Page 104 of Lesson In Forgiveness

What? Reeling from the sudden change in his demeanor, she collapsed into the mattress as her muscles went lax. Trembling, sweating, she finally realized what she’d said to make the torture stop.

Rory.

Panting, she dragged herself up the bed until her back hit the headboard. She felt stretched out, overstimulated, her emotions twanging in discordant notes. “That wasn’t funny.”

“Wasn’t meant to be.” Grit bent and retrieved the blanket, sitting on the edge of the bed. Carefully, each movement measured, he draped the warm covering over her, then held out his hand.

Reluctantly, she laid hers in it, flinching when his fingers curled gently around them. The trust between them remained intact, but it was fragile. Her gaze ticked from one man to the other, acknowledging their somber, patient expressions, as though they knew something she didn’t.

“Remember I said he’d need to push you?” Evander asked quietly.

Tabitha blinked, pinning Grit with narrow eyes. Yes, she remembered that, somewhere in the roiling turmoil of her broken mind. Jesus, this was their version of pushing her? “I guess you made your point, huh?”

Grit inclined his head. “One word stops everything, Tabby. Not the nicest lesson to learn, but a necessary one. Unfortunately I think the lesson in forgiveness will be harder; straining your trust in order to strengthen it is a risky business, especially with you. Too much pressure and the bond snaps instead.”

She gnawed on her bottom lip. “I didn’t like it.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Raising their joined hands, he cradled her cheek. “You’re a difficult soul to break, Tabitha. When you’ve been abused all your life, you build defenses. A fortress no one, especially a man, can get through. One you won’t abandon even if it’s crumbling down around you.”

So she liked having a safe space, so what? She’d made it from scratch out of necessity, not some flight of fancy. It was quiet there, pain didn’t have the same debilitating effect, and it was solely hers. It couldn’t be taken away or held for ransom.

“The trouble is, accidents happen when you lock yourself in there. Knowing you, using the safeword is an insult to your pride. There are worse things to damage than that, little tiger, all for the sake of saying one word.” Grit sighed heavily. “I treat women a certain way, Tabitha, and no matter what, it’s always with respect. It’s who I am, how I was raised.”

She stiffened when his fingers caught the blanket, dragging it down her body an inch at a time. Tempting though it was to snatch for it, she bit the inside of her cheek to stifle a verbal protest.

“My mother taught me a woman is a queen, a princess, a miracle of fucking nature. She can wear a thousand faces and never reveal her true self.” He skimmed a fingertip over the top of her left breast, following the natural curve. “She’s fire and ice, diamond and glass, and the strongest, most fearsome creature alive.”

Well, Tabitha couldn’t disagree with any of that, but her voice was gone anyway. Mouth dry, she couldn’t take her eyes off the lazy movements of Grit’s fingers as they drew patterns over her skin from the hollow of her throat to her breasts. Around and around the swell of flesh, rolling and tweaking her nipples into tight, rosy peaks.

Stomach muscles clenching, a pulse throbbing between her legs, she swallowed hard enough to make her throat click audibly.

“She won’t submit to just anyone, but the right one…” His voice lowered to a hypnotic murmur, sucking her in. “For the right man, she’ll give her all. It has to be her choice, but she will offer everything she is.”

He let go of her hand, setting it gently on the sheets; she missed the warmth and comfort of it immediately.

“Is this your choice, Tabby?”

How could one simple question cause such conflicting answers inside her? One half of her was ready to take the jump with him, stepping way out of her comfort zone in order to be intimate with him; the other was vehemently making the sign of the cross over her chest as she backed away at a rapid pace.

Which part of her was stronger, braver, more vocal?

She nodded slowly, feeling the walls constrict around her. “Y-Yes.”

“That’s my girl.” Lifting her chin, he studied her face, his gaze stroking over her like an artist touching brush to canvas. “Hmm. I think we’re going to miss a few steps tonight, pretty tiger. Judging by the spooked look in your eyes, foreplay is going to send you running for the hills, and I need you right here with me.”

Alarm rose quickly. If he didn’t mess around with the pre-game stuff first, that meant he was aiming directly for the finish line. “Grit—”

“Forgive me for how this started off,” he said quietly, rubbing his thumb over her mouth, “and trust I know what I’m doing. Don’t be scared, don’t bolt. Just take calm, quiet breaths and let me have control, okay?”

He was naked; she only had a pair of panties left to protect her sex.

It was tempting to stick her thumb in her mouth and suck on it like she’d seen Alicia do for comfort. Was this what he’d meant by lesson in forgiveness? She had to look past his earlier taunting, the deliberate and successful attempt to intimidate her into using the stupid safeword.

Forgiveness wasn’t in her nature. What had been done to her over the years warranted vengeance, not absolution, and she’d gotten the art of that down to a fucking science.

“I… okay?” Lost in his eyes, she couldn’t think of a reason not to do exactly what he said. There were no lies in them, no malicious intent. Just brown and green and quiet understanding.

His cheeks creased with a smile, barely visible through his beard, but his mouth curved with unspoken approval. “Good girl. Do you need to see my eyes?”

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