Page 63 of Unexpected Heroine

“Lettie, I swear to you I’m going to make this right. And then I’ll come right back to you.”

Although I didn’t ask a question, I half expect an answer. It never comes.

Instead, she coaxes, “Come sit with me for a minute.”

Lacing our fingers together, she leads me to the couch. The serenity that surrounded her when she was in my arms fades, giving way to nervous tension.

That makes sense, considering she’s preparing for me to leave so I can take care of the monsters who hurt her.

Once we’re in front of the couch, she points, indicating I should sit down first. When I do, she eases onto my lap with her supple thighs straddling me.

Instinctively, my hands settle on her waist. “This position doesn’t aggravate your ribs?”

Although she’s spent quite a bit of time on my lap since I rescued her, she hasn’t straddled me like this. I don’t want to cause her any pain or trigger her.

She shakes her head. “It’s okay.” Shimmying her lower body closer to me, she drags her palms down my pecs and up again in a massaging motion.

Gently, I caress the swell of her hips to reciprocate while being cognizant of her injuries.

She removes all remaining space between us, pressing her breasts against me and nuzzling into my neck. “Hold me tighter, babe.”

This is starting to feel sexual, especially considering how many times she’s ridden my dick in this exact spot. Obviously, that’s not the case now, but it could trigger her, so I ask, “Where do you want my hands?”

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “On me.”

“Brat behavior,” I tsk and kiss the tip of her nose. “I meant, where on your body do you want my hands so I don’t hurt you, or you don’t...”

The rest of the sentence dies on my tongue.

Lettie finishes it for me. “So I don’t what? Get scared? You think I could ever be scared of you?”

Over the last few days, I’ve continued researching trauma responses to ensure I don’t inadvertently cause her stress. Most survivors don’t like being caged in.

“I don’t want you to feel trapped or,” I swallow around a lump in my throat, “restrained by me.”

She purses her lips, clucking her tongue dismissively. “Says my rope top.”

After what I saw, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to put her in my ropes again. I can’t imagine she’d want me to.

But we’re not discussing that now. I need to work out my plan, which means I need to give her some comfort and then call in my teammates. I have a lot of work to do.

“Sugar, you know what I mean.”

“Please trust me to tell you if something makes me feel uncomfortable. I’m not scared of you. At all. Okay?”

She’s so damn strong.

“Yes,” I whisper, letting my hands scoop farther around her lower back. “Is it okay to touch you here?”

“Do you have a hearing problem, old man? I just said I’ll tell you if I’m uncomfortable.”

“Fair point, sassy mouth.”

She sticks out her tongue playfully.

For a beat, everything feels like it did before this nightmare. When she was my bratty little butterfly, who enchanted me with her smile and her voice. Even when she was in my ropes, it was me who was tied in knots. She’s had me wrapped around her finger since the day she fluttered into Florida.

Seeing these little glimpses of the old Lettie does wonders for my mood.

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