“Just don’t, Hutch. Please.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, yet holds so much emotion it could very well take me to my knees.
What have I done and how do I fix it?
I pull her to my chest, wrapping her up in my arms, providing her physical comfort when my words only seem to cause distress. At first she stiffens in my hold, but quickly relaxes into me on a sigh. I carefully back her towards the couch and sit, pulling her into my lap and holding her as I did last night. And just like last night, it feels completely right.
“Talk to me, Kitten.”
Lifting her head from my shoulder, she looks me in the eye before her gaze falls to her lap where she’s picking at the raveled edge of her t-shirt. Her breasts rise and fall with her uneven breaths. Emotions flit across her face, but her silence persists. Finally, she meets my eyes again, resolve reflecting back at me.
“I can’t stand your pity.” She starts, taking a deep breath and releasing it on a sigh. “Look, I get that you regret what we did. I don’t care—that’s on you not me—but I can’t stand this hot and cold treatment.”
“Wait, what?” I’m dumbfounded—truly and completely. She thinks I regret making love to her?
“It’s okay, Hutch. I just want to go back home and put this whole mess behind me.”
Oh, hell no. She’s out of her goddamn mind if she thinks she’s leaving me now that I’ve had her. She’s mine even if she doesn’t realize it yet.
“I think you’re confused, Kitten. I don’t regret a single second of being deep inside that hot little cunt of yours. If I had my way, I’d bury myself inside you and never leave.”
Her eyes are wide as saucers and full of confusion as she takes in my confession.
“What I’m sorry for is not protecting you the way I should have.”
I can see the moment it clicks in her mind because her cheeks heat to the most adorable shade of pink I’ve ever seen. I could spend the rest of my days bringing that blush to her face and never get tired of it.
“Protect me? You were upset you didn’t wear a condom, not that you made love to me?” She’s so unsure of herself, I could kick my own ass for making such a mess of things.
I grip her hips and turn her so she’s straddling me, grabbing ahold of her lush ass I pull her tight to my body and rub her against my hard length. “That’s right, Kitten. I shouldn’t have taken you without protection. I’d love nothing more than to fuck my baby into you, but I would never forgive myself if you were hurt because of my actions.”
“You’re clean right?” She asks warily.
“Of course.” I know I sound indignant, but I can’t help it. As if I’d ever take that kind of risk with her.
Confusion clouds her eyes. “I don’t understand. If not that, then what?”
The serious direction of our conversation has me dropping my hands from her hips and clenching them into tight fists.
“Kitten, I’m all kinds of fucked up.” Scrubbing my hands down my face I brace myself for possible rejection. “The shrinks say I have PTSD.” I laugh darkly before continuing. “Some big tough solider I am. I can’t even go to the fucking store without anxiety clawing its way through me to the point where I can barely breathe or think straight.”
She looks at me with sad, understanding eyes. Instead of pulling away, she leans closer into my chest, giving me comfort while I expose my biggest shame.
“I wanted you safe from me. If I put my baby in you, you’d be saddled with a broken man. When you first came here and found out who I was, you looked at me like I was a hero. I’m not hero. All I am is a shell of the man I use to be.”
There is no hiding Blake’s look of disgust at my words. I grip her waist to lift her off my lap, the pressure of anxiety building in my chest making me want to run. Before I can move her, her hands cup my cheeks and she looks me square in the eye.
“You listen to me, Hutch. You’re not fucked up. You’re not a shell of a man. What you are is a man that came back from war with scars. Not all scars show on our skin, some are soul deep, but they don’t make you broken. In fact, scars are pretty damned badass. They show you’re a survivor.”
Is this girl for real?
I have no idea how to respond to her declaration. I’ve felt like such a failure for so long, I can’t even wrap my head around what she said. She doesn’t give me a chance to respond to her before her lips are crashing down on mine in a soul searing kiss.
That wicked little tongue of hers darts into my mouth, stroking against mine. Hands bury in my hair, lips crush to mine, and she rocks her hips. My cock instantly responds, growing thick and hard behind my zipper. I let her have her way and follow her lead with the kiss, giving her full control to use me for her pleasure.