Page 30 of Beneath the Scars
“Are you sure? Is there anything you didn’t like?”
“The edging was torture.”
Michael’s chuckle rumbles under my chest. “But it made you come so much harder.”
I sigh, not wanting to make him think I loved it too much because he’ll edge me longer next time. “I suppose.”
A smack sounds before a sharp pain blooms on my ass cheek. I whip my head up to stare at Michael in shock.
“Don’t lie to me about the things you enjoy, Adalaide. I need the honest truth at all times.”
I deflate a little. “Yes, Sir.”
“You enjoyed the edging?”
“Yes. A lot.”
He presses a kiss to my mouth. “Good girl.”
A moan stirsme from my sleep. The soft light of dawn barely pierces through the tent to highlight the dark form of Michael next to me. His head is tucked into my neck, his arms wrapped tightly around my body, trapping me in the lightweight sleeping bag. It’s a little stifling, but not even a world-ending disaster could make me move.
Another small whimper vibrates against my chest. My heart cracks when I realize he must be having a nightmare.
“Michael?” I shimmy a little, jostling him in the process. “Wake up, love.”
He startles, his head shooting up from where it was hiding in the crook of my neck. Fear brightens his dark eyes until they focus on my face. Then shame floods his gaze, and he pushes away from me.
With jerky movements, he pulls on his sweatpants and is out of the tent before I can say a word.
Well…that’s not exactly how I imagined our first morning together going. I sink into the air mattress with a heavy sigh. Do I let this go? We’ve barely established our relationship. I don’t want to push him, but I don’t want him to think I’m going to run away when he’s struggling. He needs to know I’ll be by his side through every mountain and valley we’ll have to navigate together.
I sit up and throw on his T-shirt. The fresh air outside the tent washes over me in a cleansing wave. It gives me the chanceto take a breath and focus on the enigmatic man who has stolen my heart.
Michael is squatting next to the small fire pit, stirring up the coals until they begin to blaze again. The thick muscles in his arms and back flex as he moves, reminding me of how he so easily surrounded me last night.
I hope he’s making coffee. Otherwise, this conversation might get a little punchy. For me, anyway. Mornings aren’t my favorite time of day, and the sun is barely up.
Plopping down in one of the camping chairs, I wait for Michael to finish piddling around our little campsite. He’s stalling and keeps giving me these sidelong stares. I have a lot of leg on display in his big T-shirt, so that could be all it is; however, I think there’s more to it.
Michael eventually hands me a steaming cup of coffee before sitting heavily in the chair next to mine. “What would you like me to say? I had a nightmare. That’s it.”
“Okay.”
His jaw clenches, the muscles at his temple fluttering with the movement. “Do you want the details? Do you want me to tell you how my nightmares are less dreams and more memories about the fucked-up shit I went through as a kid?”
I slowly hold my hand out—palm up—to Michael. His entire body deflates at the gesture as he grips my hand in his. The possessive way he holds me connects us more than words ever could.
Quietly, I say, “I want you to feel safe enough to talk to me about anything. I don’t expect you to word-vomit what’s going on in your head, but I’d like to be a sounding board when you need one.”
“I’ve only ever talked to a therapist about my past, Adalaide. Not even my parents know the full extent of what happened to me. Fuck, you know more than they do at this point.”
“I don’t need to know the details of your past. I just hope that one day, you’ll have the confidence in me to take on the darkest parts of you and not run away.”
I’m pushing too hard. I don’t expect Michael to do a one-eighty overnight, and I don’t want him to think he needs to change. He’s always been secretive about his emotions. The girls in school used to call him Batman because he was so dark and mysterious. Little did they know it was a self-preservation instinct.
Michael sighs. “None of this comes easy for me. I need you to have patience with me while I try to figure out how all this is going to work. I’ve never let anyone get as close to me as you have in a matter of weeks.”
“I know. I’m sorry for pushing. It’s hard for me to see you suffering and not want to help, but it’s not about me. I’ll follow your lead, and if there’s ever a time you want to talk, I’ll be there. Always.”
