Page 63 of First Time

He kissed my forehead, a heavy exhale emptying his lungs. “Then don’t hold back—I promise I won’t go anywhere. I’ll stay here and hold you for as long as you need.”

“Will you allow the cops to deal with him?”

“Yes,” he didn’t hesitate to answer. “I got lucky once dishing out justice—I’m not about to tempt fate and remove myself from a future I have high hopes for.”

Peace and yet excitement slid over me like a warm breeze.

“I never should have agreed to speak with him,” I started. “But I’d been feeling confident from finally taking a stand for myself. Perhaps I thought confronting Stephen and sharing the truth for a change wouldn’t be as difficult as I’d always imagined. I’d been nervous and shaky but we needed closure.

“He seemed contrite, and I expected his usual apologies, promises to never do shit like that again, etc. I made an even graver mistake by agreeing to get out of the cold and sit in his car. I told him I was leaving, and he punched me, the whiplash crashing the back of my head against his passenger window.”

Daniel lay silent while I spoke, unloading every memory, every hazy thing I could remember of what had happened. Being restrained. Cursed out. Beaten until unconsciousness had claimed me more times than I’d been able to count.

Stephen had never abused me to the point of blacking out. He’d never drawn blood out of anger. I couldn’t remember a time when I recognized he saw me merely as property—not a human being. He’d given me all he had, and his full strength had left me battered and bruised.

My relationship with Stephen was well and truly over. I’d considered that truth two nights earlier while Daniel had loved me, but the truth now lay like a granite slab deep in my heart.

Daniel Cooney was the man I wanted, both body and soul.

A therapist would probably have a shit ton to say about my latching onto my new Sir without question or more caution, but I knew deep inside that we had been meant to meet that night in my cousin’s club.

I would have to get in touch with Chantelle even though Daniel informed me he’d kept her up to date on what had happened.

But she could wait along with the rest of the world.

Daniel continued to hold me long after I fell silent. Tension radiated off him, but he didn’t leave my side, nor did his strong hands stop caressing me. Eventually, he relaxed, and we lay silent.

It would be days before I felt well enough to go back to work—

“Shit,” I muttered, attempting to pull away from Daniel.

“What?”

“I have to call my boss—”

“I already took care of it,” he murmured, shifting me so I rested on my back. He propped up on an elbow, dark eyes scanning my features.

“How bad is it?” I whispered, watching the war of anger and empathy take place across the battlefield of his face.

“Bad enough that any woman experiencing domestic abuse would see you and reconsider returning to the men who claim to love them.”

I frowned hard and winced. “Every inch of me aches,” I muttered, “and don’t let me see a mirror, please. The last thing I need is another reminder of what that asshole did to me.”

“No mirrors. Got it.” Daniel leaned down and brushed his lips over mine. “But how about coffee? Maybe some food?”

My stomach growled loudly in agreement, causing us both to smile. “I think I can manage to get up—”

“Nope.” Daniel pressed a hand to my chest, keeping me still. “Today is a breakfast-in-bed kind of day.”

Tears stung my eyes. “I-I’ve never been served like that before.”

“Best get used to it, sweetness,” he stated, rolling away from me to climb off his bed. “Because I’m going to spoil you rotten.”

“I’m going to gain another fifty pounds,” I muttered, having heard all about his enjoyment of cooking the night we’d cuddled after sex and talked long into the morning hours.

“Just more for me to love on,” Daniel said.

I snorted but didn’t disagree. I kind of liked the idea of my man loving every inch of me—fluff and all.

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