Page 94 of Lesson In Forgiveness

“Don’t give me an answer yet. Think it over, talk to Tabitha. We think of you as family, both of you, and we know how hard it can be traversing those minefields.” Evander dropped his hand from Grit’s shoulder and dug into his pocket. “Now, why don’t I finish giving you a tour of my bribe so you can get back to your hellcat?”

“Evander…” Grit cleared his throat. “I appreciate it, more than you know.”

“The family who plays together, stays together,” he quipped, and slapped Grit on the back with enough friendly force to send him stumbling forward a step. “A helping hand costs nothing.”

Chapter Eleven

Tabitha

When Grit drove her out to Serenity a week after they arrived back in Denver, she had a feeling something big was coming. Good or bad, she couldn’t tell, but the vibes coming off him were… complicated.

It was how she’d describe her life now, so nothing new there.

After he’d made her come on the jet, his mouth on her, his fingers in undesirable places, she’d been conflicted on several levels. Retreating to dissect and assess those conflictions seemed like the smart thing to do, although Grit probably disagreed.

On one hand, she was relieved they hadn’t gone the whole hog. She’d cut her own tongue out and burn it before admitting his dick was intimidating; he was significantly larger in both length and girth than Dominic, and she’d struggled to take her father despite the fact he fucked her daily, sometimes more than once. The men he’d gifted her to—his friends, potential buyers, business acquaintances—couldn’t hold a candle to Grit, either.

What completely baffled her was that Grit had been hard. She understood the physical anatomy of a penis, how the vascular structure worked, where and how deep she could cut without bleeding out a man prematurely, so it wasn’t why he was hard that confused her; it was why he hadn’t taken the opportunity to use his cock when she’d given him the green light.

Honestly, by the time she came, her mind was so floaty, he could’ve fucked her without any form of protest on her behalf, but he’d just cuddled her, tended to her, as though his balls weren’t turning an increasingly dark shade of blue.

Now she was in a bind, wasn’t she? Every time she thought about Ireland, her heart punished her with a sharp twang of pain. She had a job to finish, a mafia dimwit to put down, and her sense of independence belonged to him.

Maybe if he’d just fuck her as she asked, she could regain it. Sex was all pain and sweat, like fire under her skin. Scorching the earth, so to speak, might be enough to sever her dependence on him.

Was that really what she wanted?

Tabitha glanced down when the man possessing her thoughts linked his fingers through hers. The warmth of his skin, the rasp of his calluses, calmed her the way they always did.

“Heavy thoughts, little tiger. Want me to take some of the weight?”

If she asked, he would. He’d shoulder whatever she couldn’t handle, plus a bit more, without making her feel ashamed or weak. It was who he was; the core of him was forged from sugar and spice, and all things morally nice.

This weight, however, was hers and hers alone to bear. It was her who was fucked up so badly, physical intimacy was akin to the seventh level of hell. Maybe the ninth. Regardless, the problem was hers—and Dominic had spent years training her how to get herself out of problematic situations by any means, fair or foul.

She shrugged. “Not as heavy as you think. Just musing.”

His harrumph was full of disbelief. “Musing doesn’t usually turn your eyebrows into a hard vee, Tabitha, or leech the color from your face. You’ve been withdrawn, far too quiet, since we got back here. Even your day with Callie didn’t cheer you up.”

Tabitha pursed her lips. She liked the woman, she really did. There were a lot of similarities between her and Alicia that gave Tabitha a sense of familiarity. Like coming home, if she had one. “I’ve had a lot to… muse.”

Grit’s eyes were on the road, concentrating on not running their borrowed truck into a tree, but he squeezed her hand gently. “We need to talk about what happened on the jet, Tabby.”

Denial rested on the tip of her tongue, ready to lash out and strike him down. Instead, refusing to let her fear rule her reactions, she adopted a more mature approach and simply changed the subject. “Why are we going to Serenity?”

“A couple reasons. Before we get there, we really do need to talk. More specifically, little tiger, I need you to do the talking.”

Her version of in-depth, meaningful conversation came in the form of carving her emotions into someone with her favorite knife. Somehow, she didn’t think he’d be impressed with that, seeing as he was the only one in the immediate vicinity.

Averting her eyes, she stared out of the window, watching the scenery fly past in a blur. Trees, rocks, the occasional furry heap of roadkill. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Question and answer time, then.” Grit cracked his neck, inhaled slowly. “When we do… intimate things, does it feel like I’m forcing you?”

What the fuck? Shock smacked her in the chest as her head snapped around. The thought he might believe he was making her do sex stuff against her will caused her physical pain. “What? No! Jesus, Grit, I… No, never.”

“Good.” The tension in the truck eased into relief. “Do you feel as though we’re rushing things in the bedroom? We seem to be picking up momentum, stepping from one milestone to another in rapid succession.”

Now she rolled her eyes. “Grit, I practically begged you to fuck me.” Goddamn it, he was going to make her express herself in a way she didn’t know how. “I know this is difficult for you. You didn’t ask for this, for my crazy brain to latch onto you like a stalker, for these psychoses to become part of your life. Honestly, I didn’t think you’d keep me around for this long. Dominic did because he had ulterior motives; to him, I was something that served multiple purposes. A living, breathing experiment. His personal sex toy he could play with whenever he wanted, share with whomever gave him the best bribe. A future broodmare, because let’s face it, that would’ve been my final contribution to his program if I didn’t die in the field.”

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