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He lets go of my chin and picks me up by my hips. I wrap my legs around his waist, and my arms around his neck, not wanting to fall. Although, he would never let that happen. When he sinks into one of the chairs in the sitting area, he brings me down onto his lap so I’m straddling him. This is probably a bad position. My panties are soaked and pressing against him. His slacks are definitely going to be wet when I get up.
“Sweetheart, I don’t think a single thing about you is weird. I love that you have a side of you that lets go. I will always encourage it. I’ll take care of you and nurture you, and I’ll enjoy every second of it. Don’t hide from me. Don’t keep any part of you from me. I want it all. I want your strong and stubborn side, and I want your innocent and soft side. Okay?”
I cross my arms over my chest and narrow my eyes. “I’m not stubborn.”
Amusement dances in his irises as he tries to keep from smiling. “Okay, baby. Whatever you say.”
When I don’t say anything, he continues. “Tomorrow, I want to introduce you to Cali and Scarlet. They’re just like you. They have stuffed toys, they make bracelets, create art, cause chaos, and give all of us gray hairs. Once you meet them, you’ll understand that you are exactly what I want and need. I need your innocence when I come home. I need your light. Okay?”
My muscles twitch, and my tummy flutters. I’m not sure why I’m nervous about meeting Cali and Scarlet. What if they don’t like me? What if I don’t fit in? Will Bash want me then? Will he change his mind?
“What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?”
His hands rest on my knees, massaging gently and soothing some of my anxiety. His touch always seems to comfort me. Inch by inch, my muscles relax, and I let out a long breath.
“What if they don’t like me? I can tell they’re important to you.”
Continuing to stroke his thumbs over my knees, he stares at me, his gaze serious. “They are important to me. But you’re the center of my universe, Little girl. Got it?”
God, this man is so intense sometimes. One second, he’s carefree and smiling, and the next, he’s ready to take on the world for me.
“You can’t say stuff like that,” I whisper.
His fingers tighten on me. “I can if I mean it, and I do mean it, Chloe. Every single word. This might all be new to you, but I’ve had seven years of wanting you and not having you. Now I have you, and I’m never letting you go.”
Slowly, his hands move up my thighs, lifting the hem of my dress. I’m so distracted by the way he’s looking at me that I don’t notice as his fingers move over the first bump. As soon as they do, he looks down, and his entire face changes. Black storm clouds hover in his eyes as he pushes my dress higher before I can stop him. With each new line he sees, his rage becomes more and more visible until I’m so uneasy that I try to back off his lap.
It was inevitable that he’d see them eventually. I’d just hoped it wouldn’t be this soon. His hands grip my outer thighs, stopping me from moving another inch. I’m afraid. Not of him. He won’t hurt me. I know that. But I’m afraid of what he might think of me right now.
“Who the fuck caused all of these?” he grinds out between clenched teeth.
I close my eyes and try to keep the tears burning the back of my eyes from springing free. It’s hard to breathe, so I force myself to take several deep inhales before I answer, “I did.”
Keeping one hand on me to hold me in place, he moves his other and traces one of the lines with his index finger. His nostrils flare and his breaths come out in short, hard gusts. “I know you did them. What I’m asking is who the fuck made you feel like you had to slice yourself up to soothe the pain they caused?”
The lump in my throat has tripled in size. I shouldn’t say a word. It will only make things worse. I can’t lie to Bash, though. Even if I tried, he would know. He already knows the answer. He wants to hear it from me. I swallow and try to breathe through my panic as he continues to trace each line on the top of my thighs.
“Who, Chloe?” he whispers harshly.
“My father.”
14
BASH
“Are there more?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
My heart is pounding so hard it’s painful. My girl. My precious baby girl. How could this have happened? How could her own father treat her so badly that she had to take a razor blade to her skin to neutralize the pain?
My entire body vibrates with the need to slice his throat and watch with glee as he bleeds out in front of me. He deserves it. And he’ll get what’s coming to him. His death won’t be quick. I don’t give a fuck if he is her father. No one, and I mean no one, hurts my girl.
Seventeen lines.
All perfectly straight and evenly spaced. They aren’t fresh, thank God. Each one a representation of the pain she experienced. Each one a time in her life I wasn’t there to protect her. Never again. She will never feel this kind of pain again.
“Daddy,” she whispers softly.
