“You don’t have to, really. I just want to sleep.” I may as well be talking to myself for all the good it does. He stretches out near the foot of the bed and parts my thighs, working the nightshirt up to my hips. Now I know why he didn’t bother bringing in panties. Was he already planning on this? What does it matter? My body is not really my own anymore, anyway.
The first touch of his tongue against my swollen, abused flesh makes me flinch, but all he does is stroke my legs and plant gentle kisses against my thighs, my mound. When he tries again to probe deeper, it feels better. Nicer. After a minute or two, I can’t help moaning a little. This isn’t like before, downstairs. He’s not doing this just because somebody told him to. It’s almost like he wants to do it, like he likes it. And every time I moan, it seems to please him, and he repeats whatever it was he just did to make me have that reaction. I would almost think it’s sweet if it were anybody else doing it.
Before long, that doesn’t matter, either. Nothing matters except the delicious heat now building, growing, and spreading from deep in my core until I’d swear I was on fire. My nerves sizzle and my back arches, my legs closing around his head until finally, it’s all too much. I can’t hold back. I don’t want to.
Still, I bite down on my fist to stifle my pleasure. I don’t want James to hear. I don’t want him to know. By the time the delicious aftershocks fade away, the guilt and shame wash over me like a tidal wave. How can I come after what they did to me? How can I let Nix—someone who has caused me so much pain—make me feel good? I feel like a failure. A failure to myself and all other women out there.
A sob rips from my throat, then another, and before I know it, I’m full-on hysterically crying. My whole body is shaking, my vision so blurry I might as well be blind.
“Fuck. I didn’t mean to…” Nix sounds like he is seriously shocked. Well, that makes two of us. “What’s wrong?” I bury my face in my palms, but Nix grabs my wrists and pulls them away. “What the hell is wrong? Why are you crying?”
“Why? Don’t you realize what a mind fuck this is? You are the one who hurt me. You used me, humiliated, and discarded me. And now you want to come in here and make me feel good because ‘I deserve it’? What the fuck am I supposed to make of this?”
When I blink my tears away enough to make out his facial expression, he stares at me dumbfounded as if he seriously doesn’t understand why I’m acting this way. “I did this to make you feel better.”
“This is the last thing I wanted. Why in the world would you think this would make me feel better?”
Nix pushes himself up on his palms before running his hands through his short hair. “Because this is all I know, Leni. I guess I don’t actually know how to make anyone feel better.”
If my heart wasn’t already broken, it would be now. Only Nix has the ability to make me go from feeling one thing to feeling something completely different in a split second, and this is a prime example. One instant, I’m angry, wanting nothing more than to shove him away, and the next, I want to hold and protect him from the world. It makes no sense, but I feel for him. I feel sad that he didn’t grow up in a loving home.
“Thank you for trying.”
“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”
“Promise me you won’t let him touch me.” It’s the first thing that comes to my mind since I know the thing I really want he can’t give me. “That, and that I can leave after tomorrow.”
“I promise.” He holds out his pinky. I stare at it for a moment, thinking he is joking, but when he keeps his hand stretched out toward me, I raise my own.
“Pinky promise?” I hook my pinky into his.
“Yes.” He offers a faint smile before letting go of my finger and getting off the bed. He covers me up again, pulling the blanket up to my chin. “Good night,” he murmurs before leaving the room and closing the door gently behind him.
I didn’t grow up in the perfect home myself, but at least there was love and compassion in my house. The longer I’m here, the more certain I am that Nix and Colt never got that.
CHAPTER32
“What’s the matter?”
I open my eyes, which I didn’t bother doing when the bedroom door opened a moment ago. Colt stands in the doorway, frowning at me. Like my being in bed inconveniences him somehow.
“I don’t feel well.” Please, let him leave it at that.
No. On second thought, he needs to know. For the first time in my whole life, I was glad when the cramps started this morning.
He rolls his eyes. “Come on. You know that excuse isn’t going to work.”
“It’s not an excuse.”
“What’s wrong with you, then? Are you running a fever? Because you know, he’s going to want proof—”
“I have my period, genius. I got it this morning. And if James wants proof, he can be my guest.” Uh, maybe I shouldn’t have said that. He’s just gross enough to want to examine me while I’m bleeding.
At least I have the satisfaction of watching Colt fall back a step. “Oh. I guess we didn’t think about that.”
“Of course not. You don’t have to. You’re a man.” I close my eyes and wince as a cramp takes hold. “You don’t have to go through this once a month.”
He moves closer to the bed, and I could almost laugh if I didn’t feel so miserable. It’s like he’s afraid of me somehow. Like he’s approaching an animal he’s never come close to before. All I had to do was mention my period.