Page 63 of Jump or Fall
How many helmets were left on the wall display when she left?
Four.
There was a sensation against her face—soft and familiar.
“Come back to me, Mara.”
She blinked, trying to reconnect. Her feet were in place, as were her hands. She wiggled her toes and fingers first then worked on her arms and legs.
The touch on her face was Gordon, rubbing the tip of his nose against her cheek.
“We don’t have to do this now. Or anytime soon,” he said, worry deepening the faint lines around his eyes.
“Please don’t stop. I’m just… I don’t know. Not used to being in my body. I want this so badly. I wantyou.”
Her body had betrayed her. Why couldn’t it tell the difference between the one she wanted and the one she hated? The thought made her stomach knot with frustration. Gordon hadn’t done anything to hurt her, yet her mind still managed to wander away.
Was it because Dawson had visited that morning? Would this always happen?
No. She couldn’t let it—couldn’t let that monster steal everything.
Gordon pressed his forehead to hers. “Would it help if I talked to you?”
She paused, considering. “I think so.”
His voice had brought her back. The low vibration of his chest as he said her name had sounded heavenly.
He reached down again, his thumb tracing her hip through the fabric, massaging gently.
She focused on him—his voice, his touch, the taste of his kiss. This time, her mind would stay whole. It had to.
Dawson didn’t own her.
Working her with his strong hand, he moved down to the outside of her thigh before teasing inward. “You’re always safe with me.”
“I know.”
She parted her legs, hoping he would explore further.
Taking her hint, he moved toward her inner thigh, kneading her flesh. It was such an unusual sensation but felt so good, sending waves of heat through her core.
Her breath caught as he slowly progressed up and began massaging around her entrance, his eyes never leaving her for a moment.
“Do you like this?”
“Yes.” Her body was aching for more. The separation of clothing was almost unbearable now as her underwear grew uncomfortably damp.
A jolt of pleasure burned through her as he slid his thumb up and pressed it against her clit.
“I need this off,” she said abruptly.
Her heart raced as she peeled off her pants and underwear in one move. No one else had seen her like this in ten years.
Now your shirt. It’ll be okay. He would never hurt you.
With a shaky breath, she removed her tank top. Her hands trembled as she tossed it aside.
There was no gasp of disgust even though every scar was on full display—including Dawson’s marks on her hips. The ones that held so much more pain than the stripes because they meant she was a possession.
