She looked down between us, and I realized she had her wrists out. There were red marks on them, and I knew she would bruise, just like she would on her cheek.
“I’m going to kill him.”
“Don’t. They’re going to catch whoever it is, and then they’ll deal with it. You don’t have to, Amos.”
I cupped her unharmed cheek and set the washcloth beside her. “I’m always going to worry about you, Naomi.”
When she moved her hands, I froze, letting her decide what was going to happen. Letting her decide because I hadn’t before.
She slid her hands through my hair, and then over my beard, as if studying me for the first time.
I swallowed hard. She smiled softly and I leaned down, doing the one thing I shouldn’t.
I brushed my lips against hers, and she sighed into me.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I whispered.
“Just, kiss me? I just want you to kiss me. And to touch me. Where it’s not him.”
I understood that clear as day. Because I didn’t want to think about that man touching her either. So I kissed her.
My hand slid down her shoulder, over her arm, down to her wrist. When my thumb slid across the delicate skin there, she didn’t flinch. Instead, she pulled back slightly and met my gaze.
“I’m not fragile, Amos.”
“You sure as fuck feel breakable to me. You’re so small. So tiny in my arms.”
“And you were there. Thank you. I’m sorry I didn’t say that before.” She frowned before I could say anything and started pulling at my shirt.
“What is it? What do you want, baby?” I asked, her motions frantic.
“I need to see. Where he hurt you.”
“Okay. I’ll help.” I used my free hand to pull my shirt over my head and tossed it to the side.
“See? I’m just going to have a bruise on my side. It’s just a bruise. He didn’t hurt me. It was more startling than painful.”
“He could have hurt you more. He could have hurt you so much. And you were just there to protect me.”
“And I’ll be there, Naomi. I don’t regret that for an instant.”
“He hurt you.”
I cursed under my breath, and then I took her mouth again, needing her taste, her touch. Her hands slid up my chest, her nails digging into my skin until she wrapped her arms around my waist, bringing me closer. I was cradled between her legs, her ass on the edge of the kitchen counter.
“Take me to your room?”
Her voice was so soft, and I knew she was being gentle for me. Because she was so damn afraid. But hell, I was just as afraid.
So I didn’t let myself think. I didn’t let either one of us speak. I just lifted her into my arms and carried her away.
“I’ve got you.”
This movement was similar to before, so fucking familiar. Because I had held her like this. I had touched her and needed her, and then the two of us had made love on every inch of this apartment. But had I called it that before? Had I told her anything? No. I had let my emotions and my actions be enough. Only that was never the case.
You could pretend it was, but it wasn’t. Not when you were breaking deep inside and the other person couldn’t read your fucking thoughts.
I needed to be better. Needed to tell her what I was thinking. Even if I had no idea what that was.