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I wasn't that girl.
But right then, I was.
"Penny..."
"I know," I said with a small nod as I tucked it behind his ear.
"You've been through some shit," he went on.
"I know."
"You don't know what you're doing," he added.
I felt the reality of that. He was right and wrong. I knew what I was doing. And I understood that it was unlike me and it was likely a response to the crazy course of events my life had taken and I was probably turning to him because he showed me kindness after other men offered me pain. I knew that. I knew that, after a day or two, I would look back on this moment in the dark and shake my head at myself, at being so needy.
But it didn't matter.
In that moment, what I needed was more comfort.
And I couldn't find the strength of will to deny myself that.
"Yes, I do," I countered.
There was a rumbling sound in his chest as I pressed mine against his, my hands sliding up his sides and going around his neck.
And I guess the shameless plastering of my form to his was about all he could take.
I expected a loss of control. Everything about him was so masculine, so primal. I thought kissing him would be no different.
But when one hand raised, it whispered up my thigh, my hip, then gently settled at the lowest point of my back where it was safe to rest. The other tickled up my arm, over my shoulder, then settled on my neck, his thumb under my chin, angling it up. Gentle. His touch was so gentle for someone so big.
His body curled, bringing his face closer to mine.
My breath caught as my eyes fluttered closed.
His warm breath was on my cheek and my fingers dug into the back of his neck.
He murmured something then. Something I knew I must have misheard because it didn't make sense otherwise.
Because what it sounded like was: too clean for me.
Then his lips sealed over mine and pesky things like thoughts fell away among the rush of feeling.
Like how his lips were both gentle, but firm. They pressed into mine, seeking a response that I readily gave as I angled my head up further as my lips came alive under his. I felt the tip of his tongue move out and touch my lips and my mouth fell open on a quiet whimper of need and he moved inside to claim me further. I pulled him tighter as my thighs pressed together tightly to try to ease the insistent throbbing there. My fingers moved up, tangling into his soft hair and tugging slightly when his lips closed over my tongue and sucked hard for a second. A moan escaped me and he released me to take my lips again, harder, hungrier, just shy of demanding.
Against my stomach, I could feel his hardness press into me and I felt the hopelessness of being too short. If only I were taller, it would nestle against me, press into where I needed it most. It could offer friction and relief.
His hands kept their positions, but his fingers curled and dug in as he pressed harder into my lips still, made them start to tingle, made the buzzing sensation wash over my skin until it was all I was, an electric current of need.
I whimpered again, louder.
And it was like the sound shocked him out of a stupor instead of drove him crazier as it should have.
His lips stayed on mine for a second, but gentled, lessened, for a long moment before they left mine completely.
My head fell forward onto his chest as I took a shaky breath that made my whole body tremble slightly. His hand moved from my neck to my upper back, closing over it the way it had when he held me through the stitches.
I don't know what I had been expecting.
But I was pretty darn sure it wasn't a kiss that made the world fall away, that made me more present, more attuned to another person than I had ever been before in my life.
My lips felt tingly and swollen still. My eyes felt too heavy to open. And when I breathed, I tried to do it deeply to pull in more of his scent.
"Penny," he said, his voice a little strained, a little less in-control than it seemed it usually was. "Get back in bed."
I took another breath, understanding.
He needed me to get away from him.
I had felt him rein himself back in when he had started to let go.
He was trying to protect me in a way.
And to do that, he needed me to walk away from him and give him the distance he needed.
I wasn't stupid.
Sex was not an option.
My ribs hurt. My back hurt. There was no position that wouldn't hurt even if I could overcome the knowledge that falling into bed with someone after a traumatic experience would only lead to regret.
