Page 109 of Lesson In Forgiveness

“Good girl. My perfect, beautiful girl,” he murmured, releasing her wrists. He brought them to his mouth, one by one, kissing the faint red marks left by his restraining grip. “I’ve never been prouder of anyone in my life, Tabitha.”

If she wasn’t already glowing like a strip joint sign in the dark, the fresh heat in her cheeks would’ve lit her up like a firework. Uncomfortable with the praise, she let her hands fall to a more natural position on his hips before she simply slid her arms around him.

Everywhere ached. Shoulders, thighs, pelvis.

Heart.

Shaking from more than just two strong orgasms, she pressed her face into the curve of his neck and wept silently. She tasted salt, either from her tears or the sweat on his skin, and felt as though the foundations of her existence were crumbling from under her, never to be the same again.

*

Grit

He was in heaven.

Tabitha’s tears weren’t those of regret—if she’d regretted anything about what they’d just done, she’d have kicked his ass and left—but of deep, painful emotional release. She’d allowed him to gouge her down to the core, purge some of the darkest, dirtiest fears plaguing her, and hollow her out.

She clung to him, her nails anchoring her hands to his back. Warm breath gusted over his upper chest in hiccupping sobs, yet she never made a sound. Muscles quaked beneath him, around him, trembling with shock and the last remnants of her orgasms.

The ripple of her pussy around his cock was going to stay with him for a while.

“Cry it out, little tiger. Hold on to me and let it go.” He hated that she suffered so much. That he, in part, was responsible for some of that pain—after all, he’d bent and pushed some of her limits to get to this point. “I’m right here. Everything’s okay, Tabby. You did good.”

She shuddered and clung harder.

Deciding talking wasn’t what she needed, Grit started to hum instead. He could honestly hold his hands up and say humming wasn’t something he’d ever done moments after sex, while he was still inside his partner, with their sweat and bodily fluids still wet between them.

Remembering they hadn’t been alone, he froze, then glanced over to the corner where Evander should be. Gratitude and relief filled him when he discovered their friend was absent; Grit thought he’d probably slipped out of the room while they were… distracted.

Humming the wordless tune, he played with Tabitha’s hair, stroking the bare skin he could reach without moving. The sobs slowed, her breathing steadied. The quivering stopped, her muscles relaxing until she was utterly, peacefully limp.

When her head thumped softly onto the pillow, he eased back to see her face. Still flushed, lightly sheened with sweat, her cheeks wet with her tears, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. Those eyes he loved were little more than pale blue slits between eyelids as pink and swollen as her lips.

“Tired, little tiger?”

A soft whimper. “Just need a minute.”

Yeah, she was gonna be out like a light in thirty seconds, he thought as her head tipped to the side before she jerked it back. There was only so much fear and stress a body could take before the toll was too much—add in a couple of orgasms, flood the brain with hormones, and the whole system collapsed.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Take as many minutes as you need.”

A quiet snuffle was the only answer he got. Tuckered out, she fell asleep exactly as she was, her pussy enveloping his cock, her arms loose around his waist.

Because he could, he watched her sleep. She looked younger somehow, without the internal glow of madness she emitted when awake. Without those pretty eyes and her quick wit to distract him, it was easy to see the softer side of her she hid so often.

God, he loved her. The kind of love he hadn’t thought he’d find, the kind that gripped his heart in an iron fist, squeezing tighter every time he saw her or heard her laugh, filling his veins with primal need whenever she fired snark in his direction or threatened him with violence.

The trust she put in him brought him to his knees, not that he’d tell her so. The last couple months of bonding, working hard to build her faith in him, hadn’t cost him anything in comparison to what Tabby brought to the table.

There was no denying he wanted more. More of her, on every level. Moving in together was a monumental step—for them both. While he’d had relationships in the past, sharing a home had never been part of the process. It involved intimacy he hadn’t been comfortable indulging in before her.

Now they’d cleared the sexual hurdle, he hoped her confidence would soar. She deserved to know what it felt like to embrace a key part of herself without fear or shame, to explore her wants and desires without Dominic dictating everything from position to partner.

Asshole.

With time, she’d flourish. The bare bones of a passionate, outgoing sexual creature were there, waiting to be flesh out and formed into vibrant being. He’d felt her willingness to respond beneath her hesitancy, sensed her uncertainty and confusion—she’d always been fucked, never taught how to find her own pleasure.

Grit rested his cheek against hers for a moment, relishing the contact before he dropped a kiss on her collarbone and, with the utmost care, eased out of her. Removing the condom, he tied it in a knot as he strode over to the stainless steel sink in the corner. Depositing it in the trash can, he washed his hands, then soaked the washcloth Evander had kindly left in warm water.

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