Page 56 of Triggered By Love
Bingo.
This was wrong.
So wrong.
He didn’t want a reward, and he hated that she felt obligated.
He grasped her hand and twisted the unused condom from her fingertips. “Ave, we need to talk.”
She pouted, her lower lip so lush and cute. “I don’t want to talk. You’re treating me like I’m breakable.”
He tossed the condom across the room and stepped into his pants. “Put on some clothes.”
“Wow, just wow.” She pulled the blanket over her naked body. “You got your rocks off and you want to deny me.”
Jason had experience with trauma victims, and Avery was acting out in a typical manner. He pulled his belt tight and wanted to slap himself. He was supposed to protect her—not only physically, but also emotionally and psychologically.
He was the professional here, and he’d done nothing professional after the thrill of her escapade from her parents’ fortress led to the invigorating date at Gino’s.
“You have no idea how much you deserve a tongue lashing.” He yanked the buffalo plaid blanket from her and pulled her by the arm. “But not until we talk.”
It was excruciatingly hard not to stare or touch while pulling her tank top over her breasts. She didn’t help. But after trying to jerk free from him and rolling and kicking while he threaded each leg into her jeans, she settled down and allowed him to sit her in his lap while he zipped her up—without panties, of course.
A man, even one experienced with wrestling mental patients into their clothes, couldn’t be expected to keep to his objective while handling a lovely woman’s bra and panties without letting instinct take over—especially when his heart yearned to give Avery every pleasure her heart desired and more—like love and warmth and security.
“Hope you’re satisfied getting off in my mouth,” she said in a peeved voice with her arms crossed over her breasts.
He held her in his lap, arms wrapped around her and tucking her face into the crook of his neck. How could he respond without making things worse? Of course, he wanted her—but not as a reward. That felt so transactional.
Not knowing exactly what to say, he simply held her and watched the rain splash over the windowpanes. The tapping of water on the tin roof, as well as the intermittent flashes of lightning and thunder rumbling throughout the cabin made him feel like he and Avery were the last couple on earth.
Gradually, her stiff muscles softened, and he could feel the tension dissolve from her body. Her shoulders shuddered gently, and she sniffed and sobbed quietly. He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head, satisfied to lend her his strength.
If he wanted her to open up to him, he’d have to let her take her time. From the way she reacted, both defiant of her brother’s control and distrusting of her family’s care for her, he sensed deep issues.
Last time she cried on his shoulder it was for Brando. He hoped she wasn’t crying because of him. He could never forgive himself for causing her heartbreak.
Yet, what had triggered her? Was it purely the sex that she went overboard on? Was she ashamed or afraid he’d think less of her? Or was it something deeper? Like traumatic overcompensation.
Who had hurt her? The sexual acting out was more than grief over losing a mate. It felt deeper and darker, as if it was something Brando had helped her deal with, and without him, she had lost her moorings.
“You okay?” Jason asked Avery after her sobs subsided.
She wiped her tears with the back of her wrist and nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” He knew he was abrupt, but he didn’t have the patience for useless words and platitudes.
“For being so weak and crying in your arms. This is the second time in a day, a record.”
“We’ve had a long day.” He kissed her temple and caressed the back of her neck. “I’m privileged you trust me enough to cry in my arms, and for the record, you’re not weak.”
Her shoulders shuddered, but he couldn’t tell if she was weeping or chuckling silently. Instead, he kept his arms around her and waited. She was carrying a heavy load alone, professing herself to be strong, and she was strong, but even the strongest person needed someone to lean on.
He well knew, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself.
“Last time we talked, which was this morning,” Avery said. “I was the one who wanted to talk, then I ended up spilling my guts.”
“You needed to let it out.” He couldn’t help kissing the top of her head. Her sexy scent mixed with the electricity of the lightning storm was addictive.
