Page 39 of Lesson In Forgiveness

“I’m not suggesting you deepthroat me. That would require an incredibly long tongue, and I’m just not into that.” His fingers flexed with the urge to touch her, urge her closer. “Do you find me attractive, Tabitha?”

She sniffed. “My training dictates I don’t find anyone attractive or not. It isn’t something I factor into a kill—all I see is a big, red bullseye and dollar signs.”

That wasn’t any kind of answer he’d accept, he thought with a scowl. “Bullshit. You’re not a machine, Tabitha, a fucking robot incapable of thinking for yourself. Just because your asshole father found ways to assert his will over yours and molded you into something you never should have been, doesn’t mean you’re inhuman. Thoughts, feelings, instincts, they’re all still part of you. So I’ll ask you again: do you find me attractive?”

Chapter Five

Tabitha

Thoughts, feelings, instincts, they’re all still part of you.

But she didn’t want them to be. It was so much easier to be void of emotion. No fear, no guilt, no obstructions getting in the way of her goals. Just solid focus, her weapon of choice in her hands, and a very simple checklist in her head.

She should be out in the big, wide world right about now, hunting down the Irish prick who had the utter gall to put a hit on her head. There were a few candidates on her shit list she could take care of on her way to Ireland, but no, she was losing herself in Rory McCabe, doing idiotic things like sitting astride him without a damn stitch of clothing.

Out there, she was fearless, the undisputed queen of fearlessness.

In here, she was female. Reduced to a growing puddle of hormones and anxiety, unsure of where to set her feet in case the ground opened up and swallowed her whole.

Grit watched her with those fascinating eyes, as patient as a cat on the hunt. His body was relaxed, even his shoulder muscles were free of tension despite the punishing grip of her nails into his flesh.

He was an excellent specimen of a man, she supposed. The time he’d spent working undercover on the construction site had honed his already buff frame. Everything about him was perfectly proportioned, although she suspected he’d probably been gangly as a teenager, before maturity and his physically active career rounded him out into the finished product.

Tabitha shifted uneasily, not enjoying being put on the spot this way. Admitting anything while she was trying to avoid making contact with his erection was a dangerous game. “Attraction is subjective…”

Those eyes darkened slightly. “If you were any other woman, I’d get an answer a different way. Sliding my fingers into your tight little pussy isn’t going to gain me anything but a black eye, though, is it?”

Her core clenched savagely on emptiness. “Maybe a broken nose as well.”

“Might be worth it,” he muttered under his breath. “Are you wet, little tiger?”

Heat rose up her throat to illuminate her cheeks. “I-I can’t produce natural lubrication without pharmaceutical intervention.”

Namely, one of Rita’s experimental drugs which had been rigorously tested on Tabitha during her sexual education with Dominic. The guinea pig lifestyle she’d endured through her teens wasn’t a time she remembered fondly.

“May I?”

May he what? Confused, she frowned at him. When his gaze dropped pointedly to the space between her thighs, she turned rigid. Trying to play it cool and not let him see how the idea rattled her, she arched an eyebrow. “Are you so willing to risk that pretty face, big boy?”

“Yes. Do you think I’m going to hurt you when you can snap my neck faster than I can blink?”

Fuck, she really wished he’d said no. Voluntarily kissing him was preferable to having her core exploited. It was the one part of herself she couldn’t stand to leave unprotected, the place men liked to hurt most. She could take beating after beating, be stabbed and shot and throttled to the point of unconsciousness, but when her center was violated, it gouged deep into her brain, far deeper than any weapon could reach.

Swallowing hard, she said glibly, “It’s your neck, I guess.”

“Yeah, it is.” Slowly, he lifted his hands from the back of his head. His left stroked up her arm to her shoulder, then along her collarbone to her throat. It curled around the nape of her neck before his fingers cradled her skull gently. “In BDSM, subs have safewords, Tabitha. Red, yellow, and green. If the urge to break anything substantial on my person becomes overwhelming, all you have to do is say red. Okay?”

Jesus, she really was insane, wasn’t she? This was going against every self-preservation instinct she possessed, and each one was screaming at her not to do this.

“I want you to watch me, Tabitha. Don’t look away, don’t look down, don’t close your eyes. Your eyes on mine.” Grit nudged her chin up with a finger. “I’m not your father. I’m not any of the men who caused you pain for fun. This isn’t going to hurt, I promise you.”

God help her, she believed him. Trembling, she attempted to hide the flinch as his right hand rested lightly on her thigh. Her skin twitched under the slow up and down glide of his palm as he caressed her leg from knee to hip.

“I-I-I…”

“It’s okay if you need to safeword, Tabitha. I know I’m pushing your limits. Let me go as far as you’re comfortable without escalating into fear.” His fingers trailed lazily along the inside of her thigh. “The last thing I want is for you to be afraid of me.”

Her arms shook as she tightened her hold on his shoulders. One of her nails broke with the pressure of digging into his skin, yet he never reacted; his eyes locked on hers as though the world around them failed to exist.

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