Beautifully Damaged(39)

"Morning."

"You look beautiful."

I smiled. "Sweet talker. Stay here and I'll whip us up some breakfast."

I started from the bed but Trace's hand reached up to stop me and when I looked back at him his expression had turned serious.

"Are you sure about this, Ember?"

I sat on the bed, Indian-style, and took his hand into mine as my eyes held his.

"Someone, I'm guessing mom or dad or both, really did a number on you." I felt him stiffen as he attempted to take his hand back but I held firm.

"Listen to me, Trace." He had that look about him, the blank detached one, but he allowed me to keep his hand so I took that as him acquiescing and continued on.

"I don't know what they did to you and I hope one day you'll trust me enough to tell me but, Trace, whatever it is you think you believe about yourself is wrong. You say you're only good for one thing but how can you say that when the first time I met you, it was because you saw a man mistreating a woman and you stepped in, protected my virtue and offered me a place to stay when I had nowhere else to go. You came to the aid of that lady at the gallery and you sought to ease the hurt of that little girl at the fair.

That sense of right and wrong, and having the courage to act when you see an injustice, is as much a reflection on the man you are as those tattoos. You are, to your core, a good person, a kind person, a fair person. As far as your belief that you are not good enough for me, the only area I see where I have a leg up on you is that I came from a loving family. The fact that you didn't isn't a reflection on you but your miserable parents. As for the belief that sex is all you're good for, I think you use sex as a way of seeking value and, as much as I want to have sex with you -- plan to have sex with you -- I already see your value, so for me, sex is the colorful ribbon but you, Trace, are the prize."

Watching the play of emotions over Trace's face was painful but his eyes, when they looked into mine, were wary yet hopeful. "There's some really bad shit in my past, Ember, shit that may have you walking out if you learn of it."

I didn't miss the if part of that statement which caused a moment of hesitation. If he never planned on discussing his past with me, a past that still had power over him, how could we possibly hope to have a future? It was my hope that he would eventually come to trust me and in so doing would share with me what haunted him. I forced my trepidation out of my head and wrapped his face in my hands before I whispered, "There is nothing, absolutely nothing, that you could do or say that would make me leave you."

"Nothing?" He asked.

"Well." I dropped my hands to my sides.

"Ember?"

I forced myself to hold his gaze. "I can't be one of many, Trace, I can't be with you knowing that what we share you're sharing with others. I'm not made that way."

He reached up and touched my cheek. "Being with you -- I wouldn't want to be with anyone else but are you sure, Ember, that it's me you want?"

"Yes."

I knew, as he gazed into my eyes, that he wanted to believe me but he wasn't there yet. I was prepared to wait him out but then he leaned into me and kissed me. His lips moved over mine, tasting, teasing and then it changed as he reached up to frame my face with his hands. He ran his tongue along the seam of my lips and when I parted for him, he didn't hesitate to taste me fully. I moaned, deep in my throat, as I pulled him closer and kissed him deeper. When we pulled away from each other I saw everything I was feeling looking back at me from steel-blue eyes.

The weeks that followed were amazing. On the nights that I didn't work, Trace and I were together. There was still a reserve about him and I had a sense that though he wanted to pull me close, there was a part of him that I wasn't ever going to be able to touch. I wondered about that, about what it was in his past that had him so guarded. I'm sure it stemmed from the abuse of his youth but the fact that it still had an impact on him, was disturbing to me. I wanted to talk with him about it but I knew we weren't there yet and a part of me wondered if we ever would be.

Sometimes I would catch him just watching me and the look on his face was almost reverent, like he couldn't believe that I was there. I didn't understand that either. He was gorgeous but more, he was equally beautiful on the inside and all he saw was the damaged man he believed himself to be.

I was in love with him. It was too soon and there was so much I didn't know about him but I loved him, even more so because under that hard shell, there was tenderness and pain. I hadn't told him how I felt and was actually afraid that he might run away from me, screaming as he went. I worried that telling him I loved him was going to push him away instead of pulling him closer.