Page 40 of Lesson In Forgiveness

“Breathe, baby. I’ve got you.”

That big hand slid between her thighs, covering her sex. Her heart ricocheted into her ribs as her lungs stopped working completely. The cereal she’d consumed so happily was determined to make a reappearance.

Releasing her grip on his shoulders, she slammed her palms against his chest, shoving herself away as far as her arms allowed.

Panicked whimpers filled her head.

“All right, little tiger. Shush now. Shush.”

“I can’t… I’m sorry, I can’t.” The words squeezed through the obstruction in her throat, croaking free.

“Don’t ever apologize for this.” Grit grasped her face in both hands, his eyes dark and intent. She hadn’t even realized he’d stopped touching her there. “None of this is your fault, Tabby Cat. We took a good, positive first step and we’ll leave it on a high note.”

She wheezed in a breath. “You barely touched me.”

“All my bones are still in one piece. That’s a win.” He tilted his head. “You were a good girl, letting me touch what is obviously a trigger point. That’s a bigger win. Did it hurt?”

“N-No.”

“We’re on a roll. Three wins in a row. Jackpot.” Winking, he tapped a fingertip on her rigid arm. “Relax these for me, little tiger. I’d like to hold you if you’ll let me.”

This request, she didn’t hesitate to obey. She slumped forward, her face pressing into the curve where his neck met his shoulder as the rest of her went limp. The shaken part of her resisted Grit’s arms as they wrapped around her, firm yet light.

“Rest your head for a while, Tabitha. Aftercare isn’t going to kill you, no matter how much you believe otherwise.” One big hand began rubbing circles on her lower back, encouraging her to relax. “It must be tiring to carry around all this shit in your head. We’ll try this again later when you’re calmer.”

God, he smelled good. “Do you hate your neck that much you’d risk it twice?”

Grit laughed and nuzzled his cheek against her hair. “I’m in no particular rush to get inside your panties, little tiger. I’m actually enjoying your company; sex is just an added bonus. For now, we’ll take baby steps toward a goal. Little kisses, a gentle petting of this shy pussy, a lot of care and attention.”

“That sounds like hell,” she whispered against his throat. “Unjust punishment.”

“It would be stupid of me to use desensitization as punishment. I want you to find the pleasure in being with someone instead of cowering away in the shadows. I won’t lie—it’s going to be rough as fuck for a while. You have triggers buried everywhere like fucking landmines under your skin, and I’m bound to hit a few. That’s just how it is.”

She was tired enough to knead her fingers against his chest, discovering the small motions of her hands on his bare skin were strangely comforting. When it dawned on her that her breasts were flush to his skin, she felt her pulse lurch for several beats before it settled.

“That’s good, Tabitha. Handle the scary moments just like that.”

When his hand didn’t venture any further south than the top of her ass, Tabitha gave herself permission to rest. She sank into him, one vigilant section of her brain keeping a wary eye on his cock as she switched off everything else.

“Grit?”

“Hmm?”

“There’s a slight possibility that I might find you… attractive.”

“Well now, there’s another ray of positivity. Thank you.”

“I’ll probably be sad if I have to break your face, y’know,” she mumbled, wriggling deeper into his warmth. “Won’t be so pretty then. Broken things never get put back together quite the same way.”

“They don’t,” he agreed slowly. “But sometimes, the new way is more appealing. An unblemished ornament, all shiny and freshly painted, is pretty to look at, sure. Me, I’d rather hold something with a chip, a crack, some of that pretty paint worn off in interesting places, and wonder what history it’s seen.”

Her breathing slowed to a more natural pace under the soothing caress of his rough palm. Head lolling, she rubbed her cheek over his skin.

“When I hold you and feel your scars,” he continued, “I think about how each one came to be here.” The circling stopped, his fingertips tracing scar after scar. “They raise questions—how was each one made? What tool marred this beautiful skin, and whose hand wielded it? More importantly,” he murmured in her ear, “are they still alive, so I can strip their skin away inch by inch and listen to them scream for what they did to you.”

A full-body shiver rippled through her. “Careful, big boy. You’re starting to sound like me.”

“Don’t forget what I do for a living, little tiger. Being a mercenary isn’t all quick, clean, and quiet. I do what the job demands, and I’m no stranger to torture. I can peel a man like an orange just as effectively as putting a bullet through his brain.”

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