, but you were the only one I ever whipped. You were the only one I ever went there for.”
He swallowed and was silent for a long moment. She waited for the questions, but they didn’t come. She waited for the anger or outrage, but he lay still beside her as if processing what she’d divulged.
“Once a year,” she murmured. “It was the one time I could see you and be with you. I wanted to be close to you, but you weren’t ready. Your grief was still so deep. Maybe I shouldn’t have done it, but the thought of someone else giving you release from your pain was more than I could bear. I wanted to be the one to take care of you.”
A light quiver worked through his body and she felt him inhale sharply.
“That’s what I was missing with Hannah,” he said in a low, pained voice.
She ran her fingers down the midline of his chest and back up again, her movements slow and soothing. She didn’t ask him what he meant. Just waited for him to continue.
“I was always the strong one. It’s what I wanted. It’s what she wanted. She had me and David to protect her, to take care of her.”
“But no one ever took care of you,” she said softly.
“No,” he agreed. “I didn’t think I wanted it. But now . . .”
She raised her head to stare down at him, her hair falling over his chest, still damp. “Now?” she whispered.
“You make me want. You make me want things I’ve never wanted. How is that possible? The idea of sharing myself so deeply with another person. Of trusting them to see me ...”
“Vulnerable?”
He nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.
“I’m vulnerable too, Micah. Always with you. Only with you. Is it so wrong for you to be vulnerable to someone who cares so much about you?”
“Yes,” he said painfully. “I don’t want to ever give someone that kind of power to destroy me.”
She leaned down to kiss him. His hands gripped her shoulders and he pulled her closer, his mouth melting over hers in a warm, sweet rush.
It was she who took control of the kiss. She touched his cheek, in a loving gesture, stroking as her tongue swept over his, light and soothing. She inhaled deeply, holding his scent, letting it wash through her quivering nostrils.
Though he wouldn’t say it, wouldn’t admit it, his actions screamed louder than the boldest of words. He cared. Maybe too much. Maybe not enough. But when he touched her, all she felt was the most exquisite rush of love. It filled her with hope, made her heart ache.
She rotated, sliding her leg over his body, her lips never leaving his. Only when she’d straddled him did she break away.
She slid back until his cock jutted upward against her belly. She stroked lightly, running her fingers up and down the steel length. Then she rose up and tucked it into place. Slowly, reverently, she lowered herself onto his erection.
Their harsh breathing filled the air. She trembled. He shook. He reached for her waist, holding tight. She fell forward, bracing her hands against his chest.
When she was seated fully, she traced a path down his chest with her fingers, touching, loving. So soft, as if she could instill a hundred years’ worth of love in just a few moments’ time. She rolled her hips, making sweet, slow love to him.
Through half-lidded eyes, he watched her, a glow emanating from his dark depths. Yes, he could say what he want, he could hide behind his fears, but his eyes didn’t lie.
She reached for his hands, pulled them together over her belly and then slid them up her body until she clasped them over her heart.
“I love you, Micah,” she whispered. “You may not want it. You may not need it. But you’ll always have it. It doesn’t come with any strings or expectations. It’s given freely.”
With an agonized groan, he rose up, gathering her in his arms. He buried his face in her neck as he shuddered his release deep into her body.
She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight to her. She soothed her hands over his skin and just held him as he held on to her.
“Don’t love me, Angel.”
She smiled against his hair. “That’s one thing you can’t control, Micah.”
When had she managed to creep past his defenses? He almost snorted. What defenses? He didn’t seem to have any where she was concerned.
She loved him. It awed him and scared him shitless. He hadn’t wanted her to love him—she deserved so much better than him—but he wasn’t going to lie to himself. Her love restored life to parts of him that had died with Hannah.
