Page 26 of Damaged

“Yes,” I responded simply. My nerves and the awkwardness over the whole situation and what would come next had me on edge. Despite what had happened moments earlier, I still owed this man free use of my body if I wanted the money he’d promised me. The idea of Dalton hauling me to my feet and pressing me over the table so he could shove himself inside of me had the backs of my eyes stinging. Ivan certainly wouldn’t have hesitated to fuck me despite the physical condition I was in. But he also wouldn’t have taken the time to wrap ice around my neck, especially since holding my throat as he pounded into me with loud grunts was one of his favorite things to do.

“Silver?”

My name coming from Dalton’s lips had me snapping my eyes open and lifting them. Dalton was sitting in the chair across the table from me, his eyes filled with shame and remorse. I wanted to tell him that I hadn’t been thinking about his unexpected attack, but I definitely wasn’t going to tell him what memory I had been caught up in.

The mere fact that Dalton was sitting across from me meant I was getting a reprieve, at least for the moment. The relief was so profound I let out a sharp breath. Along with it came another memory.

Dalton’s kiss.

The one from the day before.

My first kiss.

Ever.

“Silver?” Dalton repeated.

Damn, I really did need to focus on the present. “Yes?” I managed to get out.

“I need to know about your injuries,” he said, his voice sounding rough and hoarse, as if he’d been the one who’d had his air supply cut off.

“Injuries?” I asked stupidly. “Oh, you mean… I’m okay.” It was mostly true. I could breathe easier now and it didn’t hurt to speak as much as it had earlier.

“Silver—” Dalton began as he ran his fingers through his already rumpled hair. It looked soft but his beard had felt a little rougher when I’d touched his face. I hadn’t minded how it felt…

“I’m fine,” I said, cutting him off because I hated how broken he looked. He’d been in so much pain the previous day as we’d made the long drive to his house, but he’d still treated me with kindness and patience. And that kiss…

God, I needed to get control of myself. The man had just attacked me and here I was fantasizing about what it would feel like if he kissed me again. Yesterday I’d been adamant that the kiss had all been a ploy to get me into his car, but today my brain was conveniently forgetting that fact.

It didn’t matter. I needed to focus on the here and now.

“I shouldn’t have touched you when I tried to wake you up from your dream,” I said.

Dalton shook his head. “Silver, none of what happened is your fault?—”

“Did you mean to hurt me, Dalton?” I interjected. “If you got angry with me, would you…” I began to ask but realized I didn’t truly know the answer to that question since I’d only met the man twenty-four hours earlier.

“No,” Dalton responded quickly. “No, Silver, I would never raise my hand in anger to you or anyone else. It was like you said… I wasn’t seeing you.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him who he had been seeing, but I held my tongue when I saw Dalton begin rhythmically tapping one of his fingers on the table.

“Are you okay here for a few minutes while I get cleaned up?” Dalton asked. He was on his feet before I could even finish nodding.

Once he was gone, I worked to get the blanket untangled and rearranged it so that I was completely covered. The piece of bedding was worn from frequent use, but it was thick and warm.

And it smelled like him.

Just like the sweats he’d loaned me the day before that I was still wearing. I hadn’t even thought to get my wet clothes out of Dalton’s car the night before when we’d reached his place because Dalton had been shuffling toward the house within seconds of parking the car in front of it. Watching him move had made my own body ache. I’d ignored his rude response when I’d asked if he needed help getting up his stairs, and I’d continued to ignore all his protests as I’d gotten him in his bed. It wasn’t until Dalton had dumped the pills in his hand and swallowed them down that the first wave of true fear had hit me.

Ivan had done that… taken an unknown number of pills and swallowed them like they were candy. And like Dalton, he’d taken one drink after another from various bottles of alcohol that were always available to him. While that behavior had served me well as Ivan had gotten older, it hadn’t done me any favors when I’d been a kid since whatever drugs he’d taken had made him violent and cruel instead of docile and sleepy.

Despite seeing Dalton down the pills and liquor, I’d managed to continue to undress him, but it wasn’t until I’d seen the strange scars all over his back as I’d worked his shirt off him that I’d forgotten to be afraid. Some of the scars had been longer and more raised, others had been smaller. There had been at least seven of them along the length of his spine with another half dozen over his shoulders and along his ribs.

At that point, it had been easy to remember Dalton wasn’t Ivan.

So I’d focused on getting Dalton comfortable. I hadn’t planned to massage him but when I’d seen how tight the muscles of his upper body were as he’d tried to find a comfortable position to settle into as he waited for the pills to work, instinct had taken over.

Instinct and the confusing yet undeniable need to lessen the bigger man’s pain, even if only for a short time.

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