Page 112 of No Regrets

“I promise.” It was barely more than a whisper.

Whatever happened after this, he’d just have to deal with it. He couldn’t walk away now, even if he wanted to. It would kill her.

He lowered his mouth and kissed her gently, tracing her lips with his tongue. His heart raced. Their bodies crushed against each other. She gasped when he trailed soft kisses down the side of her neck and over her throat. Damn. Her skin was so soft, her taste, her smell so familiar, so right. Somewhere in his head, his conscience told him to take this slow, but his cock had other ideas. He was so damn hard, it hurt. Fuck. Refocusing, he grabbed the bottom of her shirt and slowly lifted it. Her body stiffened and he stopped, watching her closely.

“It’s just that... I’m not the same. There’s—”

He cut her off, letting go of the shirt and gathering her tighter against him. The scars... She was worried about him seeing her scars.

“You are the same gorgeous, sensual woman you’ve always been.” He kissed the top of her head. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” she whispered without any hesitation.

“Then let me show you how beautiful you are.” He loosened his grip to look at her. She nodded and he brushed his lips softly against hers. Slowing the pace right down, he listened to his conscience. Her hands gripped his and guided them back down to the hem of her shirt. He raised it, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over her head. Shifting his weight, he laid her back on the bed, his body covering hers. The warmth of her skin sent sparks straight to his groin. Resting his weight on his forearms, he took her mouth in another slow, gentle kiss. Her body arched up against him and her breasts rubbed against his T-shirt. A frustrated sound escaped her.

He sat up quickly, ripping his T-shirt over his head, careful not to dislodge the bandages on his arm. When their mouths met again, the soft mounds of her breasts touched his bare skin. She broke the kiss, letting out a soft moan that made him smile against her cheek. Nuzzling her neck, he breathed in her scent, that womanly, heavenly scent that was all Kelly. All his. He trailed gentle kisses down her neck, down over her chest, and over a small scar. He kissed it gently, suppressing his anger at what she’d endured. He kissed his way to the top of her breasts. The tips reached out to him, begging to be touched. Her little whimpers of impatience pulsated in the room. He didn’t make her wait. Not today.

Taking one soft mound in his mouth, his tongue flicked over the nipple. Kelly groaned out loud and gripped the sheet, hanging on tightly as her body trembled and squirmed beneath his touch. God, he’d missed her. Missed feeling her, hearing her, tasting her. Switching to the other breast, he lavished it with the same attention. He linked his hands with hers, entwining their fingers. He kissed and licked around the perfect brown bud, exploring and rediscovering every inch. As his tongue traced the underside of her breast, he felt the hardened skin of a larger scar. His jaw tightened. Forcing it from his mind, he raised his eyes to look at her as his tongue licked over the scar. This wasn’t the time for anger. Those moist, big brown eyes watched him. The trust she was giving him caused his heart to constrict. Needing to touch her but not wanting to let go of her hands, he raised their entwined fingers above her head, then he put both her hands in one of his, freeing one of his hands to explore.

Immediately he realized something was wrong. Very wrong. Her whole body froze beneath him.

“Kelly, what is it? Talk to me.” She was trying to move away from him. He rolled off and she pulled the sheet up covering herself. The look of sheer panic on her face startling him.

“Kelly, talk to me, sweetheart.”

“It just brought back...” Tears rolled down her cheeks breaking his heart. “My hands were tied above my head... I...”

Oh shit.

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.” What a fucking asshole to even think about pinning her hands down. “What can I do? Tell me.”

She shook her head, curling up into a ball.

He’d been scared of screwing up and, fuck, he’d done it royally.

“Kelly, I’m here. You can talk to me.”

She didn’t respond, curling tighter, turning away to face the window.

“Baby, please, let me help you.” The fetal position she was in was exactly how he’d found her in that dirty room, the image flooding his brain.

“Do you want me to go?” He stood and pulled on his clothes. Fuck, he was so far out of his depth here.

“Don’t.” She shook her head, her voice soft. “Don’t leave.”

He didn’t move, unsure what to say or do.

“I don’t want to push you away. I can’t lose you, Dex.” The last words caught on a sob.

Ah hell. He sat on the edge of the bed.

“You’re not going to lose me. I’m right here, not going anywhere.” And he wasn’t. He was hers, even if it scared the hell out of him. "I shouldn’t have held your hands like that. I had no idea.” Guilt was kicking his ass.

“How could you? We haven't exactly talked about it.” She whispered, still curled in a ball, eyes closed.

“Yeah, but I should have known better.”

“I want to be with you so badly. It was so good, but then his face and God, Dex...”

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