“I-I wa-” she begins before steadying herself. “I want to know what happened to my father.”
This is not what I expected her to say, but I remain still, face rigid. I can’t let her know I have the answers she desires.
In a silent battle of wills, neither of us moves. Waiting for the other person to give in. I would have won that fight had it not been for a painful twinge from my pleading cock to fucking finish the job already.
A slight shift of my legs causes the fabric of my pants to lightly tickle my shaft as I fold my arms across my chest. It’s the only concession I’ll give her tonight.
“No,” I answer emphatically.
She folds her arms in irritation at my denial.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know anything about it, that’s why.”
“You’re lying.” She’s right. But even if I wanted to tell her everything, I can't. For her own safety. “I’m not stupid, you know. I tell you … what I told you … and my dad just happens to move out that very night?”
I shrug. “Guess so...?”
I notice the pain my aloofness inflicts just before she closes her eyes, shutting me out of her misery. The last thing I wish to cause her is hurt. On the contrary. Knowing all she’s been through and now adding to that causes my chest to tighten with sadness. With compassion for the woman in front of me. When her eyes shoot open again, I shift my expression back toward indifference, but I don’t think I get very far.
“Royce, you don’t understand. I need to know if I can stop looking over my shoulder... That I no longer have to worry he’s going to climb through my window and under my covers... I—”
I can’t let her finish that sentence. So I say the only thing I can think of that may pacify her but keep her safe from knowing her father’s true fate.
“You don’t.”
“But how do you know that? I need reassurance. I wasn’t born yesterday, Royce. I know some of the things you’ve done in the past. I know what you’re capable of.”
Goddamn it, woman. Would you take what I’ve given you and be satisfied already?
“Because I’m telling you, you don’t.”
“The words.”
The agony of her needing closure is more than I can take. As she wrings her hands together, I remember what it felt like when mine were around her father’s neck. How good it felt to put a stop to his terror-filled reign over her.
She steps toward me with fight in her eyes. Not directed at me but within herself to keep it together. To stand her ground and pry the answers she so desperately needs from me.
Shit.
I’m losing the battle between keeping her safe from the truth and wanting to give her peace of mind. The moment I lick my lips, preparing to speak the truth after years of keeping it hidden from her, she braces herself.
Taking her chin in a firm hold, I relent.
“I took care of him, kitten.” The nickname I never meant to utter aloud flows smoothly from my tongue as though I’ve said it a million times before. As though it’s already been imprinted on both of our souls. “He will never touch you again.”
No man will ever touch you again.
I know the moment she catches my unspoken declaration because her breathing increases as she pants with relief. Relief that quickens with lust until it turns into a manic energy that is a danger to us both. Something each of us hungers for but neither of us should ever taste.
My eyes drift to her cleavage as her luscious tits rise and fall with each sharp breath she takes, and my tongue traces my bottom lip. After admiring her from afar all evening, my fingers itch with the desire to caress them. To feel their heavy weight in my palms.
I’m tired of denying myself.
Just as I’m about to give in, she reaches up, her arms encircling my neck. It throws me off guard, but not as much as when she places her lips to mine.
Opening her mouth, she licks my bottom lip, coating the same area my own tongue just touched. Surrendering, I open my mouth to accept the gift of her taste.
It’s pure heaven. Only a sampling of what I’ve craved most in my entire life, but it’s more powerful than anything I’ve ever felt before.
