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“I’m thinking that I wish we weren’t having this conversation because there’s no point.”
I don’t like her tone and I sure as fuck don’t like anything I’m hearing. “Why?” I demand.
Her eyes widen with disbelief. “Do I really need to spell it out?” When I don’t answer that, she spews a whole heap of shit at me that we’re going to need to spend time unpacking and putting back together in a better fucking way. “I freaked when you touched me, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to cope with a man touching me again. I’m damaged fucking goods and I’m sure you have better things to do than wait around for me to fix myself. So, to answer your question, I can’t imagine why you’re even bothering to take the time to come here and talk to me about it. You should be out there finding someone who does want you to touch them.”
Unable to stop myself, I slide along the couch to her. I don’t put my hands on her, but fuck I want to. “You are so far from damaged goods, you have no idea. As for me finding someone else, I don’t even notice other women anymore, Zara. The only woman I see is you, and I will wait for however long it takes for you to be okay with me touching you. You’ve made me want something I never thought I would. You’re beautiful and kind and caring, and I’m not walking away just because you need some time to work through what happened to you.”
There’s no going back from this now.
Zara has stolen my determination to honour my promise to King.
I don’t know what the future holds, but I need her to know I want mine to hold her.
Her eyes fill with tears, but they don’t fall. It’s like she’s trying to keep them in. Like she’s trying desperately to hold herself together. “I don’t want you to do that for me. It’s not fair to you,” she whispers, her voice twisted up with heartbreak.
“I’m not doing it for you,” I say, feeling every ounce of the intense need to make her understand that comes through in my voice. “I’m doing this for me.”
I’ve tried really fucking hard not to intrude on her personal space, to keep my hands off her, but when her tears fall, I can’t do it a second longer. I reach for her, placing my hand to the back of her head and pulling her to me.
Her arms go around me without hesitation and she doesn’t let go for a long few minutes. When she does, she says, “God, this is a mess. I don’t know how we’ll make this work. Everything feels different to me now.”
I cup her face. “Do you feel safe with me?” I’m hoping the fact she hasn’t flinched at either of my touches so far means she does.
She nods, again without hesitation. “Yes.”
“Well that’s a good starting place, and all we can do is go from here and take things slowly while you work with your psychologist.” King, on the other hand, is going to be a whole other story, but I don’t mention that to her yet.
Looking at me like she’s placing all her trust in the world with me, she says softly, “Okay.”
I want her. So fucking much the reality slams into me that if no had fallen from her lips, it would have ripped me apart.
Wanting desperately to kiss her and touch her in ways she can’t yet cope with, I move off the couch. I’m determined to give her whatever she needs while she’s on this journey, but fuck, it’s going to take every bit of restraint I have.
Frowning, she stands. “What just happened?”
“You just happened.” When her frown deepens, I elaborate. “I don’t think you’re aware of just how much I want you. That”—I point at the couch—“was me putting some space between us so I don’t do something that might trigger you.”
Her frown morphs into a small smile that tugs at my heart. “Thank you.” She then draws on her sassy side when her smile turns into a full-on grin. “And here I was thinking you struggled with the idea of being my friend when it turns out you actually wanna do things friends don’t do.”
I chuckle with a shake of my head. “The shit you come out with.”
“So,” she says slowly, like she’s planning on asking me something difficult, “Holly’s out, and I’m not sure what time she’ll be home. You wanna watch TV with me? Maybe sleep over?”
She has no idea how much I want that. “Yeah, but I’m not sitting through Friends again. If we’re gonna be together, you’re gonna have to find a new show. Or better still, you’re gonna give me the remote so I can choose the shit we watch.”
“Ah no, that’s not how I see this going.”
I arch a brow and cross my arms over my chest. “How do you see this going?”
“We can find a new show together, but if my man wants the remote, he’s gonna have to work for it.”
Her man.
Fuck that sounds good.
I jerk my chin at the kitchen. “You want me to work for it, I’m gonna need some cake.”
“And what if I don’t have any?”
