Page 39 of Bombshell

“I didn’t mean to. I was dealing, internally. It happened,” I explained, then turned around so he couldn’t see my face or the damage I had done to my thigh. “Just leave me alone. Please. I just want to be alone.” So I could curl up and cry without an audience.

I heard his footsteps on the hardwood floor, but he wasn’t leaving. I closed my eyes just as his hands wrapped around my upper arms.

“I don’t want to leave. I want to be here. With you.”

No, no, no. He would not do this to me. I couldn’t ride the roller coaster of emotions that Micah Abe could send me spiraling on and come out intact.

“You made it very clear you didn’t want me.”

His grip on my arms tightened. “You think my leaving was not wanting you?” He let out a sigh. “Tink, that was the opposite. That was me saving you from me. You deserve better.”

Of course he’d make himself out to be the hero. Soften the blow so I wouldn’t hate him. Micah was an expert at manipulating women and men alike.

“I’m sure that was the reason you stared at me as if I were a freak of nature, then bolted from the room,” I replied and tried to free myself from his grasp. My attempt was done in vain.

Micah pulled me back against his chest with ease, as if I hadn’t been pulling in the opposite direction. “Nothing,” he whispered, his mouth close to my ear, “about you is a freak of nature.” His right hand slid up and over my shoulder, then brushed my hair back. His thumb began to caress my neck in a small, circular movement. “You’re beautiful, sweet, thoughtful, kind, charming. I can’t think of a man that is good enough for you. That deserves to have the privilege to touch you.” His lips pressed against my temple. “I sure as fuck don’t. But I want to. So bad that it’s eating me alive inside. The smell of you on my fingers is driving me crazy. I’ve almost sucked your taste completely off, trying to get more of it.”

My body rebelled against my brain as it trembled and seemed to melt back against his hard chest. His words held power over my good sense.

“Sit down on the bed and let me get something to clean up your leg. I don’t like seeing you hurt,” he said as his hands moved to my waist, and he moved me forward until I had no choice but to turn and sit down, like he had instructed.

My eyes slowly traveled up his jean-clad thighs and stopped at the bulge in his crotch. Surprised, I snapped my eyes up to his face. I felt my own cheeks heating as a devilish grin tugged at his lips.

“Stay here,” he said simply, then made his way to the bathroom door that stood open on the other side of his room.

When he was out of sight, I dropped my focus to my thigh.

The marks from my nails were clearly visible, even with the smeared blood surrounding them. Shame began to unfurl in my chest. It had been years since I had taken a knife to myself. Once, it had been a need so strong that I couldn’t control it. Memories of locking myself in the attic with my dad’s pocketknife haunted me.

“Tell me why.” Micah’s urge wasn’t harsh, but it felt as if it was a demand. He knelt down in front of me again and took a damp cloth to wipe away the blood. He looked up at me once he had it clean. “Your nails?”

I nodded, but as to telling him the why, I wasn’t ready for that yet. The why was a part of my past that only Pepper knew about.

He ran the pad of his thumb just under the broken flesh. I wanted to cover it up, hide it. Especially from him. It revealed too much. More than I was capable of sharing. Micah wasn’t someone that others ignored. He always got what he wanted. But this wasn’t something I could give him. The reason why was mine. It had to stay there, locked away. I feared talking about it would bring it back. The dark draw to cause pain that had once held me.

“This might sting a little,” he warned me as he took the antibiotic ointment and squeezed some on his fingertip, then coated the marks I’d left.

The coating didn’t hurt, but there was a warm tingling with it that I couldn’t be sure was the cream or just my body’s reaction to Micah’s touch.

He cleaned the excess from his finger, then opened a bandage and placed it over my wounds. He took my hand and found the blood under my fingernails, then cleaned it with the cloth. Once he was done, I expected him to stand up, but instead, he bent his head and kissed right below the bandage, then lifted his gaze to mine.

“Never hurt any part of this beautiful body again,” he told me with a fierceness in his expression. “If you need to hurt something, then hurt me. Not you. Never you.”

I’d never hurt another person in my life, but his request—or rather demand—felt as if he had managed to reach inside me where I was the most damaged and soothe it, the way he had my visible marks. My head knew that allowing Micah to have any hold on me was asking for future agony, but the rest of me wanted nothing more but to beg him to hold me. Even if for a moment. It was foolish, but he made me feel safe. I’d had very little of that in my life.

“These heels you wear are sexy as hell, but they can’t be comfortable.” His tone was softer, slightly teasing. He slipped my shoes off my feet and ran his hand over them, massaging the ache before letting them go.

When he began to stand back up, I knew it was over. I’d be alone again, and the torment of the past would seep in. I’d handle it the best way I could and hope that my will was stronger than my urge.

He nodded his head toward the other end of the bed. “Get up there and lie down. I swear the sheets are clean. No one has been in them but me.”

Sinking into his scent might be the worst idea for my current mental state, but I wanted it. If I had to be left with my demons to battle, then at least I could pull the covers over me and soak in where his body had been. I was done arguing or trying to save myself from the future misery this would bring me. I scooted back and pulled down the blankets to slide underneath. The soft warmth gave me little comfort, but it was better than nothing.

Micah bent down and began to unlace his boots. I watched him in silence, unsure what to make of it. When he stood back up and made his way over to the bed, hope slowly began to unfurl inside my chest. He pulled back the covers, and still wearing his jeans, he slid in beside me.

“Roll over,” he said in a husky whisper.

I was facing him, and I wanted to keep looking at him, but I did as he had asked. Once I was turned, his arm came around me, and he pulled me back until I was pressed against his chest.

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