by Debra Kayn
"I don't know what to say," she said.
Toe to toe, she stared up at his face. Unable to figure out what was going on in his head, she hoped she wasn't making a mistake. The last several days, she'd enjoyed spending her time with Dawson. Not that she hadn't before, but they'd fallen into a comfortable stage. They watched movies, talked, cooked together, and now shopped for clothes.
Every time she turned around, he showed her how perfect he was and continually surprised her. She was afraid of disappointing him with all her imperfections.
"What if I can't find a job and overstay my welcome?" she whispered.
"You'll get a job when the time is right. There's no time limit. I'm here to help you, and that help doesn't have an expiration date." He looped his arm around her shoulders and led her to the living room.
He seemed to have all the confidence that she'd do fine without relying on the Network to live an independent life. She wished she felt as self-assured. She'd hate it if he started to view her as a charity case.
Chapter Twenty Four
Roni stood in front of Dawson staring at his crotch. He waved his hands in front of her face. If she'd concentrate on the moves he was trying to teach her, she could take a break, and he could meet Scott outside.
Instead, she'd spent the last half hour staring at one part of his body or another, mainly his chest, until the last sixty seconds when her gaze roamed south.
"Eyes up." He pointed at his face. "You never want to look down when someone is threatening you. Look to the left or right or up in the sky, but looking down tells a man you're scared and vulnerable, plus you won't be able to see his hands."
"Okay." She stood up straighter and gazed at his face.
"Good." He crooked his finger. "Now move toward me and before you're within my reach, throw your weight forward with the heel of your hand aimed for my nose. This time, try to get close enough you can make contact."
She nodded. "I can do this."
"Yes, you can." He grinned. "Go."
She took two steps and brought back her elbow the way he'd shown her and straightened her arm while lunging forward making up the distance. He leaned to the side and narrowly missed having his nose crammed up into his brain.
He caught her before she tumbled forward with the momentum. "Yes, just like that."
"No way that will work on other men. What's going to happen is I'm going to break my hand and then fall flat on my face." She scrunched her nose and planted her hands on her hips. "It's different acting this move out with you. On the street with a total stranger or someone who is attacking me, I'll freeze up and forget everything."
"That's why you'll keep practicing until the move feels natural. Boxers do it all the time. Get consistent hits and pretty soon you'll feel confident that every strike will make contact with your target." He lifted her hand. "Keep your knuckles straight, fingertips bent, just like that. In that position, you'll naturally bring your hand back farther over your wrist, allowing solid contact with the heel of your hand. You'll not only do more damage than you could with your fist, but you'll also immediately stop someone from hurting you. And, trust me, you won't break your hand."
She curled her fingers into her palm and tugged against his hold. He dipped his knees and looked in her face. "Why do you pull away every time I hold your hand."
"My nails are hideous," she muttered.
"You bite them." He shrugged her concern off. "You and a million other people chew their fingernails. You could have a worse habit."
"Like what?'
He let go of her hand. "Eating mints."
"Get out of here." She scoffed and pushed him. "There's nothing wrong with that."
"I'm just saying. Lifesavers cost money." He laughed, pulling her back in front of him. "Though there are benefits."
"Uh huh." She tilted her head toward him. "My breath smells good."
"Your tongue tastes minty," He leaned down. "Addicting. Fresh"
Her chin came up, and she whispered, "Prove it."
"Sweetheart." He groaned, moving his hand up her spine and palmed the back of her neck. "This isn't smart."
"Please," she mouthed.
Fuck him. He'd skirted around her every single day after holding her every night. There was no doubt she wanted him.
Except, he had a feeling she wanted him for the wrong reasons. His balls ached in pleasure, and he weakened.
He could only take so much attention.
"One kiss," he said before he captured her lips.
The looks, the touches, the sweet, soft feel of her cheek on his chest when she slept, and he had to stop himself from taking a little. A little tongue. A little nibble.
And then, he lost himself in her mouth sucking on that fresh taste he craved.
He softened his lips, slowed down, and smiled through the kiss as her hands gripped the front of his T-shirt and held on. Whether for the right or wrong reasons, he gave her what they both needed.
Using his tongue, he stroked her until her eyes closed and she moaned. The verbal acceptance wrapped around him, giving him permission to go on.
Needing more, he backed her up against the island between the living room and kitchen, pinning her in place. He slowly swept his left hand down her side, skimming the swell of her breast, and the indention of her waist. She sagged, and he shifted his leg between her thighs to steady her.
Her heat warmed his thigh through his jeans.
He tilted his head to the other side, tugged on her bottom lip, and dove back into her plush mouth. Starved and aroused, he only thought of putting his cock in her body while kissing her. He needed inside of her before she mistook his intentions.
He wanted her.
Only her.
No other women would ease the ache growing in him, stronger at each passing minute and making him more determined every fucking day to be her protector, her lover, her everything. He wanted her, and more than anything else he wanted to take what she freely offered.
But, he had nothing to give back.
He pulled away and recognized the disoriented look she aimed at him. She needed him.
"Sweetheart, you need to make sure this is what you want," he said.
She leaned closer. "It is, Dawson."
"You sure?"
"I've never..." She grimaced. "I don't know how to explain myself."
"Try." He held her tighter. "I need to know."
She nodded. "Sex has never been something I've wanted. I never had the option to say no."
"Fuck," he muttered, cupping the back of her head. "Then, tell me no. Tell me to walk out that door."
"I don't want to." She placed her hands on his stomach and peered up at him. "For the first time, I want to have sex, and I want to have it with you."
His gut tightened. "Why?"
If she wanted to erase her memories or use him to heal after being with Victor, he wanted no part in playing her therapist. It'd kill him if afterward, she regretted giving a piece of herself to him. She barely had anything left to give away.
"Because I like you." She shook her head and smiled sadly. "You make me feel normal and make me hope that you really do see some good in me. That's something I haven't had someone do for me since I was thirteen years old and lost my mom."
"Sweetheart, you are good." He kissed her forehead. "The shit that's happened to you wasn't your fault."
"I know that," she whispered. "I do. But, I willingly signed up with the Network to work in the sex industry."
He inhaled deeply and clamped his lips shut. She couldn't see what she'd done, and it was clear to him that her decision to work in the bordellos saved her life.
"Roni, you can't look at going to work for the Network as anything but the smartest choice you've ever made in your life." He pulled her to his chest and held her. "You had no one, no money, nowhere to go that Sparrows wouldn't find you. It took me nine months of searching on my own to finally figure out where you'd gone and what you were doing. Thank fuck, you left an
d found somewhere to hide. I wish Jacqueline would've done the same."
"She would of if she had more time or an opportunity," whispered Roni. "Jacqueline was the strongest woman I'd ever met."
He closed his eyes and whispered. "Do you see what I see when I look at you? You can't fault yourself for escaping to something better. Deep down, you need to believe you are strong and made the right decision."
She looked up. "I made the right decision to trust you."
He groaned and captured her mouth. Picking her up, he carried her to his bedroom. He laid her down on the bed and landed beside her.
"Someday, you'll see that we've all made the right decision," he whispered.
"You?" She rolled toward him and wrapped her arms around him. "About what?"
"Life," he said, against her neck, kissing his way up her jaw and finding her lips.
Her hand caressed his face. He swallowed her moan and pulled her hip toward him, pressing against her. She would never know he needed her as much as she needed him.
Chapter Twenty Five
Never in her wildest dreams had she believed it was possible to be more turned on right now laying with Dawson. Roni's hand shook as she touched his whiskered cheek. His concern for her and the way he talked about sex without turning her away or taking advantage of her only made her more desperate.
"I want this so much," she said.
Dawson stilled. "You're going to have to help me out, sweetheart. Do you want your clothes on or off?"
"Can I leave my shirt on?" She pushed up into a sitting position.
He moved with her. "If that's what you want."
She shifted to one hip, pulled her sweatpants down and moved to the other side. The ugly pants were too big for her and made removal easy.
Putting her legs straight out and together in front of her on the bed, she grabbed the hem of her T-shirt and covered the top of her thighs. Half naked in front of him, she shivered. Men always tried to see more of her, touch more of her body, and Dawson's approval over keeping her top on only added to the butterflies already attacking her stomach thinking about what comes next.
Dawson was different than any other man in her past. He made her feel like anything that happened would be a good thing. That nothing she did right or wrong would be a problem.
He gave her something she'd never experienced before. Something so far removed from sex that it made her more conscious of how this would be the first time she welcomed sex.
She gazed at his chest. "This is awkward for you."
He chuckled. "Awkward was trying to have sex for the first time at sixteen years old in an alley against the wall of a brick building with a girl named Cindy."
She lifted her gaze to his eyes. "What happened?"
"Nothing." He lifted the collar of his shirt to his chin, reached behind his head, and pulled his shirt off. "She was only five feet tall, and I stood six feet two inches even as a teenager. When I realized I'd have to lift her higher if we were going to stand up and do the deed, that's where I ran into problems. I had no idea how to hold her up while I put my dick in her. I ended up struggling to keep her high enough without the brick on the side of the building scratching her back, we gave up."
The visual he created amused her. "So, you struck out?"
"Only until the next weekend when she invited me over to her house while her parents were out. It was a lot easier in bed. Though looking back, I'm sure Cindy would have a different opinion."
Roni ogled his chest. A smattering of hair covered the middle and a thin line of dark hair ran over his hard stomach and disappeared into his jeans. Caught up in the story, she hadn't realized he'd started stripping in front of her.
There was something about his chest that appealed to her more than any part of him. He'd comforted her many times holding her to him, letting her use him for a pillow. His strength and size brought her an incredible amount of security.
Dawson hooked her chin and tilted her face. "Do you want me to put my shirt back on?"
"No," she said, crossing her arms and lifting the bottom of her shirt over her head until she only had her bra left on her body. "I'm...silly. We should be naked. That's normal and how it's done."
"Whatever makes you more comfortable." He glanced down at her breasts and back up at her eyes. "You do what you—"
"Just do it." She laid down on her back and covered her cheeks with her hands. "I'm sorry. I don't even know what to do. I've always been told and ordered to do whatever needs to be done, and it's not like I don't know. I do know, and I did want this...five minutes ago before you gave me the choice of how I wanted you to act. I don't want you to go out of your way to make me comfortable. I want what we have when we're together, and I want to feel like I was feeling in the other room. You have no idea how much I want to have sex with you. I'm driving myself insane. You're making me insane."
He flopped down on the bed beside her. She put her hands at her sides, and he slipped his fingers between hers and held on. Shoulder to shoulder, she lay gasping for air. Afraid she'd messed everything up, and she'd have to wait until the next time she got turned on before approaching Dawson about having sex, she stared at the ceiling.
"I should get up and make your dinner. I can cook, and eating makes you happy," she mumbled. "Are you hungry?"
Dawson lifted her arm, still holding her, and put their bound hands on his chest. "That's the most you’ve said at one time to me."
She turned her head and looked at him. "I usually don't have much to say."
He gazed at her. "I want you, Roni. I have for a while now, even when you tried to chase me away back at Red Light by throwing yourself at me. The thing is, sweetheart, I'm more scared of doing something wrong and reminding you of the past, and that shuts me right down. I don't want anything about me to remind you of what you've gone through before. That's why I asked what you want me to do. That's why I'll always give you a choice on how you want me to fuck you."
"I think..." She sighed. "You don't understand, or I'm not making myself clear."
"Then tell me again until I do understand."
She rolled to her side and let go of his hand. Leaning against him naked, she whispered in case the truth upset him. "I don't want to set this up so you can have sex with me. I want to have sex with you."
His gaze intensified, and she sprawled her hand on his chest. His skin, hot, tight, and hard, swelled against her palm with his intake of air. Warmth pooled between her legs.
Dawson curled his stomach leaning forward and lifted her in the air. She landed on this thighs, her hands planted on his stomach. She vibrated inside knowing she was naked, and he had a full view between her legs and her bare breasts. There was nowhere to hide or cover herself. She sat atop him in plain view.
"You want to fuck me, then do what you want to me." He latched his hands behind his head.
She dropped her chin to her chest. "Anything?"
A definite ridge tented the front of his jeans. The idea of her doing what pleased her obviously appealed to him.
She sat up straighter and removed her hands from his stomach, aware of the heat coming off his body.
"Anything you want to do." He cocked his eyebrow. "Trust me. I'll enjoy it all."
"You're sure?" she asked, warming to the idea.
"Absolutely." His chest rose, and he grinned. "Don't worry about me. I'm easy to please."
The million ideas that'd entered her head when Dawson walked into her life and refused to go away, turned her world upside down, fled. She inhaled a steady breath. She had no idea what to do. Not wanting to disappoint him and also wanting to find out if she could make herself feel aroused again, she smoothed her hands over his stomach watching Dawson for a reaction.
When he continued to lay there with his eyes closed, she moved up his chest and ran her hand over the patch of hair in the middle, then out to his shoulders, and down his arms. Stretched out, she scooted up on his body until the hardness of his cock was between her legs.
Her body tingled, and she traced her pattern over his upper body again, rubbing, smoothing, feeling, letting her hips tilt when she reached his shoulders. She liked the pressure of him between her legs. After three more rounds, she leaned over and kissed his neck. Her bare breasts skimmed his chest heightening her pleasure.
Dawson's whiskered shadow scratched her cheek. She opened her mouth and sucked on the skin of his neck, tasting the salty mixture and leaving a mark.
Her legs tired, and she sat down on him. Fighting the urge to grind against his cock, she trembled, and her pussy dampened.
"It'd probably work better if you undid my jeans, sweetheart," whispered Dawson in her ear.
She pulled her head back. "I don't think I’m finished. I like this."
"Carry on," he said with a chuckle.
She stilled. "Are you laughing at me."
"No." He opened his eyes and lifted his head. "It's the best feeling in the world to have your hands on me and every time you move, you rub against my cock. But, if you expect to have sex maybe you can undo my pants and give me a little more room."
"Oh." She laughed softly, scooting back and pulling on his belt to loosen it. "I wasn't thinking."
"You don't need to think." He lifted his hips when she finished unzipping him. "Pull the jeans down a bit."
She lifted her butt off him and tugged on his pants taking his boxers, too. His cock sprang out. She sat back on her ass again and stared down at his hardness, pulsating and big.
Used to seeing covered dicks, she reached out and wrapped her hand around his girth. His hips shot forward, and she raised her gaze to his face. He held his head up with his hands and watched her touching him.
His skin, velvety soft. Yet, his cock was strong, hard, impressive.
The patience and adoration in his relaxed expression tightened all the muscles in her lower stomach, and she squirmed on his thighs. Men loved blowjobs.
"I-I don't want to put my mouth on you. Not yet," she said.
"I only want what you're comfortable doing." Dawson propped himself up on his elbows.
She tilted her head to the side and kept looking at him. Planning to have sex with him was harder than she thought it would be. The awkwardness and even his laidback attitude started to irritate her.
