Page 105 of The Doll and The Domination

“You…” Think clearly, Marilynn. “You and I have similar backgrounds.”

“Oh?”

I pinch my thighs together. Stop looking at his crotch.

“Aurick’s father. He hurt me. He assaulted me. I didn’t get a say in what happened to my body.” I wish I could stop the fluttering in my lower belly. This topic is hard, serious. And it’s certainly not the time to get turned on.

Niles lifts his chin. “I’m so sorry, Marilynn.”

He’s touching me. He’s touching me. My vision lights up in a show of shooting stars.

“You know the feeling?”

He nods with tight lips.

The world roars around us in a blur, painting smudges of color in my periphery. Fire. Flesh. Clown faces. But it’s muted as I look up at him, descending into his kind eyes.

“I don’t want to make you feel obligated to touch me,” I say, making a strained noise. “Just, please ignore me while I”

Releasing a soft sigh, I rub a hand between my legs, graze my fingers over a nipple. The flush of warmth and the compulsion to stroke my sensitive skin are torture to ignore. It’s almost painful, like failing to scratch an itch that drives you completely mad after several moments of letting the tension build.

Niles’s eyes flash to my hands, watching them wander, watching them tease my breasts, my warm center.

“I don’t think I can ignore it,” he finally states without looking away from my hands.

That sentence, simple and straightforward, is like a deep, sensual massage over my entire body. I can’t tell if it’s the drug or just my own heart that yearns for him to say more things like that.

“But I thought you weren’t as affected by the drug as I am?” I’m squirming.

“I’m not.”

“You’re not,” I repeat.

“I’m affected by you.”

He plants those four words in my heart like seeds in a rose garden. They blossom in my chest, filling me with color and a floral aroma. That feeling of falling in my sleep makes my stomach dip.

“Oh.” It comes out as more of an exasperated breath than anything else.

He’s affected by me. Me. Marilynn. The woman who lived under the roof of the leader that ruined his life. The girl that still lives inside me, the small one that used to beg her mama for stories about Niles Offborth, the man full of love and a heart of gold.

Get a hold of yourself.

With slow, intentional movements, his hands slide up my neck to my cheeks. And those stormy, oceanic eyes are squared solely on me.

“Have I really been your hero?” he asks.

“Yes.”

Surprise washes forward like a morning ocean wave across his face. Even though he knew the answer, there’s that piece of him that lacks the confidence to believe it. A small slice of self-deprecating thoughts.

“I’ve never been a hero to anyone.”

He’ll never know how sad that makes my heart, withering like a rose without the sun.

Distance. Distance. Distance.

Niles leans forward, placing a kiss on my cheek, gentle and cautious. I nearly faint at his soft lips hovering over my jaw. His breath tickling my face still trapped between his hands. I, on the other hand, can’t breathe at all. My brain has commanded my body to stop functioning. To halt all progress. Every nerve ending puckers at his closeness.

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