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CHAPTER 8
Hale
I’m a bastard for the way I tilt my face into the mess of curls flying everywhere around her head and take her scent into my lungs. The last time I was able to hold Piper in my arms, the grime of being held captive and sweat from her terror blocked the natural sunshine and sugar smell of her.
Since that day, I’ve done plenty of filthy things to keep her fragrance with me. Everything from sneaking into her hamper to steal the panties she’s worn to copying the soaps and lotions she uses so my shower smells like her. If there was a way to infuse my life with her essence that didn’t force me to completely break my vow to give her time, I’d done it.
“Piper, baby girl, I’ve got you. I promise nothing bad will happen to you ever again.” The world will have to come through me to get to her, and as long as there’s breath in my body, that’ll never happen.
There’s irony in the reality I’m quite possibly the bad thing she might have the most reason to fear, but I know what’s in my heart. I’ll only ever bring this girl security and adoration. We just need to get to a place where she can trust that.
Her fingers press between buttons on my shirt, little fingers deftly stroking against my skin as she fights to soothe herself. Nothing about this moment is sexual, but I’d have to be worm food to stop my body from reacting to her exploratory touch. Even if she’s hardly aware she’s doing it.
“I remember you.” Her nearly inaudible whisper flutters against the skin where my collar exposes my neck, and I’m helpless to suppress the shiver that wracks my entire body. My dream girl, the object of my obsession, is curled up on my lap like a sleepy kitten. It doesn’t matter how or what brought her to this moment, accepting my presence, because it’s here and so am I.
“Of course, you do, sweet girl. Your soul crashed into mine that day, and you’ve been part of me ever since. Even as out of it as you were, it’s natural that you remember me.”
Doe eyes look up into mine, searching for truth. I know she’s been let down by so many people in her short life, but I’ll never be one of them. I let her see my obsession and devotion, holding her stare without blinking, until she hiccups back a sob and buries her face against my chest.
“This can’t be real.”
“What about this feels less than completely real to you?” My hips press up while my hands press hers down against me, letting her feel the full extent of my very substantial erection. Even concern for her anxiety attack can’t keep the fucker from twitching as if it expects to manipulate its way through my pants to get to her.
“It feels unreal that I can be so comfortable with you. I don’t even know your name, but it feels like you belong to me somehow.” She’s wrong and right all at the same time.
“I do belong to you, Piper, sweet spitfire. More than that, you belong to me. Every minute of every day of my life, the things I’ve done, the places I’ve been, all of it is just a path to finding you.”
“Tell me what’s in the papers, and tell me who you are.”
I hold nothing back, giving her details and confessions that could bury me if my crimes came to light. Crimes that, for the most part, were facilitated to balance the scales and right wrongs. Still, illegal is illegal. I’ll keep no secrets from my spitfire. Without her, I may as well actually be buried.
With every secret I share, her hands grip me tighter. She moves from absently stroking her fingers between the buttons of my shirt to working the little circles through each hole until the edges part down the center of my torso. When I explain the assets I’ve placed in her name, Piper presses her palm flat over my heart and shifts her body until she’s straddling my lap instead of curled sideways over my legs.
The intelligent part of my brain warns that the sudden shift in her mood, from scared and anxious woman to cock-hungry vixen is dangerous. I don’t want her to have regrets from our first time together or to feel obligated to submit to me. My body wars with my mind, fighting to allow her free rein to have everything she wants.
Spoiling my precious spitfire is my life’s truest purpose, and I can’t very well do that if I start off by denying her now. It’s a rationalization, and honor, from some deep well inside myself, pushes forward to force words through the lips dying to claim hers.
“Piper, love, slow down. There’s no rush.” I don’t tell her she should stop, or that she doesn’t have to let me between these perfect lithe legs. It would be a lie. If she wanted to stop, I’d let her—of course, I would. I’m not a monster. But this obsession, this love, runs too deep to let her go forever without satisfying it. If she isn’t ready today, that’s fine. I can wait. Eventually, though, I’ll make her need me as much as I need her.
