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A fucking mess.
I’m used to that by now. Being in her space doesn’t make anger graze through my chest like clutter normally does to me.
This space feels sacred and lonely, and something about it calls to the solitude within my own soul. I’ve always watched her from the outside. A little window above her bed has an overgrown bush that I spend most nights tangled in.
But tonight, I’m here. With her. It’s strange being on the inside of her life. I never thought I would be.
I carefully take her to her bedroom and set her against the mattress. I stare down at her with a crease between my brows. Her dress is bloody, and her underwear is torn and tangled around one thigh.
The idea of that asshole touching her shakes through my entire body on barely contained rage. I look away from her destroyed clothes, and it’s an invasion to touch her further, but I have to wipe away the memory of this night from her mind.
My single broken rule screams at me from the back of my mind:Do not touch her!
And now I have to undress her.
Fuck!
I turn away from her and take a slow, steady breath. I can do this. It’s not a big deal. It’s not going to mess with my feelings and my overly possessive thoughts when it comes to this girl.
I push open the thin bifold door to her closet. It’s pathetic. It’s a space so small, a gym duffle bag wouldn’t fit on the floor. It’s practically bare, too, and my palms itch as I resist the urge to order her a whole new wardrobe. Would she appreciate that gesture too? New clothes. The kind she likes. The kind that hug every dip and curve and roll of her body. Fuck, she can fill out a sundress.
I look back at her motionless body on the bed and quickly avert my roaming eyes.
My fingers clasp around a pajama set that I haul over to the bed. Will she wake if I touch her? Will she wake with my fingers roving across her perfect skin?
The urge to feel her against me spikes in my chest. Her naked body against mine flashes through my mind, my cock burying inside her while her lashes flutter open with sudden ecstasy. She’d breathe that sexy sound of surprise on full lips, and it’d be a demand for me to pull myself from her wet cunt. She’d moan around the slickness of my shaft when I shoved into her mouth and down her throat.
How the fuck am I supposed to do this?
I swallow past the dryness of my tongue and reach for her boots, slowly unlacing them with my eyes focused on the pulse at her neck, waiting to see some change. Nothing happens through the whole methodical process of removing her articles of clothing one by one. Boots, socks. I pull the panties down her thighs and try not to think about my blood pulsing straight to my cock as I do so. I try to be clinical about it. I try not to stare too long at the smooth expanse of her skin. At the thin dress barely covering the space between her thighs.
The urge to bury my face there grips me, but I get ahold of myself as I strip away the ruined dress. Focus. This isn’t sexual. She’s just a girl.My girl.
No.
Fuck.
I toss the dress and her clothes to the side, shoving my hand down my face as a reward for getting past the hard part of the situation. When I open my eyes, the torn fabric of her panties is glaring back at me like a siren going off in the middle of this room.
Evidence.
If she wakes and finds those... God, that motherfucker just caused so much stress to her. What if this sets her back emotionally like the years after the incident with her mother? I lunge for them and grab the underwear and shove them into my pocket to keep for her. She doesn’t need the memory of what happened tonight hanging over her head as soon as she wakes up. She needs time to adjust. I can give her that time. I can give her anything she needs.
She barely stirs as I redress her in soft pajamas, holding my fingers back from pressing too hard against her curves. The shorts make her thighs look sexy and soft, cinching her figure just right while the top hugs her breasts perfectly and reveals a few inches of her stomach just beneath the curve of her...
Focus.
When I’m done, I look at her pulse, jumping steadily at her neck. My fingers wrap around it, but I put no pressure there.
It’d be so easy to end everything now. To rip the soul from her body and maybe with that, this obsession cleaving through my mind as well.
But...
I can’t.
The easy solutions are never the right ones.
And I don’t fucking want to. Even if it is my job.
