Page 33 of Taming Seraphine

Leroi’s hand is warm and large. Touching his bare skin muffles out the music and chatter and turmoil. I first noticed it when I first arrived in his apartment and he drew my hair off my brow. It’s like being encased in a cocoon during a storm, knowing nothing can break through and cause me harm.

Even when he’s cracking stupid jokes and hinting that I have multiple personalities, he makes me feel safe. It’s not just because he’s steady and strong, but because he fills a part of me that I thought I’d lost forever.

I didn’t realize how much calmer I felt with Leroi until he left me alone with that therapist. She kept asking me questions about my life, and I didn’t know how to react. Everything she asked triggered horrible memories. She wouldn’t shut up until my ears filled with excited male voices mingling with Mom’s screams. When she tried to touch me with that box of tissues, I needed her scream to drown out the ones in my head.

It also didn’t help that I noticed the way she smiled at Leroi, like she was angling to take him for herself.

He releases my hand, pulling back his warmth and letting in a rush of chaos.

I take a breath, my heart thudding so hard and fast that its vibrations reach my fingertips. I shouldn’t trust this stranger, yet there’s a part of me that wants to cling to him and never let go. I know to the marrow of my bones that he’s the only person who can pull every inch of me out of the basement.

Even if my instincts want to give him my trust, experience has taught me to stay alert. If Leroi betrays me, he’ll join all the other bastards in hell.

“Tell me why,” he says.

“Why what?”

“Why do you want orgasms?”

Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I lower my lashes. “I felt something earlier.” My tongue darts out to lick my lips. “When we were in your room.”

He leans so close that it takes every effort not to fidget. “Explain.”

“I really liked how you made me feel. That’s never happened before,” I say in a small voice.

He draws back. I don’t dare to meet his gaze for fear that I might see pity. From the way he talks, he thinks I might be afraid of men. I’m not. I just want to hurt them. If I can get pleasure from the only one I can stand, then that’s my business.

“Let’s start with something simple,” he says, his voice gentle.

My attention snaps to his face. “What are you thinking about?”

“I need to know your limits.”

“Limits?” I cock my head to the side.

“Your boundaries. What can you handle? What things are a hard no?”

Up close, his eyes aren’t so dark. They’re a rich cinnamon, ringed with the deepest umber and flecked with varying shades of walnut. Toasty and warm and edible. I’m torn between tasting him and losing myself in his gaze.

“Seraphine?”

I blink, my eyes shifting to his furrowed brows. “Yes?”

“Are you listening?” He repeats his question about boundaries.

“I don’t like shock collars. Or chips.”

His lips tighten. They’re back to looking cruel again, but I think his anger is directed at Dad and the twins. I raise my fingers to the band-aid behind my ear to check on my wound, which is now much less tender.

Leroi’s eyes track the movement, and he swallows.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, his words halting. “We can research different?—”

“If you’re about to say professionals, the answer is no.” I return my fingers to the straw. “You’re the only person I can trust.”

He knocks back his liquor and raises his glass to ask the waitress for another.

“Are you nervous?” I shift closer and lean into his side.

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