Page 93 of Lesson In Forgiveness

“Hmm. I think you need to have a bit more faith in her, Grit. Just because she wasn’t taught how to feel doesn’t mean she can’t learn. Christ, Jasper went through the same hell and look at him now—a beautiful wife, gorgeous kids who may or may not take over the world before they’re teenagers, and a life any man would be proud to claim.”

“Him being the operative word. I read the scientist’s notes, Evander. Documentation spanning years’ worth of inflicted pain and torture on a child. The bitch got off on writing down every detail of Tabitha’s suffering, from one experiment to another, from one rape to the next.”

The massive body beside him grew in size, anger broadening an already bullish frame. Muscles flexing, Evander scowled at him. “Has Tabitha read them?”

“No, and she’s not going to. Jasper has the file locked away.” He nearly mentioned the tapes, but he didn’t want Tabitha catching even a hint of their existence. Because it was just them two standing in front of the cabin, Grit took a gamble. “She asked me to fuck her on the plane.”

“Judging by your expression, you were ever the stalwart hero, denying yourself in order to protect her?”

Despite the fact three days had passed since that memorable flight, Grit still tasted her on his tongue. She’d been withdrawn since they landed, quiet on a different level; hence her impromptu playdate with Callie under Eli’s eagle-eyed supervision.

“I’m no hero. Penetrative sex is beyond her scope right now, but I told her we’d try. We didn’t get that far,” he said dryly. “Reading those notes… fuck, Evander, they did things to her no sane person would even think about doing to someone else, let alone a child. There’s nothing to salvage; every part of her is scarred by one act or another. She can’t differentiate between me and them; in her mind, sex is to be feared no matter who’s in bed with her.”

“Hmm.” Tugging thoughtfully on his beard, Evander shot him a sidelong glance. “I can either pat you on the head and indulge your pity party or I can be brutally honest. You got a preference?”

“Knock some sense into me,” Grit invited.

“Seems to me you’re not only underestimating the little hellcat, which is a travesty when she’s obviously going against her own protocols to trust you, but you’re doing a really good job of demoralizing yourself in the process as well.” Raising his chin, the massive Dom took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I’ve seen you with her. I witnessed her freak out and fall apart, only to watch her piece herself back together with you handing her the shards. You are a good man, Grit, and a compassionate Dominant. Perhaps you think otherwise?” he asked when Grit simply grunted.

“I’ve made mistakes with her.”

“We all make mistakes. I’d think with a woman of Tabitha’s caliber, with all her bravado and phobias, her unsavory history, the potential to make those mistakes is considerably higher. She’s a battlefield laced with landmines; tread carefully or she’ll blow up and take a limb or two with her.”

“Literally,” Grit muttered.

Evander chuckled. “Exactly. She’s a woman who survived a horribly abusive childhood full of sexual violence and trauma, yet she allows you to touch her. Voluntarily, Grit, which is… amazing, in all honesty. I’d say not only are you the right man for her, you’re probably going to be the only man for her. That level of trust is what some Doms dream of without ever achieving.”

Okay, maybe that made sense. A sub who never experienced the greater travesties of life could trust more easily, especially if she held onto her innocence. For Tabitha, trust wasn’t a common element in her life; she needed to work at giving it, and the effort made the gift all the more precious.

“Maybe it will take you longer to culminate the relationship with sex, but if she’s already asked for it, it’s on her mind.” Those dark eyes were curious, thoughtful, when they met Grit’s. “Have you considered—and I’m asking this knowing what kind of man you are—just ripping the Band-Aid off in one go?”

He had. There was no point denying it—fleetingly, sure, but even the thought came close to crossing his line of morality. She needed to fight to feel in control; they’d already proven that.

The question was, at what point did her fighting stop being about holding the reins and become a genuine attempt to protect herself?

Yet that was what she’d asked for on the jet, wasn’t it? No foreplay, no niceties, just get on with it and fuck her.

When he said that to Evander, the big guy nodded slowly. “She’s scared.”

“So am I.” The admission didn’t cost him as dearly as he’d thought, not when it was Evander. The guy was calm and unflappable, with a moral compass as strong as Grit’s, and a wealth of wisdom. “The first time is gonna be the worst; I know it, she knows it. If I let her push me, if we rush into it and just fuck without taking her past into the equation, it’s not going to be any better than every time Dominic raped her. I don’t want to regret anything about being with her, but more importantly, I really don’t want her to regret it either.”

One huge hand clamped down on his shoulder, squeezing in solidarity. “It goes deeper than that. It’s just you and me and the wilds of Denver out here, Grit; it doesn’t make you weak to tell me the truth.”

He hesitated, his jaw clenching and releasing. On a frustrated growl, he ran his finger through his hair, fisting the too-long strands and yanking. “Fine, you want the truth? I’m fucking terrified we do it her way and it reminds her of being raped. That she thinks I’m raping her. That she just fucking endures it while fear rips her open.”

“That’s a valid point. However, I’m going to redirect you back to my previous comment about you being a good man, compassionate Dom, yadda blah. You’ve been in the lifestyle long enough to read a sub, Grit. More than that, you understand her well enough to realize when she’s in that predicament. She has a safeword, right?”

“I wouldn’t touch her without one.” Talking to Evander was calming, soothing all the strife this situation was creating. “I can’t say I trust her to use it if she needs it—not because she’s stubborn as fuck and about as prideful as a macho gym prick,” he hastened to add when Evander frowned. “When the terror hits, she disassociates. Sometimes she actively utilizes it as a defense mechanism.”

“That’s definitely a concern.” Humming softly under his breath, Evander shifted slightly. “When Eli and I decided to work on desensitizing Callie to her triggers, we spent an evening at Avalon. Thane chaperoned us the entire time, from start to finish.” He lifted a broad shoulder. “It was a relief to have that support; Thane was discreet, his interactions with us were only when they were required, and Callie forgot he existed. A silent observer whose only job that night was to ensure Callie remained safe throughout the scene.”

Grit blinked. “Did he think you and Elias were going to ignore her safeword?”

“Not at all. There were circumstances I won’t get into right now, but we asked for a safety net. It was a kindness I’d like to pay forward; if you think it would help, either Elias or I would be happy to be the silent observer.” A smile twitched his lips before it blossomed into a grin. “I’d say Callie would too, but if she’s in Little mode, you’re more likely to have a curious active participant. Plus, she’s like a pitbull if she thinks someone is hurting her friends.”

The offer stunned Grit to the point of silence. It was selfless, a safety net as Evander called it. Whether Tabitha would be comfortable was another question, although he supposed she was used to being watched—that alone was enough to decline the gift.

Grit didn’t have an issue with it. He’d done scenes in private, in public, and been on the giving and receiving end of demonstrations. He was at ease in his own skin, his techniques in bed weren’t anything to be ashamed of, and sex wasn’t a taboo subject in his eyes.

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