Page 61 of Lesson In Forgiveness

Efficiently, Grit removed the onesie completely, sliding it over her limp legs and letting it drop to the floor. Wrapping her up in the blanket, he arranged her sideways on his lap so he could see her face, and made sure she was tucked in tight.

Ignoring the insistent throb of his cock trapped in his pants, he curled around her, murmuring anything and everything that came to mind simply to draw her attention back to him when she roused.

The last thing he needed was her mixing up what they’d just done together with some long-hidden memory of her father.

A shadow fell over him; he glanced up to see Elias standing an arm’s length away, eyes full of quiet approval, with a damp washcloth held out in offering. “I’ve never seen a sub cry the entire time she orgasmed.”

Guilt rammed like a fist into his sternum. “Fuck.”

Eli’s smile was sympathetic. “Cathartic release is often painful. It’s also a necessary evil. Would you like us to give you some privacy?”

“No. She’ll be more embarrassed, I think, if you’re not here.” Grit reached out and took the warm cloth. “Thanks. For everything, Elias. It’s hard finding a safety net to trust so far from home.”

“That’s something we understand,” Evander said with a laugh. “All too well. Anytime we can help out a friend in need, we do our best. That’s how friends become family.”

Grit glanced over at him, surprised to find Callie was curled on her biggest Daddy’s lap, those gorgeous gray eyes as wide as the moon, sucking on her thumb. “Handpicked family is the best kind. Did we, uh, upset Callie?”

Elias snorted and returned to his seat, giving his wife’s thigh a quick pat. “She was adamant she needed to save Tabitha when you two started your wrestling match. She’s sulking because Van wouldn’t let her join the fray.”

Gently turning Tabby’s face toward him, Grit sighed when he saw the wetness drying on her cheeks. They were still flushed with color, but the evidence of her distress was a kick to the gut, especially when he added in the reddened swelling around her eyes that had nothing to do with an orgasm.

Tenderly, he washed her face, her neck, removing every trace of tears and sweat. Once she woke, he’d get her back to their room and settle her into a nice, warm bath.

Belatedly, he realized Callie’s show was still playing, only muted. On the table in front of them, someone—Eli, at a guess—had set out a couple of bottles of water, a can of soda, and a bowl of chocolate kisses.

Well, that was the refueling part of aftercare taken care of. Now it was up to him to give Tabitha her first taste of physical and emotional aftercare. He doubted very much she’d ever experienced a kind word from Dominic after the fucker violated her, let alone anything resembling care.

“Sweetness, can you relieve Grit of the cloth and take it to the laundry basket please?” Elias asked quietly. “Get yourself a soda on the way back.”

Her thumb popped free. “Okay, Daddy.”

Eager as a puppy, she slid off Evander’s lap and hurried over to Grit. Her face was set in empathetic lines as she studied Tabitha. “Can I say something, Mr. Grit?”

“Sure, sweetheart.”

Chewing on her lip for a moment, she seemed to struggle for the right words. Taking a deep breath, she switched from Little to adult and blurted, “My father didn’t rape me, so I can’t pretend to know how that feels. But he did abuse me regularly, mentally and physically. I understand what it’s like to find a man—men,” she corrected with a shy glance at her husbands, “who push me into doing things I don’t like or want. Things like scenes with the belt or the cane,” she added, turning slightly green. “I tell myself I hate them, that they’re cruel and mean for making me face my fears, but I don’t mean it, not truly. Because when it’s over and I come out on the other side a little bit cleaner, a little more whole… I understand they do it out of love, to help me heal. She will, too, when she gets over the shock.”

He gave her a tired smile. “I hope so, Callie. I really do.”

She gave his hand a light pat before plucking the cool cloth from his fingers. “When you’ve never been loved before, it takes time to get used to it. Once she does, she’ll wonder how she ever lived without it.”

As she beamed at him and turned to skip away, Grit said her name quietly. She stopped and nailed him with those innocent eyes. “Thank you. Not just for the pep talk. For being prepared to stand up for her when she needed a friend.”

“Daddy Vander said it best—that’s how friends become family.”

He mulled that over as he curled his arms tighter around Tabitha’s limp form, rocking her slowly. The fierce trembling wracking her muscles was easing minute by minute, and he expected she’d merge from wherever she was hiding soon enough.

He’d flayed her wide open.

A woman like Tabitha, stripped and raw, would hide until she glossed over her exposed wounds and drew her strength around her like armor. In all honesty, he wasn’t anticipating sweet cuddles and calm contemplation when her eyes opened; no, he was pretty damn sure it was going to be full-out war.

Grit listened with half an ear as Evander and Elias argued in the way of spouses about what to watch next. Callie, of course, voted for more puppeteer dramatics as she plopped down on Eli’s lap this time, soda in hand.

“C’mon, little tiger,” he whispered, touching his forehead to hers. “Can’t hide forever, no matter how much you want to.”

“Grit, you want me to take a look at some of those scratches?” Evander tapped his fingertips to his own neck. “Your wildcat knows how to use those claws.”

Well, shit, he’d forgotten all about the mauling she’d given him. A quick look at his arms made him chuckle; they were marked with long, red welts from her nails, punctuated here and there by bloody dents where she’d broken the skin. “They’ll heal.”

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