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Tears spill down my cheeks, and I don’t bother to wipe them away. I just let them fall and land on the towel.
Earlier tonight, after Aziah was done with Mr. Masters, a huge weight lifted from my shoulders. I didn’t realize until that moment that I was still scared of him. That he still held such power over me. It was oddly liberating seeing him suffer and watch the life drain from his eyes.
Once Aziah and I were in the shower, I knew I was ready for the next step. I’ve been sexually abused for over half of my life, and I know most people would probably need more time before even thinking about becoming intimate with a man. But I’ve always felt safe with him. I know he would stop if I needed him to. I know he would never hurt me. I have absolutely nothing to fear with him.
I know he feels something for me. Something more than just friendship. I can see it in his eyes when I catch him looking at me. I felt it in his trembling hands as he was washing me tonight. He’s holding back because of his misplaced guilt and his worry that I’m not ready.
I jerk my head around when the bathroom door opens, and he comes out wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. Our eyes meet, and I’m sure I look like a mess with my eyes red and swollen. His expression contorts painfully, and his legs carry him over to me. He drops to his knees in front of me, his black eyes pleading. I suck in an agonizing breath when I see the tears forming in his eyes.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” he chokes out. “I’m sorry I’m so fucked up. I’m sorry I can’t be who you want or give you what you want. I’m sorry I’ve hurt you, over and fuckin’ over again. I’m sorry my father hurt you. And Marco and Gabriela. And that you hurt yourself. I’m so goddamn sorry about everything, Rella.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I wish I could go back and change things. I wish I had been strong enough to do it back then.”
My heart drops to my stomach at the pure agony in his words and the way his eyes are glazed over in torment. Before I can reach for him, his head drops to my lap and his arms band around my waist, squeezing me so tightly it’s almost painful. Excruciating pain radiates off him in thick waves. I feel so helpless as he shudders against me, his cries silent but no less meaningful. I hate seeing him so torn up and broken.
I run my hands soothingly over his back, hoping I’m giving him the comfort he so desperately needs. I don’t know what to do to help him. I don’t know how to take away his pain.
We stay just as we are for several moments, his arms still wrapped around my waist and shaking. I feather my fingers through his hair, then grip the strands in the back and gently pull his head up so I can see his face. The devastation in his eyes sears my soul.
“Do you love me?” I ask, my voice raw with emotion.
“You know I do.”
“No.” I shake my head and elaborate, needing him to understand. “Do you love me more than just a friend?”
His Adam’s apple moves up and down as he swallows. “With everything in me.”
The pain in my heart lessens.
“If we didn’t share the past that we do and we were just a man and a woman, would you want to be with me?”
“I’d never fuckin’ let you go.”
The way he says those words, the conviction in his tone, I have no doubt they’re true.
“Would you ever hurt me?”
“Never!” His words are fierce.
Leaning forward, I rest my forehead against his, staring deep into his eyes.
“I love you,” I whisper.
His eyes slide closed, and grief crawls over his expression. He opens them again, scorching me with his intense anguish.
“Do you think I deserve the love of a man?”
“Yes.” His voice is strained.
“Do you want me to be happy, Aziah?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
“More than anything.”
I breathe in a calming breath. “More than your guilt?” Before he can open his mouth to say anything, I lay a soft kiss against his lips. “You make me happy, Aziah. Only you. You’re my best friend, you make me feel safe and protected, you make me feel cherished and beautiful. There’s no other man out there that could make me feel the way you do. I want to be a normal woman who’s free to love a man in every way possible and have him love me the same way. But I only want those things if I can have them with you. No one else would do.”
His hands twist against the towel at my lower back, and the way his brows dip low, I know he’s thinking.
“I’m afraid,” he whispers his fear.
“Of what?”
