by Lucia Grace
“You scared the shit outta me.” His deep voice mutters against the top of my head, sounding devastated.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper back into his broad chest.
“Don’t.” He emphasizes and grinds out like sandpaper, reluctantly pulling back to look down at my face. I immediately miss his warmth, especially when I see the hard, cold look in his eyes. “Don’t you dare apologize. Just tell me what the fuck happened before I say to hell with it and leave to tear that motherfucker apart.”
Nash must have quietly slipped out back at some point because I don’t see him in the room when I look away to gather my thoughts.
“Kennedy, tell me,” Rhett pleads, using a balled fist to gently lift my chin so I meet his eyes. “Do you know him? Did he hurt you?” Rage and malice swim in the dark depths, ready to inflict pain on my behalf if needed.
Swallowing harshly, my voice is heavy and gruff, laden with embarrassment and shame. I shake my head. “No,” I whisper. “I’ve never seen him before. H-he just said something that…that brought me back to a time in my life that I hate to remember.”
Rhett’s nostrils flare, as if he’s breathing fire. “What was it, angel? Tell me so I can fix it.” His eyes are back to pleading again as I’m pulled back into his strong arms. “Tell me so I can help make that look on your face, those tears in your eyes, and that fear trembling through you go away.”
Oh my, this man.
Despite feeling like my heart is going to beat from my chest in fear. Despite my skin crawling at those two words that put me in a tailspin. Despite feeling dirty and used and broken often times beyond repair. Despite it all, this strong, tattooed, rough and tumble man has the ability to make me melt and forget myself. He has the ability to make me believe for a moment that I deserve his kindness and warmth. That I’m not hopeless and beyond saving.
“Rhett…I…just not here. I’ll tell you but without the chance of anyone hearing or walking in. Please.” Pleading as I wipe the tears from my cheeks.
Leaning away from me to look into my eyes, I see the moment he gives in and decides not to push. “Alright, but let me walk you up to your place—”
“No—”
“Angel—”
“No, Rhett. I’m fine,” I demand. Breathing a deep inhale before letting it out, I continue. “I’m not going to let my reaction dictate my life. Just give me a few more minutes to calm down, I’ll finish the last couple hours of my shift, and then tonight I’ll tell you what happened.”
Despite my meltdown I’m proud of my backbone. Though I wish I had an ounce of that strength moments ago when I fell apart.
“Fine.” He relents. “Go back to work, but as soon as your shift’s over, you walk that pretty little ass back over here because we’re talking at my place. Tonight, angel. And not a moment later.”
IT’S KENNEDY’S FIRST TIME COMING to my condo, and I wish it were under better circumstances. Because I know I’m going to fucking hate this conversation we’re about to have. From the look on her face earlier to the total panic attack she had in reaction to my client, I know it’s going to be something I don’t want to hear, but I have to.
After she insisted more than a dozen times that she was well enough to finish the last couple hours of her day shift at the bar, much to my dislike, I couldn’t have been more thankful that after my last fucking client left—one who won’t be coming back, ever—that I had nothing booked for the rest of the day. So with Nash’s agreement, once Kennedy’s shift was up, I hightailed it out of the shop to grab my girl so I could bring her for the talk I told her we would be having.
And now, here we are, sitting side by side on my leather sectional. Nothing but heavy and worry surrounding us.
“Time for another truth, angel.”
Her eyes shoot up to mine at hearing my words.
“You first,” she whispers, then licks her lips quickly. “Give me a truth…”
I stare straight into her pleading eyes so she can see nothing but my honesty. “No matter what you tell me tonight, it won’t change one thing about how I feel about you, nothin’. I’ll still look at you as the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen, want you just as much, think about you every goddamn second of every day. Know that. Believe it.”
Breathing a deep sigh that sounds a lot like relief, I see her shoulders settle a bit. As if some of the weight has been lifted off of them.
Composing herself, she shifts, contemplating her words before nodding her head. Resolute. Steeling that spine of hers and reeling in that strength she doesn’t even realize she has.
“I had just turned thirteen when it happened. Puberty hit and my once-lanky frame morphed into curves overnight. From an A to a full C and my hips and butt filled right out. Women and girls commented, and men and boys just stared. I felt like a freak because no one else looked like me. I was a girl with a woman’s body, and no family to help me through it.”
I can already tell I’m not going to like this story. Not one fucking bit. Not with how it’s starting and the look on her face and the tone of her voice.
The fright and sadness and goddamn shame coating every word.
“Not until my foster father at the time thought he’d lend a helping hand.” Her voice turns lethal then. Her chin trembling and tone shaky, but her words full of anger.
And now I know, I know, where this is going. God-fucking-dammit.
“He always made me uncomfortable. How he leered and stared at me. But as soon as I developed, it worsened tenfold. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of me, always tried to be close. So I made sure to never be alone with him. I stayed away from the house as much as possible.”
When she takes a moment to gather herself, I notice how she didn’t refer to it as home. That she’s careful not to create any connection to that foster home or her past.
Swallowing harshly, she continues. “But then one night he did something he’d never done before…he came into my room. He violated the small space that I had, that felt like mine…before he violated me,” her small voice finishes.
Tattered and torn and beyond broken as a sob slips free past her lips.
My gut clenches and tightens. Rage consuming me. But before I can say a word, she keeps going.
“I was asleep when I woke up thinking I heard the creak of my door. When I didn’t hear anything else, I tried to calm myself down…until I felt my bed dip. Then before I knew what was happening, a rough hand clasped over my mouth while the o-other…the other grabbed my breast.”
Sobs wrack her body, and I pull her in close. Words getting lost in her tears as she gets lost in the pain of her past.
“H-he di-didn’t rape me. I need you to kn-know he didn’t get that fa-far before I was able to kick him off of m-me. But he…he touched far more than a man more than triple my age ever should be able to.” Her small hands grip onto my t-shirt in a death grip, not letting go, only bringing me closer. And I have no intentions of letting her go.
Ever.
“And the worst part,” she whispers in agony as her cheek lays against my chest, the shirt soaked from her tears. “His actions somehow twisted me into thinking that was the only attention or affection I’d ever be able to get. So I let way too many boys and men use me for all I thought I was good for.”
Fire burns through my veins as tears track down her face, and her sniffles fill the tense air. Agony and shame and a fuck ton of loneliness dripping down her cheeks and dropping off her trembling chin. Her past riddled with it all and more.
If I could speak, I’d demand to know that cocksucker’s name so I could track him down and make him wish he was never born. Make him suffer a painful fucking lesson on respecting women and the word no. I don’t give a fuck that this was years ago, before Kennedy and I ever met and had any clue that this kind of connection existed, because she’s mine now. No matter the time she said she needed when she finally agreed to giving us a chance. No matter that we’ve known each other less than a month and been on only one date. N
one of it matters because I knew she was mine from the moment I laid eyes on her.
And I take care of what’s mine.
Just thinking of his hands on my girl has that fire turning to molten lava. Heavy and thick and absolutely unrelenting. Thrashing like a volcano ready to erupt.
“I’m sorry.” Her softly spoken words have me simmering down right quick. My hands going slack from their tightly formed fists laid against her back .
I pull away just enough to look at her beautiful, tear-stained face. “What the fuck are you sorry for, angel? Ain’t nothing you did wrong.”
She clears her throat. “I can tell you’re mad.”
“At him,” I grit out. “What that motherfucker did—”
“It was a long time ago—”
“It doesn’t fucking matter, Kennedy. He assaulted you. Made you feel unworthy when you are anything but. Give me a name, baby. Give me his name, and I’ll make sure that fucker pays for ever touching you.”
There it is again. Hot and heavy and thick.
Angry.
Fucking fire.
A small hand lightly touches my cheek. Kennedy leans into my space from her spot on the couch next to me. Her knees, once tucked, now resting against my thigh she’s so close.
“It’s the past,” she whispers. I go to interject, but she stops me with a firmer tone. “It’s the past, Rhett. It’s over, and I may not be healed completely because what he did led to so many mistakes. Today was a setback, yes, but I’m well on my way. This fresh start. Saylor. Gus…” She trails off, then pale green eyes lock on mine. “You.”
My heart fucking flutters—that’s right, flutters—at that one word spoken so tenderly. At the truth and meaning and depth that one word possesses.
I turn then, so her knees are in my lap and my hands are on her face and my lips are on hers.
Staking my claim.
Possessing her heart.
Owning her soul.
Taking what’s mine.
This girl and her ability to wreck me should be terrifying. But it feels so fucking right.
The quiet gasp she made at first contact turns into a low, throaty moan. Causing my dick to turn to steel.
This is my first real taste of her, our first kiss last week on our date—and every one since then—being chaste and simple. Just the touch of lips, of breathing the same air. And I can say without a fucking doubt that she tastes better than I could have ever imagined. I’ll never get enough.
But not wanting to rush or push her, knowing how important taking things slow means to her, I reluctantly pull back.
Our heavy breaths the only sound surrounding us.
Our eyes locked onto the others.
My hands now in her hair and hers grasping onto my wrists for dear life. Holding on. Because she knows I’m going to rock her fucking world.
“I know you wanna take things slow, and I completely support you in wanting that. I’m not trying to push you, I swear, but Jesus Christ all I can think about is erasing that motherfucker’s touch. Erasing everyone else before me and making you mine.” I swallow harshly, just as I notice her throat work with one of her own. “And I realize this may not be the most appropriate time with all you’ve told me tonight and all you’ve been through today, and I’ll stop right this fucking second if you say so, but I’d love nothing more than to explore more of this gorgeous body of yours.”
Her green eyes volley back and forth between mine. Searching for sincerity and truth.
Sliding a hand from her hair and placing it against her neck, I feel her pulse thrum like hummingbird wings below her flawless skin.
Then—with two simple words—she knocks all the air from my lungs, has my heart beating triple time, and causes all the blood in my body to flow to my dick.
“Touch me.”
At my words, a deep growl rumbles from his chest and shoots past his lips. Then, as they descend on mine once again, his one hand fists my long hair while the other travels from its place at my neck, sliding down past the side of my breast, to my hip where he squeezes. Never breaking contact from our heated kiss, he pulls my left leg and before I know it, I’m straddling this beast of a man, feeling his hard and huge bulge hit directly between my legs.
I moan and groan and whimper all at once. Trembling with a want I’ve never felt before.
The new position causes my flowy skirt to ride up my thighs, almost baring my panties, but Rhett never pays that any mind. Too busy devouring my lips in the fiercest kiss of my life and causing me to lose all sense to even notice.
This kiss…it’s more than I ever could have imagined. Completely consuming me, owning me.
Ripping his lips from mine to allow a quick reprieve, I begin panting wildly while Rhett slides his deliciously skilled lips to my chin, nipping once, before kissing and licking his way down my neck.
I swear I’m going to combust from his lips alone.
“God, you taste fucking amazing.” His tone barely recognizable it’s so rough and hard-edged, practically animalistic.
I moan again in response.
“And these fucking noises you’re making are going to kill me, angel. I fucking swear it. Listening to you all hot for me, because of me. Never been so twisted up before,” he presses into the heated skin of my neck before dragging his tongue back up to nip my earlobe where he whispers, “Never wanted anything like I want you—body and soul.”
I melt there, right into a pile of mush, I have to, because no one has ever said anything close to that to me before and actually meant it. And Rhett means it, I know he does, because his heart’s a wild stallion beating frantically in his chest. And when he pulls back to stare into my eyes, his convey it all.
That he wants me, this, and he’s not playing around.
My heart sighs in my chest, I swear it does.
But before I can say a word in reply, his lips crash to mine again, and his hands wander my body from my hair to my breasts to my hips and round ass.
“These curves…goddamn. Touching them is a whole different level than just watching them, seeing them. They fill my hands perfectly, baby. Like you were made for me.”
I’m beginning to think I was.
With his dark eyes staring intently into mine, he gently slides his rough, tattooed hands under the black cotton of my skirt. His nostrils flare as his large hands make contact with the lace at my hips. Then one hand stays in place while the other slips a finger into the opening at my leg and begins sliding down to my core.
It pulses in anticipation and want for Rhett’s touch. I’ve never felt this before, this kind of heart-pounding, soul-crushing, all-consuming feeling of need for someone else. This is different than it’s ever been before.
For my body and…my heart.
As soon as he touches my center, air bursts from his lips on a whoosh as I moan a breathless whimper. “Bare and fucking soaked. My god, you are trying to kill me,” he growls.
Then in a swift and smooth move much too fast for a man his size, Rhett has me flipped to my back with him hovering above me, my panties a pile of lace after he drags them down my legs, and my skirt flipped up to expose me.
“I need to see you, angel. I’ve got to. ‘Specially now after feeling you, and fucking hell you’re perfect. Pretty and pink and so soft.” His voice turns tender, just like his touch, as his finger runs through my lips.
Wreaking havoc on my body with the small touch alone.
I move my unsteady hands to unbutton his jeans, desperate to touch him too, but he pulls his hovering hips back while shaking his head. Never removing his hand from my body. “Fuck, angel. I want nothing more than to feel your hand wrapped around my dick, but the second your soft skin touches me, I know I’ll fucking lose it. And I can’t. Not yet. Because I promised you we’d wait.”
My heart melts. “But—”
“No, baby,” he interrupts. “This is all about you. Let me touch you, make you feel better than you’ve ever felt from a touch alone.” His voice
deepens as his fingers start swirling and moving, causing my breath to hitch. “And then after you’ve come screaming my name,” he growls, “I’m going to kiss your sweet lips, hold you close, and prove to you that I’m different than what you’ve ever known.”
And if I ever had any hesitation on whether I could fall for Rhett Shaw, that all went out the window right this second. Because this man…he’s so much more than I could have anticipated.
In the best way possible.
Tilting my head up without a word, Rhett meets me halfway after seeing the silent plea in my eyes, and our lips crash and burn brighter than any shooting star. His tongue plunges deep and wet into my mouth just as his finger does the same to my center.
I gasp against his lips at the sweet invasion.
Then he’s pulling away, settling on his left arm next to me, and dropping his forehead to mine, all while his calloused yet gentle fingers swirl and dip through my wetness. Dragging it from my opening to my clit and back again before plunging two fingers deep, hitting a spot buried deep inside of me, causing my toes to curl.
“God, Rhett,” I breathe out, my body writhing under the touch of his hand getting me there. So close to shattering.
“That’s right, angel. Who’s touching you? Who’s making you feel this good?”
“Youuuuuu,” I drag out on a moan as his wet fingers pinch my clit.
“Who?” His deep voice cracks like thunder.
“Rhett,” I scream out when not two, but three fingers stretch me wide.
“Damn fucking straight. The only name you’ll be saying, moaning, fucking screaming from now on. Mine.” His voice nothing but a rumble from his chest as his fingers work me over.
Before I have a chance to speak or even comprehend what he just said, his lips drop to devour mine just as his fingers hit that special spot inside and his thumb swirls my clit all at once, causing me to detonate. To shatter and break and fall into an abyss of oh my god.
Then, while my chest heaves for air and my heart pounds in need, in an act so hot I swear I orgasm a second time from the sight alone, Rhett lifts his fingers to his mouth and licks my wetness from every digit.
