Page 17 of My Trainer Neighbor
My sanity?
"Yes," I breathed, and the word sealed my fate.
His hands slid down to my shoulders, then to my arms, his touch gentle but possessive."Close your eyes."
I did, and immediately felt more vulnerable than I had in years.
"Now breathe.Just breathe and let me touch you."
His hands moved to my waist, then up my sides, barely skimming the outer curves of my breasts.Not sexual, exactly, but intimate in a way that made my pulse race.
"How does that feel?"he asked.
"Good."The word came out as a sigh."Really good."
"Good."His hands continued their exploration, mapping the tension in my shoulders, the tight muscles in my neck."You're so wound up, baby.When did you last let someone touch you like this?"
Baby.The endearment made my knees weak.
"I don't..."I couldn't finish the thought because his thumbs had found the pressure points at the base of my skull, and the relief was so intense it was almost painful.
"Don't what?"
"I don't let people touch me."The admission came out raw, honest."Not like this."
"Why not?"
Because touch meant vulnerability, and vulnerability meant getting hurt.Because the last man who'd touched me had told me I was cold and unfeeling, and I'd believed him.
"Because I'm not good at it," I said instead.
His hands stilled."Not good at what?Being touched?"
"Being soft.Feminine.Whatever it is men want."
"Nicole."He turned me around to face him, his hands on my shoulders."Open your eyes."
I did, and the intensity in his gaze nearly undid me.
"You're the most feminine woman I've ever met," he said."And any man who made you think otherwise was a fucking idiot."
The profanity, delivered with such conviction, made something crack open in my chest.
"Richard said I was too cold.Too focused on work.That he needed someone who could actually connect with him emotionally."
"I don't care what Richard said."His hands tightened on my shoulders."He was wrong."
"How do you know?"
"Because I can see you.Really see you."His thumb traced the line of my jaw."You want to know what I see when I look at you?"
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
"I see a woman who's so afraid of being hurt that she's forgotten how to feel pleasure.I see someone who's convinced herself that wanting things makes her weak, so she's stopped wanting anything at all."His thumb brushed across my lower lip, and I shivered."But mostly, I see someone who's dying to let go and doesn't know how."
"I don't know how," I repeated, the words barely audible.
"Then let me teach you."
