Page 64 of My Revenant
“How was I supposed to know that?”
“You’d know by talking to me.”
“You don’t talk to me about it either!”
“I’m telling you now. If you want to do something, tell me. Whatever it is, we’ll do it together. You’re not dealing with anything on your own anymore, Rabbit, not even this.”
My stomach twisted, definitely in anger, but also in something else that always came when I was around Dex. Whenever I was with him, I felt like the walls I’d built up around me were one slight push away from crumbling. He made me feel vulnerable, and like maybe it would beokayif I were. It terrified me.
“You say it like it should be easy. It’s not easy.”
“It’s not easy,” he repeated, walking over to me, and I barely resisted the urge to shove at him when his warm hand cupped the side of my face, his other hand found my hip, and he pulled me closer to him. “I know it’s not. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t do that,” I told him, my throat feeling tight. “Don’t be gentle with me.”
“Why?” Even his voice was gentle.
“I don’t know what to do with it.” But it was more than that. “I don’t deserve it.”
“This isn’t something you have to earn, Rabbit. I’m giving it to you. It’s yours.”
“What if I get used to it?”
“You should. It’s not going anywhere.I’mnot going anywhere. It’s safe to let me in.”
The walls crumbled to rubble at my feet.
My hands found his hips, and I pulled him closer, so his body could replace the shield he’d torn away from me. I couldn’t protect myself anymore, so now he’d have to be the one to do it. My lips found sanctuary in the warmth of his neck, in the strong arms that wrapped around me. Safe, like a cage was safe.
“I want you,” I told him, the words too small to encapsulate the magnitude of everything I was feeling in this moment.
“You have me,” he answered, his lips kissing the side of my head so softly it burned.
“More.”
“My rabbit, you can have everything.”
He shifted ever so slightly, and I clung to him, terrified that I’d crumble along with my walls if he parted from me for even a second. He understood. His hands moved down over my clothes to my thighs. Then he was lifting me. I wrapped my legs and arms around him tightly so he could carry me over to his bed.
Even when he laid me down, I refused to let him go.
“I have you,” he told me. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I believed him, letting just enough space pass between us so he could take off his jacket, then mine. His shirt, then mine. His pants, then mine. Repeating until we were both stripped bare foreach other for the first time in a way that was deeper than lost clothing. I’d tensed when my scars were exposed to him, terrified he’d see the ugly marks and be as repulsed by them as I was, but he barely even glanced at them. No, when he looked at me, he saw all of me, everything I was, and that was deeper and uglier than any surgery scars. Still, he looked at me like I was something he craved, something he loved.
Dex Weller was the devil, and he touched me like I was sacred, like it was some form of worship, so what the fuck did that make me?
His hands explored me, all the parts I’d kept hidden. Gently. Reverently. His body over mine, skin against skin. He mouthed at my jaw, my neck. He tasted me. Breathed me deep into his lungs.
His cock was hard against mine, sparks of pleasure and heat rippling over my body as they pressed against each other, but it didn’t feel urgent like it usually did when he touched me, or at least it felt urgent in a different way.
Dex rested his forearms on the bed on either side of me, supporting just enough of his weight that I didn’t feel crushed by him. I wanted to be.
I felt trapped by him, like he was a cage I couldn’t escape from, with walls so thick and high I couldn’t see past them and so little space I was always pressed against him. And it felt so safe. I couldn’t get away, but nothing else could get in either. He’d keep the bad things out, he’d keep the world away, and finally,finally, I could relax and let my guard down. Only in the prison of his love did I feel safe enough to be gentle. I could exist here without baring my teeth and snapping at anyone who came close.
“More,” I whispered to him. “I want you to fuck me. Please.”
He groaned against my skin, pulling back to seek my lips, claiming them like he would claim the rest of me. Then he was pullingback again, and I fought myself not to chase him, knowing he was coming back to me. Trusting him to.
