Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Crap.
“Did I do something wrong?” I ask as I scramble off the couch.
God, I hope I didn’t do anything that made him uncomfortable. My heart squeezes, thinking I might’ve hurt him.
Ethan opens the fridge, taking out two bottles of water. Shaking his head, he says, “The opposite.”
When I step closer to him, he pulls out a kitchen chair and sits down.
Then it hits like a ten-pound hammer. Ethan’s turned on, and he’s trying to hide his arousal from me.
My feet freeze, and my gaze darts to the front door. Apprehension trickles into my veins, and my heartbeat speeds up.
“Breathe, Fin,” he murmurs, his tone soft.
I nod, taking a deep breath, my eyes still locked on the front door.
“You’re safe,” he gently reminds me, making the panic retreat a little.
Closing my eyes, I focus on my breathing until the rest of the panic fades away. I bring my gaze to Ethan, where he’s sitting with his forearms resting on the table, his eyes locked on me.
Instead of getting swept up by the kiss, Ethan pulled away when he got hard. He did what was best for me, not thinking of himself.
He didn’t just take what he wanted. He didn’t demand anything from me, even though I was the one who initiated the kiss.
“Better?” he asks, so much patience in his voice, it makes me relax.
“Yeah.” I wave a hand awkwardly in his general direction. “Sorry for making you… uhm… you know.”
He shakes his head. “Normal reaction when I have a hot girl kissing the living shit out of me.”
A smile jumps to my face. “You’re okay?” I ask, to be sure.
Ethan grins, making the flutters return to my stomach in full force. “I just had the best kiss of my life. I’m more than okay.”
Pride swells in my chest from hearing his words.
Yeah, the kiss was hot, and I wouldn’t mind doing it again.
Only with Ethan.
With all the control he’s giving me, every single hug and kiss, I feel stronger than before. It feels like he has the power to heal me, to fix what was broken.
I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop myself from looking at Ethan as if he’s the only hope I have of dealing with the attack.
ETHAN
I’m watching Finlay’s reaction closely, mentally filing away what makes her smile, what calms her, and what makes fear flare in her eyes.
Letting her have control of the kiss was easy, but having her devour me was pushing my self-control to the limits. I’ve never actually been conscious of growing hard around a girl.
Until today.
I was painfully aware of every swelling inch, knowing the second she noticed it might trigger her.
It’s only then I realized, where an erection is just a sign of arousal to other people, it means something totally different to Finlay.
It’s the tool that was used to hurt her.
What makes me a man, destroyed her.
We’re staring at each other, each dealing with our own thoughts, until I see the expression changing on Finlay’s face.
She sucks in a breath, her lips parting and all the fucking hope in the world darkening her eyes. Again she looks at me as if I’m the miracle she’s been praying for.
As if I have the power to make her pain go away.
Do I?
Is it even possible for her to heal from being raped?
A frown forms on my forehead as I realize there will never be a time I’ll be comfortable around Chelsea Chapel. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at her and not feel violated and disgusted.
But with Finlay, I’m just me, and I’m more than okay with her touching every part of my body.
But her trauma is different from mine.
“What’s wrong?” she whispers, still not moving from the spot near the front door.
Forcing the corner of my mouth to lift, I climb to my feet and hand her a bottle of water. “Let’s sit out on the porch.”
We get settled outside, and like always, I lift my legs and rest my feet on the railing. Reaching for the deck chair Finlay’s sitting on, I pull her closer until I can take hold of her hand.
My eyes drift over her face and seeing the worry, I say, “Nothing’s wrong.”
Finlay turns in the chair, pulling her knees to her chest. She leans her head against the back of the chair and starts to draw patterns on my hand, making my palm tingle.
“Is there anything I can do to help you heal?” I ask the question mulling in my mind.
Finlay shrugs, keeping her eyes on our hands. “It helped when you gave me control of the kiss.” She swallows then sucks in a slow breath. “You moving away and not just losing control also helped.”
“How?” I whisper.
Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips and drawing my eyes to them.
“It proved to me even though you can, you won’t hurt me.”