Page 29 of His to Hold

Though my feelings are driven largely by a primal instinct to imprint myself on every part of her body, I also want to take care of her. The need to protect this woman consumes me. If anything happened to Isabella, it would bring me to my knees. But I can’t tell her that, not until I’m sure she won’t use my weakness for her against me.

While Isabella leans against the wall and watches me, a hint of curiosity on her face, I run a bath. There’s a bottle of fragranced oil sitting on the edge of the tub, so I pour a generous amount into the warm water. I’m instantly hit by an overpowering scent of lavender. I know it’s supposed to be relaxing, but it’s not a fragrance I find soothing. It irritates my nostrils. This is for Isabella and not me, so I can put up with it.

When the tub is filled halfway, I turn off the taps and beckon Isabella over. She looks worn out. Taking the hand I offer her, she accepts my help to step into the tub. Her movements are tentative as she lowers herself into the water. I guess she’s feeling a little tender. That shouldn’t give me the satisfaction it does, but I can’t help the swell of pride in my chest at the thought of leaving a lasting impression on her body.

“Lean forward,” I tell her as she rests against the back of the tub.

Her eyes widen in surprise as I unbutton my shirt, intending to get into the water with her. As I strip off my shirt, her gaze goes to the scar on my shoulder and regret swamps her beautiful verdant eyes.

“What’s the matter, Bella? Can’t bear to see the consequences of your actions?”

I’m being a prick, but I can’t help myself. While I still have a lingering suspicion Isabella hasn’t shared the whole truth with me about that night, I won’t be able to put it behind me.

“No.”

She brings her knees up to her chest and rests her head on them. She looks so damned small and vulnerable I want to tell her all is forgiven. I resist the urge and get into the tub behind her.

“I hate that you were hurt,” she says quietly.

“Do you?”

“Of course I do. I swear I never intended for anything bad to happen that night.”

“I believe you, Bella.” I pull her back against me and she rests her head on my chest. “But I need to know if there’s something you haven’t told me.”

I feel her stiffen against me. She’s silent for several beats. Her chest rises and falls slowly, like she’s trying to steady her breathing. “There’s nothing to tell.”

Damn. I wasn’t sure before but now I’m certain she’s withholding something. If her awkward body language wasn’t a dead giveaway, the uncertainty in her voice would be. I don’t challenge her on it, though. The direct approach won’t work with Isabella. Even when I tied her to the bed and teased information out of her, she didn’t loosen up enough to tell me the entire story. I need her happy and content if I want to find out what she hasn’t yet revealed. There is something I need to know, however.

“What about the photos? What happened to them?”

“I don’t know.” A note of panic enters her voice. “Joey was supposed to give me the phone they were taken on.”

“They were taken on a phone? Whose phone?”

“A friend’s,” Isabella murmurs.

A prickle of unease runs through me. “What friend?”

“He was my boyfriend.”

Whoever the asshole is, he’s the root of the trouble Isabella and I have faced.

“I want a name, Isabella.”

When she hesitates a moment too long, I grab her chin and turn her to face me.

“Who was it, Bella?”

“John.” She averts her gaze, unable to look at me. “John Smith.”

The lie is so blatant, I can’t help laughing. “John Smith?” I squeeze her cheeks until her eyes return to mine. “Try again.”

“I don’t know.” Her voice raises an octave, telling me the topic is distressing her. “He never told me his real name.”

“But you said he was your boyfriend.”

“I lied.” Tears fill her eyes. “I didn’t want you to think badly of me, letting a stranger take pictures of me like that.”

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