Page 43 of The Sharpest Edges

“Morning,” she hums.

“Mornin’. Sleep okay?”

“I think so.” She squeezes him again, resting her cheek against his back, her words slow like molasses. “Did you?”

“Mhmm. Liked having you beside me.” It ain’t a lie. He might have struggled to find sleep but he absolutely enjoyed being that close to her.

He turns, letting her tuck herself against his front for a proper hug.

“I’m sorry about last night,” she says.

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

“Can we try again?”

He looks down at her as she looks up at him. “You sure?”

“I am. Have a good look at my eyeballs, not dilated anymore, right? All the whites are there?”

There’s a tease in her voice and he smiles with a nod. “Yeah, they ain’t saucers no more.”

“Then kiss me?” she whispers.

He doesn’t need to be asked twice. He bends to capture her mouth with his own, loving the way her body pushes into his, how pliable and soft she feels on his lips, and how eager her hands twist into his shirt to pull him closer.

All the blood in his body rushes south, his head swimming and pulse jack hammering. He back walks her toward the bed until her legs touch the edge and then she’s laying back and he’s going with her, the length of his body covering hers and her legs parting to welcome his hips.

“Wait.” She bites her lip, one hand on his chest. “Slow? Can we go slow? Just this first time.”

There’s still a trace of fear in her eyes. It’s hard to seeunless he’s looking, but he is looking and it’s a glaring warning bell. He saw that same flicker of uncertainty the moment she rubbed over him on the floor last night, and she felt the outline of his cock through his pants. He knows that he is a lot to take. Ain’t got but two notches in his bedpost, not that he ever collected them, but both times had been a bit of a struggle to fit.

He isn’t sure if she’s wary of his size or wary of other things, but it might be a good idea to take it even slower than she’s asking. “If you need to stop, we can. Okay?”

“Okay.”

The tension in her body relaxes after that agreement and he rests his mouth at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, lapping a lazy kiss there while his hand works under her shirt. She inhales sharply when he finds a taut nipple and rolls it between his thumb and forefinger and then she sits up to pull the top over her head before laying back again.

Insecurity gets the best of her soon after and she covers herself with fidgeting arms. Not her breasts, those remain exposed. It’s the marks on her body she shields, the clusters of cigarette burns creased across her belly, the cuts along her ribs, and jagged lines that linger just above her pubic bone. Nervous palms flutter back and forth between them on reflex, eager to hide the stories etched into her skin that echo the ones burned into his.

His eyes sting and throat constricts at knowing someone hated her enough to hurt her so deeply, and then at the knowledge that even after such betrayal she’s trusting him not to do it again. He takes her hand in his own, pulling one away from the source of her anxiety, bending over her with one elbow braced on the mattress and tugging her palm underhis shirt.

There is a journey on his skin waiting to be mapped out and he brings her fingertips to the first grouping of scars at his side, little carvings from a pocket knife situated just past his ribs and curving around his back. She wouldn’t have noticed these in the infirmary, so he shows her now, wanting her to feel all the ways they are the same.

It is easier to be vulnerable than he thought it could be when his motivation is to meet her in the middle so they can traverse this uncertainty together.

He allows her to explore on her own, finding puckered circles burned into his body and lashes spread out like tree limbs. She is the first person to touch him there and not cause more pain. The first person he’s allowed access, and it would be so simple to listen to the flicker of wariness in his bones telling him to back away and shield himself, but she is safe, she won’t dig her nails into the wounds and rip them open again.

Ava stops hiding herself somewhere around the moment she locates the belt marks on the round of his ass after inching a careful hand past his waistband. There is no pity on her face like he feared, only recognition of two ruined souls seeking solace in each other.

“I wanna make you feel good,” he whispers, and she nods almost frantically.

He’s never seen anything prettier in his life than her, all soft skin and light freckles, dusky peach nipples peaked just for him.

He bends his head to take one into his mouth and she hums her approval, threading her fingers into his hair, arching up into his lips. He grinds his hips down, needing friction, while swirling his tongue over her breast.

She slept in her clothes because he sure as hell wasn’t about to take her out of them even to be more comfortable, but right now she wants him to get her naked and he is only too happy to oblige. He unhooks the button of her jeans and drags the zipper down with shaky fingers. If only because he’s so damn nervous he’ll get this wrong and fail to please her, but he is here now and he won’t leave her wanting. So he drags her pants off her legs along with her panties, tossing them on the ground and burying his face into the dip of her belly button. He licks a circle there before moving to her lower belly, the light scent of her, warm and inviting, wafting up his nose.

She must realize what he’s planning because she freezes, her voice ragged. “You don’t have to. No one’s ever…I don’t need it if you don’t want to.”

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