She trembled but forced herself to keep going, to spit it out like rotten food, as if she could expel it and it wouldn’t hurt her anymore. “He said he liked my fight, my spirit. He’s a sadist, I guess. Mostly, he liked my screams.” She squeezed her eyes closed as she recalled those screams. “I hate myself for making a sound. I told myself I wouldn’t, that I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, but the knife—” No other words would come out, and she didn’t understand why at first.
“That’s enough,” Bradley said and took the cup. Wetness covered her hands, and it took a moment to realize she’d shaken so hard the milk had spilled over the edge.
Her breath tore through her so rapidly she couldn’t draw in enough air to speak.
Warm arms came around her, and the familiar scent of the man she’d loved so long ago soothed her. He made a soft humming sound, a deep one she remembered falling asleep to in the past. She remembered how he’d used that sound to soothe his horses, the way even the flightiest of animals calmed from it.
He’d always called her his wild mare, had laughed at how the same tricks he used on the horses worked on her.
She squeezed her eyes closed tighter to ease the sting.
“You don’t need to say anything else,” he whispered against her hair, his hands strong, clutching her to his chest. “I didn’t mean to make you go through that again.”
She shook her head. “It’s over. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
He pulled away just far enough to stare at her, and she forced her eyes open when it seemed he wouldn’t speak until she did. “It matters. It matters to me and to all the other people who care about you. You don’t have to act like you’re all right.”
“I am all right.”
“You haven’t been as feisty as usual. The jokes you would have made, the little revenges for me being here, you haven’t done any of them.”
Which was true… She’d thought about it, considered the ways she could get back at Bradley, the way he’d frown at a prank and the tiniest lift at the corner of his lips that showed he wasn’t as annoyed as he let on. However, each time she considered one, this fear took her over.
“That man made you afraid, made you worry about what someone might do, didn’t he?”
She nodded before she could think better of it. That wasexactlywhat had happened. She couldn’t get the feeling of that knife out of her head.
“Thisused to be fun,” she said, knowing he could keep up without her having to spell it all out. “I’ve dealt with shitty men before, but never like this. I always trusted that I had control at the end, but Jerry taught me that isn’t true at all.”
Bradley shook his head and shifted around until his back was against the headboard and his legs stretched out in front of him. He gathered Kat up and pulled her closer, so her cheek pressed against his bare chest. The rise and fall as he breathed felt like a metronome to the conversation and helped calm her more.
“I can’t tell you there aren’t shitty people in the world, Kat. You know there are, and now you’ve been forced to get a personal lesson in it. The thing is, there have always been shitty people. Always will be. There are good people too, though, so you can’t let the bad ones take everything from you.”
Kat sighed, knowing this was dangerous. Maybe more dangerous than Jerry. Jerry could kill her, but Bradley had nearly destroyed her before.
He made a soft sound, and Kat lifted her gaze to his.
Except, he wasn’t looking at her, at least not her face. Instead, his gaze had locked onto her chest.
To the top two inches of the still healing wound.
It felt as if the injury reopened under his gaze, the first time anyone other than Fox or the medical staff had seen it. She reached for the sheet, wanting to cover it, to hide.
Bradley caught her hand before she could. “Don’t hide, Kat, not from me.”
“I hate it,” she whispered back.
“Doesn’t mean you should hide it. I’ve seen you at your worst, at times when you wish no one had, so don’t act like nothing happened, not with me.”
Kat sighed but stopped trying to cover it. Bradley had already seen, so what was the point?
He ran his fingers through hair, the touch gentle and familiar. From there, he went to stroking over her throat, the touch making her shiver.
How many times had she slept with Bradley in the past? Countless. Probably more than any other person in her life. He knew every inch of her, and she knew his body instinctually. It was so easy to fall prey to what had always been between them.
And why fucking not?
Kat twisted her head and pressed a kiss to his bare chest, to his warm skin that smelled like it always did—like leather and something masculine. How could it feel so much the same even after so long?