Grow up. You’re twenty-five for God’s sake. Get your shit together.
Unbuttoning her jeans, she lowered the zipper and wriggled the jeans down to her knees. The shirt she wore covered her thighs, so she lifted it up. All she wanted to do was cover up. Most of her old scars were faded, some of them just silvery strips similar to wounds made in surgery. Only hers were not perfect.
She had never gone too deep, or hurt herself to the point that she needed to go to the hospital for stitches. As with all things in her life, she had been careful.
Holding her shirt at the apex of her thighs, she was praying that he didn’t notice her wet panties, or the scent of her arousal.
Isabel truly believed that she could smell herself. Edward knelt down, and she watched him as he removed the Band-Aid from her thigh. The scab was nice and clean. For as long as she could, she kept it exposed so the scab would form quickly. She had even opted for some skirts to help with the process, only long skirts though, down to her ankles, hiding everything.
“Remove your jeans,” he said.
She kicked off her slippers, and stepped out of the jeans as he inspected her leg. It was just the one, which she was happy about. Still, the damage had been bad enough.
“I think I cleaned it really well,” he said.
Nodding, she gritted her teeth. The last thing she was thinking about was the cut. His breath fanned the top of her thighs, so close to her pussy.
She had never felt like this, and the overwhelming feeling of desire was gripping her.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” No, I’m really not. You want truth, and I’m embarrassed. Crap, the first key to our relationship even succeeding is truth and trust. “I’m aroused.” This was going against everything she knew and believed in. She shouldn’t be telling him what she was thinking or feeling.
Glancing down at him, she saw he was smiling, and she winced. “Was that wrong of me to say?” she asked.
“You’ve made me proud, Isabel. I thought you were going to lie to me, but you didn’t.” He gripped her thighs, and she loved how big his hands were. Even though her legs had small lumps of cellulite, she wasn’t conscious of that. She had more scars than cellulite. She loved food, and cooking for Edward was one of the few pleasures she was going to keep.
“How did you know?” she asked.
“I can smell you, and I can also see that your panties are wet.”
She closed her eyes and groaned.
“I am your man, am I not?”
“You are?” She frowned, not knowing how to answer that. “Right?”
He chuckled, and then she gasped as the hand on her thigh moved between her legs. Edward stroked over her pussy, and for the first time, she felt … something different. She wasn’t Sophie’s older sister, or Isabel the failure, or the cutter, or the waitress. She was Isabel.
Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back as he pressed against her clit, making her cry out.
There was more to her than the cutting, than her sister, than everything else that had ever happened.
She was an entire person, and no one had ever wanted to know who she was. Only Edward. He was the only one that cared, who wanted to know, and wanted to be part of who she was. There was no one else in the world that she could ever be honest with. He was the only one she could talk to, be natural with. Edward was the only person she wanted.
Chapter Six
Edward had scented her arousal, and had known she was struggling to hide her need form him. He had been a little disappointed when she had initially lied, but then she had fought it, and told him the truth. The happiness he felt could never be taken away from him. They had made progress. It was small, but for him, it was real. They had finally moved forward.
Stranding up, he gripped the back of her neck and stared into her eyes. The woman that was in his arms right now, she was different from the woman he had chained up out of frustration. “Isabel,” he said, speaking her name.
Pressing his lips against hers, he relished the way her hands grabbed his shoulders, holding onto him. Her nails sank into his flesh as he continued to stroke her pussy through her panties.
She had never had a man between her thighs. This was all new. He’d checked his computer while she had been getting dressed. There were no recent porn searches. He had gotten off in the same chair imagining her watching those porn videos, and touching herself. He now kept a large box of tissues in his drawer for whenever the need arose to clean himself.
“Is it wrong for me to feel desire for her, Doc?”
“How do you mean?”