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The number of days they’d known each other didn’t matter—he’d been with her almost constantly since the moment he’d saved her life. He’d held her as she wept as if her heart were breaking. He’d lain beside her the other night, knowing he couldn’t do anything else but hold her, but knowing, too, he would have given anything to take away her pain—no matter the cost to him. He’d rocked her to sleep last night, helping her drive off the demons that invaded her dreams. But she’d never given up. She was fighting for her life—her emotional life—just as much now as she’d fought to free herself physically years ago. From first to last she’d shown him nothing but unbelievable bravery. He knew her. Deep in his soul he knew her...and recognized she was the one.
He raised his hand and lightly brushed his fingertips against her cheek, then tucked her hair behind her ear. She didn’t flinch away, as she’d done the first time he’d touched her. And Liam knew this was the moment. It wouldn’t be the way he’d dreamed of making love to her. But if he had anything to say about it, it would be the way she’d dreamed of having a man make love to her when she’d been a starry-eyed teenager all those years ago—and still did. Secretly. With every romance novel she read. Totally for her. Nothing for himself, except the knowledge that he was freeing her from a nightmare that had never ended, not even when she escaped seven years ago. Because she was still in chains forged by her mind.
“Cate.” Just her name. Nothing more. But the color seeped into her cheeks at the intensity in his voice.
“It’s okay,” she whispered again, and this time Liam didn’t draw back, though he wanted to vehemently deny what she had to be thinking when she made him that offer. She honestly thought he could take her body and use it for his own selfish needs, as if he was no better than men who paid for sex or forced women against their will. But he couldn’t tell her different. He had to show her.
He started slow. And gentle. Stroking his fingers along the contours of her face so delicately she would feel it as the brush of butterfly wings. Whispering her name so she’d know he knew who he was with, who he was making love to. Showing her the wonder, the magic.
Her eyes drifted closed, and Liam took that as a good sign. That, and the soft sighs he knew she wasn’t aware of, but which told him he was definitely on the right track. Oh, sweetheart, he told her in his mind. We’re just getting started. There’s so much more to come. I’m going to make it so good for you, you won’t remember anything else. Just here. Just now. Just love. Sweet, sweet love.
He stood, still cradling her in his arms, and carried her back to the bed. Laying her down gently, then following her down and stretching out beside her. Letting her feel him hot and hard everywhere his body touched hers, but not holding her down. Not using his strength against her in any way.
He wanted to blurt out how much he loved her, explain that this experience was as new for him as it was for her, but he knew words were meaningless in this situation. The knight-errant in him assumed control of his body, his mind. Dictating what to do, where to touch her, and for how long. To maximize her pleasure. To leave her shuddering with the intensity love brought to lovemaking. To bring her to completion with just his hands. His lips. His heart.
He didn’t try to remove her clothes, sensing she needed that protection, that mental barrier. But his hands roamed her body lightly, caressingly. Letting her know what was coming next, and giving her the chance to object if he did anything she didn’t like. She didn’t object, and Liam said a little prayer of thanks. He would have stopped instantly if she grew fearful or showed any sign that what he was doing wasn’t right, but he didn’t want to stop. He had something to prove...to her.
He rubbed his cheek against her nipples—first one, then the other—and felt them bead in response beneath her pajama top. Then he suckled, dampening the material as he pulled both it and her nipple into his mouth. And knew by her response that she loved what he was doing, which encouraged him to go further.
He slid one hand beneath the waistband of her pajama bottoms and panties, but slowly. Again giving her time to protest what he was doing because he’d be damned before he did anything she didn’t want. When his fingers brushed lower her whole body tightened in panic, and he paused. Waiting.
Without removing his hand, he nuzzled her cheek. “It’s me, Cate,” unerringly discerning she needed the reminder.
She breathed his name, but endless moments passed before she relaxed. He didn’t immediately move his hand. Instead he kissed her behind her ear, then teased her earlobe with his tongue and teeth until she shivered with a response she couldn’t hide. Then and only then did he proceed.
