But now she leaves me with no choice.
Like a recovering heroin addict, I’ve been left in a room all alone with my drug of choice… and I’m gonna taste it a little.
Some men would have more willpower. Some would sit in the corner, close their eyes, and wait for the torment to end.
But not me, because Ienjoymy addiction.
I think she’s the most beautiful creature that ever graced this universe.
So each cry that echoes in my bathroom, each pump of the soap dispenser, I can hear her pain. And each sound, every sob that breaks through her chest, flies through the room and batters at mine.
Why, after almost thirty years of strength and willpower and solitude, have I found my kryptonite?
Was she sent here to destroy me, or to complete me?
Kicking off my shoes and pulling on a shirt, I move back to my front door and reset my locks.
They haven’t failed me yet.
I turn back to the bathroom and hesitate. A part of me says to stay away, to not go in, to not violate her privacy; but her cries draw me in despite it all.
Her privacy is important to me, but her pain trumps it.
Stepping into the steaming bathroom and glancing down at the floor, my heart gives a deep knock-knock at the sight of the broken woman that scrubs at her skin until it’s red and splotchy. The bandage over her stitches remains blood free, but the cover is soaked and in need of replacing.
I won’t even scold her for getting it wet.
“Jess?” I leave the bathroom door open, allowing the steam to escape, and step in. Grabbing my best towel – though still ratty – and moving closer to the small cubicle, I study the long hair sticking to her chest and neck.
You’d think the first time I saw her naked would turn me into a powerless animal set on attacking and claiming, but this broken woman, the tears in her innocent eyes, the wobble of her bottom lip, turns me into something else.
Someoneelse.
I’m a man with something to lose.
I don’t evenhaveit yet, but now I stand to lose it just as easily as that man lost his life tonight.
“Come on.” Flipping the taps off, I take her shaking hands and pull her to her feet. Chest to chest – Jess’ naked skin against my shirt – sex is the last thing on my mind as I wrap the towel around her body and tuck it in at her cleavage.
I look up and meet her gaze as she watches my movements. Her blonde hair – still light even when wet – sticks to her face, to her lips, to her bruised neck. I place a hand on the back of her head and pull her in until her arms automatically go around my waist and her face presses to my chest.
I bend closer and press the softest, gentlest kiss to the tiny silvered scar on her neck.
I’m not looking to take advantage, I don’t want her to think of me the way she thinks of Lance and that asshole tonight. I want to help, to soothe; to slow her racing heart.
I won’t touch when she doesn’t want to be touched.
I won’t say a single crude thing – even though that has been my defense since meeting her.
My plan was to be crude, scare her off or turn her on; either was fine with me.
But it’s not like that anymore.
“I won’t let you hurt again, Jess. I promise.” I hold her tighter. “You can trust me.”
She lets out a sob against my chest and strangles my heart just a little. Wrapping one arm around her back, I bend forward and scoop her up into the cradle of my arms.
She doesn’t freak out. She doesn’t react at all except to close her eyes and wrap her arms around my neck.