Page 41 of Lesson In Forgiveness

“Oh, be still my heart,” she giggled, shocked by the sound.

“There, that’s better. Such a sweet laugh.” Teeth nipped her earlobe. “Before you take a nap on my lap, sit up and kiss me, Tabitha.”

Of course, her whacky brain latched onto his unintentional rhyme and proceeded to loop it into a chant of nap lap, nap lap, nap lap. Humming it in a jaunty two-step under her breath, she touched her lips to the side of this throat.

“Missed the mark by a mile, little tiger. Aim higher.”

Grumbling sleepily, she pecked the underside of his jaw.

“Higher and to the right.”

Pernickety asshole, she thought with amusement. Shifting her weight, she pushed herself into a sitting position, leaned forward, and dabbed her lips against his.

“Perfect. Again.”

Still humming, Tabitha didn’t give it a thought. Playfully, she booped his mouth again, lulled by the stroke of his hand over her back. Touch really wasn’t so scary when it was soothing and gentle, even with his big paws doing the touching. He didn’t snatch or pull at her, grope or hurt her.

“Very good, Tabby. This time, press your lips to mine and count to three.”

There was a trap here, she was sure of it, yet she watched his mouth form the words, heard them clearly, and felt only a subtle desire to obey. So subtle, it seemed as though the suggestion came from within her, not from him.

Focusing on his hand, Tabitha brushed her lips across his, forcing herself to linger as three beats of nap lap looped in her head. Her stomach began to knot uncomfortably as the seconds ticked past, her mind flicking the switch from fun to threat.

“Breathe,” Grit advised when she jerked back. “You did good.”

“That… I… Fuck.” She stared at him, completely unnerved. “I need space.”

“No. Right now, you need to cuddle into me, balance yourself, and process everything. You bent a hard limit today; I’m proud of you.” He shifted his hand to her nape, kneading precisely where tension tried to fuse her vertebrae together. “We’ll get you through this, Tabitha. I’m going to teach you that a kiss doesn’t have to be taken by force, and sex shouldn’t feel like a violation. Everything I do to you needs to make you feel good, not terrified or in pain.”

“That’s a very Dom thing to say,” she said between clenched teeth.

“Maybe because I am a Dom,” he replied, eyes glinting with humor. “Part of me is starting to believe that’s why you’re here. You’ve been on your own a long time, Tabby. Your body has needs it doesn’t recognize—or that you won’t permit yourself to acknowledge. I think you know you can trust me, even though you don’t want to, and that I’m strong enough to take the shit you throw my way. This isn’t going to be a quick ride in the sheets; it’s a fucking marathon.”

“Just because you’ve got a pretty face—”

Grit snorted in amusement. “Men aren’t pretty, little tiger. Gorgeous, handsome, ruggedly attractive, striking—”

She clapped her hand over his mouth with a roll of her eyes. “I dislike admitting weakness. This is a weakness, Grit. It makes me vulnerable.”

His response mumbled against her palm, but he didn’t fight. Instead, his fingertips dragged over her shoulders, following her spine, trailing all over her skin until a place deep in her belly began to ache. Her core clenched in response, her nerves tingling as he caressed every inch of exposed flesh.

Tight muscles went lax; her hand slid away from his mouth. With a soft groan of capitulation, she deflated against him.

“That’s better. Humans have weaknesses, Tabitha. We have vulnerabilities. Despite everything your father brainwashed you with, you are a healthy human woman, requiring all the things any woman needs. We crave companionship as a species; we’re not designed to live alone. We may think we’re apex predators, but in reality, we’re pack animals. Without weapons, we are way down on the hierarchy.” He rested his cheek against her hair. “You don’t need me for protection; you’re more than capable of defending yourself against most threats. But part of you desires physical contact. Listening to a heartbeat beneath your ear just so you know you’re not alone. A voice murmuring to you in the dark as you fall asleep. Warm skin pressing against yours; arms wrapped around you, keeping you close when you’re afraid.”

“I hate you,” she muttered, unable to stop her eyes from fluttering shut.

“Only because I’m right.”

Well, duh. She huffed an irritated breath over his throat, not bothering to reply. She lost herself in the nap lap rhythm ticking away in the back of her brain, and the patient patterns he drew over her skin.

Lost herself in thoughts, then dreams.

*

Grit

Knocking on the door was one of his most regrettable moments, probably because he didn’t know what the hell he was doing. It was likely the worst idea he’d had in a long time, yet here he was, lifting his knuckles away from the wood.

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