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Then he’d put on his pants and left.
I was worried Osian would do the same. And my heart couldn’t take that.
“You okay?”
I blinked and Osian’s face swam back into view. He’d stopped kissing my neck and he’d pulled back. Thank God.
“Can…can I go home?” I whispered. “Sorry, I’m…we’re moving a little fast.”
His lips pressed into a thin line and he shifted back in his seat. I could tell he was disappointed as he helped me back into my clothes. Of course he was. As always, the threat of Merrick loomed heavy over me.
Touch her and die.
We drove home in silence and I let him kiss me briefly. Then he walked me to the door and I let myself in, locking it behind me.
The house was dark and I knew Merrick was probably already asleep. I worked my shoes off and went to my room to shower. Then, hair wet and dressed in a baggy sweatshirt that reached my knees, I padded into the kitchen for a drink.
I took my wine out into the front room and turned on the lamp. From up above, there was a scuffle. Then I heard Merrick’s even tread on the floor.
Down the hall.
Down the stairs.
He appeared in the doorway, one hand rested on the wall. I paused, mid swallow, and gazed at him in the darkness.
He wore a white t-shirt, tight over his torso. His lower half was covered in a pair of gray sweatpants.
Thin gray sweatpants.
My whole body tensed.
I’d never seen him in casual pants before and I was struggling not to stare. The problem was, I could see the lean ridges of his pecs and abs right over the waistband. And lower…well, there was a faint rise beneath his pants. Like he wasn’t wearing boxer briefs, like he’d just rolled out of bed and pulled on his sweats.
“Are you alright?” he said.
His voice was husky and his hair was rumpled. He’d been sleeping and I’d woken him. Guilt twinged in my chest.
His eyes softened as he gazed down at me and a lump rose in my throat.
The waterworks started and I blinked rapidly, dipping my head and taking a sip of my wine. I heard him move across the carpet. He knelt before me so we were eye to eye.
His hand came up. Warm. So big it engulfed the side of my head.
He brushed back my hair and tilted my chin up.
“Clara, you can always talk to me,” he said softly. “About anything.”
I swallowed hard, choking back everything I wanted to say. Pushing down all my fear, all my secrets. The pink V card in my wallet, the terrifying future looming over me.
The problem was, it was too big. It just crawled back up my throat and came spilling out along with my tears.
“I’m scared,” I whispered.
His mouth parted. “Why?”
He was the perfect listener, attentive and quiet. I felt the dam burst and I spilled out everything to him.
Face burning, I told him I was a virgin and that Candice wasn’t. I told him about the man she’d slept with and how she’d felt after. I told him I never wanted to feel like that, but I was worried Osian might be the sort of person who would make me.
