Page 279 of Faking the Goal

I hold her tighter, but not too tightly. Never enough to make her feel trapped.

Her face disappears against the side of my neck as I step out of the tub, and I feel the uneven warmth of her breath against my skin. She is still trembling. Not as violently as before, but enough that every small shiver passes straight through me. I wish I could take them from her. I wish I could reach inside her mind and tear out every memory he left there, every image that makes her flinch from her own body, every cruel lie he planted in her head.

But I cannot erase what happened.

All I can do is carry her through it.

"I've got you," I murmur as I walk us back toward the bed. "You don't have to hold yourself together right now. Let me do it for you."

Her arms tighten weakly around my neck.

I lower her onto the mattress as though she is something precious enough to break beneath careless hands. Before I can pull away, her fingers clutch at me, panic flashing across her face at the sudden distance.

"Don't," she whispers.

The sound tears through me.

"I'm not going anywhere." I climb onto the bed beside her and gather her back into my arms. "I'm right here."

She presses herself against me, searching for warmth, for shelter, for anything that might make her feel as though she is still inside her own skin. I cradle the back of her head and kiss her temple, then the corner of her eye where another tear has gathered.

"You are not broken," I whisper against her damp cheek and she lets out this whimper that makes my chest cave in.

I want to take her pain and swallow it down so it can't touch her anymore. My hands slide over her ribs, feather-light, tracing the tremors beneath her skin, not to claim but to offer, to remind her she still belongs to herself.

"You hear me?" I kiss the next tear before it can fall. "He did not break you."

"Ken-chan..."

Her lips parted, trembling, and I don't wait for her to speak. I crash my mouth onto hers like I'm starving for her taste, my tongue sliding against hers in a slow, wet rhythm that made her moan softly into me. My hands moved down, gripping her shoulders, then her waist, pulling her closer until our bodies are fucking glued together. I can feel every inch of her—the way her tits press against my chest, her nipples hard and desperate, the heat between her legs radiating like a fucking furnace.

I break the kiss, panting.

"He hurt you." My voice strains around the words, rage burning beneath them, but I force it down. She does not need my anger tonight. She needs something steady. "He terrified you. He made you feel powerless. But none of that changed who you are."

My words are low, almost a growl, and she shudders against me, her breath hitching.

"Nothing he did changes that. He doesn't own a single atom of you. Not now, not ever." My words are rough at the edges, but she shudders like they're the only thing keeping her upright.

"You're so fucking strong, Trouble. So fucking strong." My mouth trails down the side of her neck, lingering over the frantic beat of her pulse before I suck gently at the tender skin there, leaving behind a darkening mark that will remind her of this moment long after it is over.

A sob escapes her, soft and broken.

Her eyes squeeze shut, her face tightening as though the memories are forcing their way back in, dragging her somewhere I cannot follow. I lift my head immediately and cup her face between my hands, pressing kisses everywhere I can reach—her trembling eyelids, her wet cheeks, the corners of her mouth—trying to call her back with every touch.

"Stay with me, baby," I whisper against her skin. "Don't go back there. Just look at me."

Her lashes flutter, but she keeps her eyes closed.

I kiss beneath one eye, catching the tear that slips free, then move to the other. "Come on, Trouble. Open your eyes for me."

Slowly, she does.

"There you are." I brush my thumb across her damp cheek, holding her gaze so she has something here to cling to. "Stay with me and tell me what you need."

"I need you."

The words nearly undo me.