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I let out a shaky breath. “I’m broken, and I wanted you to fix me.”
Alarm widens his eyes. “I…still don’t understand.”
Not many people know about what happened to me. I mean, it’s not like I go around advertising that I was raped to everyone I meet. I have to trust someone implicitly in order to confess something so monumental.
If you told me a few weeks ago that I would be confiding in Garrett Graham about the most traumatic experience of my life, I would’ve peed my pants laughing.
And now here I am, doing just that.
“I lied to you at Beau’s party,” I admit.
His hand drops from my face, but his gaze stays locked on mine. “Okay…”
“I don’t know anyone who was drugged in high school.” My throat closes up. “I was the one who got drugged in high school.”
Garrett’s body goes rigid. “What?”
“When I was fifteen years old, a guy I went to school with drugged me.” I gulp down the acid coating my windpipe. “And then he raped me.”
A shocked breath hisses out of his mouth. Although he doesn’t say a word, I can clearly see the tense set of his jaw, the hot fury in his eyes.
“It was…it…well, shit, I’m sure you can imagine how awful it was.” I swallow again. “But… Please don’t feel sorry for me, okay? It was awful and terrifying and it destroyed me at the time, but I worked through it. I’m not scared of all men, or angry at the world, or any of that stuff.”
Garrett says nothing, but his expression is fiercer than I’ve ever seen it.
“I’ve put it behind me. I really have. But it broke something inside me, okay? I can’t…I can’t…you know.” My cheeks are so hot it feels like I’ve come down with sunstroke.
He finally speaks, his voice coming out low and tortured. “No, I don’t know.”
I’m already in this deep, so I force myself to clarify. “I can’t have an orgasm with a guy.”
Garrett gulps. “Oh.”
I press my lips together, trying hard to tamp down the embarrassment climbing up my throat. “I thought that maybe if you and me…if we…you know, fooled around a bit, I might be able to…I don’t know…reprogram my body to…um, respond.”
Oh God. The words are stuttering out before my brain can edit them, and my face goes up in flames as I realize how pitiful I sound. The realization that I’ve officially reached the rock bottom equivalent of sheer humiliation unleashes my tears.
As a strangled sob tears out of my mouth, I attempt a frantic scramble off Garrett’s lap, but his arms tighten around me, one hand tangling in my hair to bring my head closer. I bury my face in his neck, trembling wildly as tears slide down my cheeks in salty waves.
“Hey, come on, don’t cry,” he begs. “It breaks my fucking heart to hear you cry.”
But I can’t stop. I gulp for air and shudder in his arms, and he strokes my hair and makes rough, soothing noises that only make me cry harder.
“I’m broken.”
My voice is muffled against his neck, but I hear his voice loud and clear as he says, “You’re not broken, baby. I promise.”
“Then help me prove it,” I whisper. “Please.”
He gently pulls my head up. I meet his gaze and find nothing but raw emotion and shining sincerity.
“Okay,” he whispers back. Then he lets out a long, unsteady breath. “Okay. I will.”
23
GARRETT
Half the guys in the weight room are hungover as hell. I, surprisingly, am not one of them. Nope, this morning’s revelations pretty much zapped away any headache or queasiness I might have felt.
