Page 25 of Stained Protector

I think I like him too. A defiant twist in my heart demands more, but I’m not ready to give in to the bursting emotions. It’s a word, four simple letters among twenty-six, but the meaning is stained with the remnants of past relationships.

Not mine, but I had a front-row seat to dumpster fires that gave me misery for years.

I want something out of a fairy tale, a story with happy endings, because life is bitter and annoying sometimes. We might get a satisfying ending one day, then life plows through with a commitment test for us. Maybe we’ll separate for weeks or months, but we’ll be together eventually.

Another chapter, good or bad, will follow soon. It's only a matter of time until the other shoe falls.

I’d rather have infuriating endings than a forever goodbye. One could say we’re incompatible if many things are going against us. I’d tell them to look at me as an example; Levi, who was an utter stranger at the time, did more for me than my family.

What help could they’ve offered? Emotional support, protection, or blame me for being unreasonable?

Levi believed me when he should’ve doubted. I had no proof that I was the victim of a crime.

I’ll tell my family after it passes, and that could be months away. I thought it was my fault for catching that despicable attacker’s attention, which I refuse to believe was on purpose.

Escalations, Detective Davis had explained at the hospital. Criminals escalate their crimes for gratification and not to get caught.

My mind was splitting from reality, too frightened to understand I had almost died. When Levi came in the middle of the night, the relief was unbearable as the desire to touch him yanked every inch of my body.

He held me as if he knew what I wanted without asking.

Maybe, just maybe, the wisp of love playing on the planes of his doting smile was not a figment of my imagination.

And it’s not because vicious hope is growing hysterically in my chest as the same smile stifles the strangling thoughts.

“I’m coming in,” he says, his voice a stern baritone.

Deep, velvety, and domineering. It’s the opposite of the frosted window in front of me.

As he steps into the guest bedroom, the room shrinks from Levi’s towering height. Everything about him is intimidatingly big, especially from my seated view as I tilt my face up.

He’s not wearing long sleeves to cover the intricate ink on his skin. The pattern is sophisticated, and the design flatters his artistic style—dark, mysterious, and utterly terrifying. He has the face I’d take home to my parents, and they’d adopt him as their son on the spot.

He has strong features, a body brimming with muscles and power, while those gorgeous blue eyes twinkle like the vast sky on a five o’clock morning. But once he starts smiling, hearts jump out of chests to become one with him.

A weapon of destruction to the swooning storm of flowery pink in everyone’s mind.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, slowly getting on one knee to not startle me.

I nip my bottom lip nervously, and his eyes darken as they stalk the glossy sheen after my tongue. The tempo below my ears drags down to my quivering stomach, but the journey doesn’t end there. It skips merrily between my thighs.

A drop of stickiness stains the center of my panties as a twitch forces my clit to scrape the wet cotton. He bought them when it wasn’t safe for me to leave his house, so my pussy is sitting on something he’s touched.

My thoughts are embarrassing.

“Fine,” I mumble, ducking my head to avoid his intense stare.

He hums, a tone of contemplation in his voice as he pushes away the curtain from my back. I shiver from the cold and feel exposed to his wandering eyes. I curl my toes on the hardwood floor, taking a swift interest in the dark swirls.

The other rooms in his home don’t have the same flooring as this one; they are cool-toned, whereas this one is warm-toned. It sticks out like a sore thumb, like he redesigned this bedroom well in advance.

Whatever the reason may be, I like it. I’ve always leaned toward warmer tones because I grew up in Minnesota, and winter there has a grudge against residents.

“You can’t avoid it forever, pretty.”

It’s not fair for him to call me that and not send mushy shivers up my back. The endearment tap-dances, distracting the fog of hesitation enough for it to admit defeat and crawl back to the dark corner of my mind.

Watching the beautiful view out the window from the second-floor bedroom is better than facing the elephant in the room. It’s far more convincing than a destructive talk.

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