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Oh, that nickname. Maybe it was ridiculous how cherished and protected it made her feel, but it always had. And it still did.
She released a shaky breath, completely incapable of answering, and instead gave a small, uncertain shrug. “I...I...”
He gently grasped her shoulders, his dark eyes concerned and kind. “Kenna, talk to me. What’s going on?”
This was it. She had to tell him. Only, she couldn’t find the words and she couldn’t make herself move. She needed him to command her. She needed him to make her.
“Tell me...tell me to give you...both of my hands,” she said, her voice a raw scrape.
He looked down at her left hand, still between them. “What?”
“Please. Griffin. Tell me.” God, she needed the order like she needed her next breath.
He released her shoulders and held out both of his hands, palms up. “Give me your hands, Kenna.”
She nodded. Then nodded again. And placed both of her hands in his.
***
For the span of a breath, Griffin couldn’t figure out what was going on.
And then her hands hit his. Except...
He looked down. For a second, he couldn’t process what he was seeing.
One hand of flesh, the other...a prosthetic? God, yes, that’s what it was, a prosthetic made of some kind of hard but lightweight black material.
“Kenna?” he asked, his heart suddenly a bass drum in his chest. Somehow, she’d lost her hand. And the idea that she’d been through something so traumatic and he hadn’t been there for her hit him like a baseball bat to the gut.
I should’ve fucking been there. I would’ve, if I—
She tried to pull away.
“Stop.” He barked out the command, because no way was he letting her hide herself. Not when he wanted to fight for the right to once again know—and maybe even possess—every part.
She froze and obeyed, but he could feel the tension rolling off of her.
And that was the first thing he needed to address. Gently grasping the hand she hadn’t wanted to show him, he guided her to the couch. “Sit with me.”
Truth be told, with the way his own head was reeling from the revelation, he needed to sit, too. He settled in the middle and pulled her down close, so that their thighs touched and he could hold her arm in his lap. Their movements made it clear that the artificial limb extended to her elbow, worsening that feeling in his gut.
What the hell had happened? And would it have happened if I’d claimed her like I should’ve?
He shoved the questions away, not because he didn’t care what’d happened to Kenna. He did. With everything inside him. But because his feelings about it weren’t what was important. Not in this moment.
When they were seated, he offered her a confession that he hoped evened the playing field of their vulnerability, at least a little. “Do you know how many nights I looked out into that audience and hoped I’d find you there as I did tonight?” Looking down, he traced his fingers over the black material of her hand. Carbon fiber, maybe?
“No, Sir,” she said, a tremor in her voice.
He nailed her with a stare. “All of them.”
She frowned as if confused. “But—”
He leaned closer. “All. Of. Them.”
Her gaze dropped to where he was still touching her limb. “I should’ve told you right away,” she blurted.
He heard what she wasn’t saying, and he wasn’t having it. “Are you under the impression that your amputation in any way detracts from my attraction to you?” Her eyes flashed to his again. “Because if you are, I’m telling you right fucking now that you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known in my whole goddamned life and nothing—nothing—could ever change that.”
Her jaw dropped open, but for the first time since she’d begged him to command her to reveal herself, fear became less prominent in her expression. Now, what he saw was surprise, doubt, and maybe even a little confusion. All of which his own behavior five years ago had no doubt put there. Damage he’d have to undo, piece by piece, if she’d let him.
“Um, okay,” she said.
“Tell me you hear me.” He arched a brow. All things considered, maybe he shouldn’t push, but he needed her to know this much. It took guts to come to a place like this and bare your body and your soul and your darkest, basest needs to others, let alone to do it when you feared you’d be rejected for any part of that. But she’d never have to fear that from him. Not again.
