Page 57 of The Sound of Silence

“My answer is going to sound cliché.”

“Try me.”

“I’ve never told a woman they were beautiful and meant it like I do with you. You’re different.”

I raised a brow. “You’re right. Very cliché.”

He raked a frustrated hand through his hair and looked out over the water.

“I’ve watched you around the gym. If a male gets too close to you, I see how you visibly spook. You’re good at covering it up, but it’s there. You’re very cautious—even with me. It’s why I’ve kept Hana involved in our self-defense classes.”

I frowned, completely perplexed about what this had to do with telling me—or any other woman—that they were beautiful.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Turning to face me, he placed two cautious hands on my hips.

“There’s always been this undercurrent between us I can’t explain. You’ve kept me at arm’s length for months now, and I’ve been patient. I don’t know what your story is, but I hope you’ll feel comfortable opening up to me one day. Until then, I don’t want to say or do anything that might scare you off. And well…when I say you’re beautiful, I don’t mean it in a superficial way.”

“What way do you mean it?”

My heart began to beat rapidly in my chest. I didn’t know why I pushed him to continue. I was afraid his answer would somehow cause a seismic shift in how we were together, both as friends and—assuming I could make it there—as lovers.

“At the risk of sounding like a damn poet, I’ll say it.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “You’re stunning. The beauty I see inside you is something I’ve never seen before in any other woman. You’re strong and there’s beauty in strength. But there’s fear inside you, too, and I’m afraid that fear will hold you back from exploring this thing that’s been growing between us.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, terrified to tell him his fears matched my own. Instead of responding right away, I flagged down a waitress who was walking around with a tray of bubbly champagne for guests to purchase. I fumbled in my purse for a twenty, but Derek beat me to it. After paying the waitress, he handed me a flute and kept one for himself. I downed mine in one long gulp. I wasn’t a big drinker, so combined with the wine I’d had at dinner, the champagne went right to my head. I smiled weakly and shrugged.

“What can I say? It was good champagne.”

“Talk to me, Sparky.” Derek eyed me warily. “What’s wrong?”

I stared at him, trying to articulate how I was feeling. I could tell him he made me feel safe, then immediately contradict that with all the reasons he terrified me. I could tell him the truth about being legally married, which could potentially shatter the fragile trust we had. I could share all the terrible things Ethan did to me, but that would bring me back to that final night—a night I wanted to bury forever.

Right now, I just wanted to be happy—to feel good. I wanted to be kissed and feel like a whole woman again but the idea of wanting a man again nearly choked me. I would love to give in and completely surrender—pretend I wasn’t broken for just one moment—but Derek was right. I was afraid, and I wasn’t sure if my body was capable of physical intimacy or pleasure anymore.

I had been attending group therapy sessions at Stone’s Hope, a women’s shelter not far from my apartment. The sessions made me see I wasn’t alone. They stressed that there wasn’t a miracle elixir to heal my pain. Only time could do that. I worried my mental scars ran much deeper than the physical ones. I’d relied too much on the shelter of my body to keep them safely hidden away, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to rip them open again.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, inhaling his woody, spicy scent that was already so familiar. The only way for me to know any of the answers was to dive into the dark and murky waters to see if I could swim again. Opening my eyes, I looked deep into the depths of his.

“Why haven’t you tried to kiss me?” I whispered.

“Is that what you want me to do?”

I blinked, not sure how to respond. I didn’t expect him to counter with that.

“Well, er…yeah. I mean, we’re on a date. Isn’t that what comes next?”

He looked at me as if I was a mismatched puzzle and the pieces weren’t quite fitting where they should.

“We’ve covered a lot of ground since you moved here. I know you’re not ready for anything serious, and you want to go slow.” He paused and set his glass down near his feet, then stood and snaked his arms around my waist. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse and ragged, and his hazel eyes were a blazing inferno of desire. “You have to set the pace here, Sparky. I won’t kiss you until you give me permission.”

I thought back to the day he first tried to convince me to take a self-defense class. He promised not to push me to do anything until I was ready—and he’d been following that motto ever since.

“You really are a boy scout, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I mean you’re a good man, Derek. Almost too good to be true,” I explained with a small smile.

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