Just One Touch (Slow Burn #5)(28)

Her small fingertips dug into his chest and he felt her slight tremble, the effect his words had on her. Then she lifted her head so that she could look him in the eye.

It was obvious she was nervous, and she had the most adorably shy look as her gaze traveled over his entire face.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked in a hushed whisper he had to strain to hear.

His fingers, still tangled in her hair, gently pulled through the strands as he caressed their length and then the tips, wrapping them around his knuckles.

"You can always ask me anything," he vowed.

"Can I . . . Can I kiss you?"

Heat traveled to the center of his being. His blood blazed a trail of fire through his veins until he was certain his entire core was molten lava. He stared at her with hungry, hooded eyes, nearly groaning with the dilemma before him. The moment her request had registered, he'd gone rock hard, and the last thing he wanted was to scare the hell out of her with a monster erection.

When she started to say something, likely to recant or apologize, he pressed one finger to her lips.

"I have to ask you one question first," he said huskily.

She looked at him in confusion but nodded her agreement.

Praying the entire time, he drew in a breath and said, "How old are you, sweetheart?"

Her brow furrowed and he cursed himself, because once more shame made her features sad and distant.

"I don't know," she murmured.

"I don't understand," he said with genuine confusion.

"I only have a few memories of my life before . . . them."

She shuddered with distaste when she said "them," and chill bumps erupted over her skin. He drew her in closer and rubbed his palms up and down in an effort to warm her.

"Mostly they're like random, brief snatches of time, gone before I can grab on to them and hold on long enough to make sense of them. I know I was at least a few years old when I went to live with them and I've been with them for almost twenty years, but they're all a blur, you know? In the beginning I would mark the passing of each day until I realized that no one was coming for me and that time meant nothing. I stopped counting because it didn't seem to matter anymore. I didn't matter," she said painfully. 

Isaac cupped her chin, forcing her gaze upward, wanting her to see the sincerity in his expression and words.

"You matter, Jenna. Don't ever think differently. You matter."

She swallowed back a sob and then buried her face in his neck, grasping his shoulders with both hands. Then she finally pulled back and looked pleadingly up at him.

"I want to kiss you, Isaac, but I don't know how. I want it to be all the things you said it could be. I want to pretend just for a moment. Will you help me?"

He wiped the twin trails of tears from her cheeks with his thumb. "It would be my pleasure, angel."





ELEVEN

JENNA'S teeth were chattering as she questioned for the sixth time coming into Isaac's bedroom. She knew it was wrong. Forbidden. That she'd be branded a harlot and worse. But she wanted this even if she wasn't sure what this was.

All her life she'd viewed kissing as nothing. No example of caring or regard because no one ever kissed anyone. The men treated the women in the group coldly, callously. Like they were possessions, there for the men's pleasure and nothing more. It had never occurred to her that a man would kiss a woman for reasons of affection, caring or even love.

Why had Isaac kissed her? He'd kissed her twice. Not on the lips, but she could still feel the warm imprint of his lips in the places he had kissed, and she never wanted to lose that sensation.

Did she have the courage to be so forthright and bold? So brazen as to kiss him? He didn't seem to mind the idea at all, but then he'd been nice to her and maybe that's all it was.

Shyly she moved her lips closer to his until she could feel his soft, even breaths against her chin. She wanted to kiss his lips but lacked the courage to be that bold, so she moved just to the side and feathered a soft brush of her lips right at the corner of his mouth.

He let out a soft groan and his arms tightened around her, holding her still and firmly captured against his body. Then he lowered his mouth and took her lips just as she'd wanted to do to him. He was so gentle, it brought tears to her eyes.

He took his time, the warm, gentle pressure of his lips against hers eliciting sensations in the rest of her body that she didn't understand. Then he softly laved his tongue over the seam of her mouth, making her gasp in response. His tongue probed inward, licking the tip of hers before withdrawing, and he kissed his way out of her mouth again, finishing by sealing her mouth completely with his, leaving her entire body flushed and aching with awareness.

As he drew away, his gaze was focused on her, piercing, studying her response.