Page 62 of Pose for Me

River's eyes darken, a storm of fury brewing in their depths. His hand tightens on my cheek, not painfully, but with a fierce protectiveness that makes my heart clench.

"When he made those comments to my mother," I continue, my voice barely above a whisper, "something in her just... snapped. It was like watching a switch flip. One moment, she was the same quiet, submissive woman I'd always known. The next, she was a raging inferno of maternal fury."

I close my eyes, the memories flooding back with vivid clarity. "She lunged at him, her hands clawing at his face, her screams of rage echoing through our tiny house. For a moment, I thought she might actually overpower him. She was so fast, so fierce in her determination to protect me."

"She managed to grab a kitchen knife," I say, my voice trembling. "I remember the way the blade glinted in the harsh light of our kitchen. She stabbed at him wildly, her eyes wide and feral. But he was bigger, stronger. He caught her wrist, simply ripping the knife from her hand."

I swallow hard, the taste of fear and desperation still bitter on my tongue after all these years. "There was so much blood. It seemed to be everywhere—splattered on the walls, pooling on the linoleum floor, soaking into my mother's floral dress. The metallic scent of it filled the air, so thick I could taste it on my tongue.”

"I was only twelve," I whisper, my voice cracking with emotion. "But somehow, in that moment of chaos and terror, I found the strength to run. I bolted from that house, my lungs burning as I screamed for help."

I can still feel the rough asphalt beneath my feet, the way the cold night air stung my tear-streaked cheeks. The memory is so vivid, it's as if I'm reliving it all over again.

"I ended up collapsing on a neighbor's porch. I remember the porch light flickering on and the door opening, and then I looked up to see our elderly neighbor, Mrs. Jameson, looking shocked and concerned."

River's hand moves to my hair, gently stroking the long, dark strands. The soothing motion grounds me, helping me continue through the painful recollection.

"Everything after that is a blur of flashing lights and stern faces. Police cars and ambulances everywhere. Neighbors whispering… The trial was a nightmare," I continue, my voice barely above a whisper. "I had to testify, to recount every horrific detail in front of a room full of strangers. My father's eyes bore into me the entire time, cold and unfeeling. But I refused to let him break me. I spoke clearly, my voice steady even as tears streamed down my face."

River's hand continues its soothing motion through my hair.

"In the end, justice prevailed. My father was sent to prison. But the victory felt hollow. My mother was gone, and I was alone in the world."

I take a shaky breath, steeling myself to continue. "I was placed in foster care. I was angry too, but I was withdrawn. I pushed away anyone who tried to get close. But then, a few months after entering the system, I met Knox. We gravitated towards each other, two broken souls finding solace in each other's company."

I close my eyes, remembering those precious few months. "For the first time since losing my mother, I felt safe. Knox became my protector, my confidant. We'd spend hours talking, sharing our dreams and fears. He promised me that one day, we'd leave the system behind and make a life for ourselves."

A wistful smile tugs at my lips. "We even made a pact, swearing that we'd be together forever. It was childish, perhaps, but it felt so real, so important at the time."

My voice catches as I continue, "But then, a few months later, he was gone. I woke up one morning, and his bed was empty. No note, no goodbye. He'd just... vanished."

I blink back tears, the old pain still raw after all these years. "I was devastated. It felt like losing my mother all over again. I withdrew even further, building walls around my heart that I thought were impenetrable."

River's eyes soften as he takes in my vulnerable state. Without a word, he reaches up and gently undoes the handcuffs from around my wrists. The metal clinks softly as it releases, and I feel the blood rushing back into my arms. River's fingers trace delicately over the faint red marks left behind, his touch soothing and tender.

He brings each wrist to his lips, pressing soft kisses against the sensitive skin. His tongue darts out, tracing lazy circles that send shivers down my spine. I watch, mesmerized, as he lavishes attention on my wrists, erasing any lingering discomfort with his ministrations.

When he's satisfied, River tucks the handcuffs away in his pocket. Then, in one fluid motion, he scoops me up into his arms. I let out a small gasp of surprise, my arms instinctively wrapping around his neck for balance. He cradles me against his chest, my head tucked under his chin. I can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat, strong and reassuring.

With careful movements, River crawls onto the bed, still holding me close. He settles us both down onto the plush mattress, arranging our bodies so that he's curled protectively around me. His chest presses against my back, one arm draped over my waist, our legs tangled together.

I shift slightly, aware of the work still waiting for me. "River, I should really get back to editing. I have deadlines to meet and-"

"Shhh," River murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. "Let's just take a moment."

His arm tightens around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest. I can feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the solid warmth of his body enveloping me. The tension slowly begins to seep out of my muscles as I sink into his embrace.

River's fingers trace lazy patterns on my hip, the touch soothing and grounding. The late afternoon sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the room.

I relax, letting the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his breathing soothe me. The tension from reliving those painful memories slowly ebbs away, replaced by a sense of comfort and safety I haven't felt in years.

Chapter 37

Rayne

I'mnotsurehowlong we lay there, River's body a warm cocoon around mine. Time seems to stretch and blur, measured only by the steady rise and fall of his chest against my back. River's hand moves to my hair, his fingers gently combing through the long, dark strands. The repetitive motion is soothing, almost hypnotic. I find myself drifting in a hazy state between wakefulness and sleep, lulled by the comforting sensations.

His fingers work through any small tangles they encounter with surprising gentleness, carefully teasing apart the strands without causing discomfort. It's clear he has some sort of fascination with hair, and I'm certainly not complaining. The attention is both relaxing and oddly intimate, making me feel cherished.

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