Page 121 of Juniper Unraveling

But there are new scars on his skin. Fresh ones that overlap the tiny white lines I’ve already seen. “Your scars …” I trace my fingers over them, taking in the twitch of his muscles that confesses he’s grown wary of touch.

As if he’s had enough, he snatches my hand, yanking it away from his body, but I catch the shaking of his hands. The tremors that vibrate past my skin, and his broken, rapid breathing. He’s worked himself up, and is trying like hell to restrain himself.

“You don’t trust my hands on you.”

“I don’t trust myself. It has nothing to do with your hands. Since you came back, it’s all I can think about.” He releases my hand and strokes his skull back and forth again. Eyes screwed shut, he curls his hands to tight fists at either side of his head, his massive arms seizing my attention. “Your hands on me.”

“Have you let anyone else touch you?”

His eyes darken, as he stares down at me, and just as it was when he was mute, I can’t read his thoughts. The return of his voice hasn’t changed the mystery of what’s buried inside his mind.

I only know that the broken boy still watches from behind his eyes. The one with bright blue eyes and horrific scars, who wakes to nightmares of pain and suffering, and fears touch. I want to cradle him in my arms, sing him lullabies and tell him I’ll never hurt him. But my heart has changed, too. It’s grown colder and more impenetrable, the hollow of it filled with more hate than love. As much as I want to believe I’m capable of pulling him out of those shadows, the truth is, I’ve been living in them myself, friending the demons of my own past. Taking from men in the same manner that they once took from me.

Except Six.

“If you don’t touch me, nothing ever will again,” I say, and glance up to see something new flicker in his expression.

Perhaps knowing. A kindred feeling. Or maybe it’s a cruel mocking of my pain.

Some of the darkness lifts, and he reaches out to me, hesitating for a moment, and thumbs the tear in my eye.

He pulls his hand from me, but I hold tight to his wrist. Our eyes battle in silence, while his muscles tighten, resisting my touch. Anger winds my determination, telling me he’s just being stubborn, but I know that’s not true. I can see it in his eyes that he wants to relieve himself of the monster that keeps others away. That he hasn’t truly been touched in a very long time because of it. I want to give him a moment of peace that he so desperately needs.

Even if my heart is just as dark and closed off, I want to steal away his pain and show him pleasure once more.

We remain in a standoff, neither one of us so much as blinking.

And he finally relents.

The tension slides out of him on a hiss between his clenched teeth, and he allows me to pull him in for a kiss. Victory swims through my veins, the tears streaming down my cheeks. He dips his head, and I feel his arms band around me, squeezing me. Tighter and tighter.

My body is hoisted up off the ground, and I hold onto him, letting him take me as he wants. A growl rumbles in his throat on a hearty groan, and I smile against his lips. This is my Six. The boy I loved, cloaked in the body of a man whose heart may have grown harder, but it’s still there. Beneath the layers of cold steel, it still beats for something.

He slips my thighs around his waist, mouth still pressed to mine, and together we fall, as he drops to his knees. The sweetness of berries and figs that I remember on his lips has given way to the smoky flavor of liquor. His taste may have changed a bit, but the effects of his kisses haven’t. My head spins in delight, and somewhere a girlish giggle echoes from memories past.

I didn’t realize how ruined I am, how little I received from the affections of other men. No one else has ever touched my soul this way, stolen a piece of me.

My heart reaches for the tiny bit I gave to him years ago, and as if it’s been dormant all this time, it beats again. The excited rhythm pounds against my ribs, stealing my breath.

Hooking his fingers beneath the hem of my shirt, he lifts the fabric over my head, his eyes feasting on my exposed breasts, as I lay before him.

His thumbs pass over them, stroking a wild pulse of arousal that hits hard between my thighs, where an ache throbs with the need to be touched there.

His hands are heaven, and his eyes are home. I tip my head back, lost to his caress, my memories filtering in like old photographs falling into my lap.

Something twists inside my stomach, and his caresses prod my muscles to bat them away. It tells me I don’t deserve such softness and reverence, and that I should make him stop.

I don’t, though. As persuasive as those thoughts are, I won’t allow them with Six.

“I lost feeling. The things they did …” The grooves in his forehead deepen as he stares down at me. “Damaged my nerves.” He raises his hand, flexing it in front of me, and goes back to his fondling of my nipple. “I remember your face when I touched you. Just like this. You showed me how to feel again. Most people, they cower beneath my hands. They fear me. But you? You beg me for this.”

I capture one of his wrists and hold it to my face, kissing his palm. “I loved your touch. I dreamed about it, years after I lost you.”

His thumb moves across my cheek and over my lips, as his eyes study me, simmering in the bluest flames.

“What they did to you can’t be undone. But let me help you forget, just for a little while.” Cupping both sides of his face, I draw his mouth to mine for a kiss that turns fervent and excited.

His hand slides back to my breast, palm gently passing over my sensitive peaks.