Chapter 15
Chapter fifteen
Holly
I shut the bedroom door and just stood there for a second, heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.
The pajamas were safe. That was easy. He’d loved me in them, his whole face going soft, and I was learning how to be safe with Blake. But the black silk… that was different. That was grown-up, and scary, and I didn’t even know where to start.
I peeled the pajamas off, trembling all over, and folded them as neat as I could.
The silk felt so light in my hands, like it might disappear if I breathed too hard.
I ran my finger along the lace, the tiny pink bows.
I’d never owned anything like it. Mom would have thrown it out.
Said I was too soft, too round, too nothing.
“Perfect girls don’t wear things like that,” she’d sneered once, and the words stuck.
I wasn’t perfect. Not even close. But maybe that was the point.
I pulled the teddy on, careful not to rip anything. It slid over my skin like water, cool and slippery. The cups barely fit, lace stretching at the seams, and the hem didn’t even reach the tops of my thighs. I looked in the mirror and almost turned away, but I forced myself to look.
I looked ridiculous. Curvy and awkward, dark hair wild around my face, eyes too big.
The lace clung to every inch of me, making me look even softer, even smaller.
I hugged my arms around my chest, then let go, because I remembered what Gemma had said.
You get to be both. You get to be anything you want.
I wanted to be wanted, and Blake wouldn't have bought it if he didn't want me. Removing it carefully, I rushed to the bathroom and got clean, then carefully redressed.
I tried to fix my hair, but the curls just bounced back. My cheeks were bright red, and my mouth wouldn’t stop trembling. I pressed my hands to my face, just breathing for a second. I could do this. He’d said he wanted all of me. Even this part. Especially this part.
I reached for Banjo, then hesitated. I didn’t know if it was silly to bring him, but I needed something to hold onto, even if it was just pretend bravery. I hugged the bunny close, then set him on the bed, promising I’d come back.
The hallway was dark, the only light spilling from under the living room door. My feet were bare. I padded down the hall, every step making me more nervous, more desperate. I could hear Blake, the sound of his voice as he talked to Biscuit. Safe. Always so safe.
I stopped at the edge of the living room, heart in my throat.
He was sitting on the couch, looking at his phone, but the second he saw me, everything went still.
He didn’t smile. Didn’t move. Just stared, hard, like he was trying to memorize every inch of me.
I almost ran, right then. My legs wanted to run so bad it hurt, but I made myself walk in, arms by my sides, lace and silk and skin on full display. My face was burning.
Blake put his phone down, slow. He didn’t say anything, but his hands curled into fists on his knees. His eyes traveled from my bare legs all the way up. It was like I’d knocked the breath out of him. All that focus. Every inch of me hot and prickly under the lace.
He didn’t say anything. Didn’t move.
And I just stood there, shaking, wishing I could be anywhere else but here, and also wishing he’d just…do something. Look away, say it was too much, laugh. I could have handled that. Expected it, even.
But he just kept staring. Like I was something precious. Like he couldn’t look away.
I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hide the worst bits. The way the lace pulled at my hips. The way my thighs bulged over the hem. I wanted to cover up. I wanted to run. I wanted him to touch me so bad I thought I might die from it.
I didn’t even realize I was crying until the first tear hit my cheek.
He stood up then, slow and careful, like he was afraid if he moved too fast I’d bolt. His hands were still clenched. His jaw was sharp, eyes even sharper.
“Come here,” he said. Not a question.
I couldn’t move.
He crossed to me in two strides. Big, broad, so much taller than me. He didn’t reach out. He didn’t touch. He just stood there, letting me feel how much space he took up.
“You’re shaking.”
I nodded, because I couldn’t trust my voice.
“You’re not in trouble,” he said, softer now. “But I want to know if you’re scared. Tell me the truth.”
I swallowed. “I’m not scared of you.”
He let out a breath. I saw his shoulders drop, just a little. “What are you scared of?”
I stared at the floor. “That you’ll laugh. Or change your mind. Or tell me to go put the pajamas back on because this is wrong.”
He made a low sound, almost a growl. “Look at me, Holly.”
So I did.
His eyes were so blue it hurt to look at them.
“You think I don’t want you?” He shook his head, then reached up, slow, and brushed his thumb over my cheek where the tear had landed. “You have no idea, baby girl.”
I nearly sobbed at that. “But I’m not like Amanda. I’m not… I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be what you want.”
He smiled. Not big, but real. “Amanda wore silk and heels and made it look easy. But she never wanted me. Not really. She never let herself need anything, and above all I need to be needed so badly. And that’s the last time we’re ever gonna mention her ever again.”
He stepped even closer. The heat coming off him made me dizzy. “I want you. All of you. The part that needs teddy pajamas and the part that needs this.”
He traced his finger along the edge of the lace, not quite touching skin. My breath hitched.
He leaned in, so close I could feel his breath on my face. “You’re beautiful,” he said. “You’re perfect. I want you so bad I can’t even think straight.”
I made a noise, The way he touched me didn’t feel anything like careful, but it was. Every move was slow, deliberate. Nothing rushed. He was so big and I was so not. My heart thudded so loud I was sure he could hear it.
He didn’t kiss me at first. He just touched my face, thumb gentle on my cheek, then along my jaw. His hands were shaking, which made no sense. He was always so steady. “You sure about this?” His voice was thick, a little rougher than usual.
I nearly lost my nerve right there, but I nodded. “Yes. Please.”
He closed his eyes for a second, like he was holding himself together, then leaned in and kissed me.
Not soft. Not tentative. It was the kind of kiss that made my knees buckle, even though I was already standing right in front of him.
I clung to his shoulders, silk and lace and bare skin pressed between us, and it felt…
right. More right than anything ever had.
“You’re perfect,” he whispered. “You know that?”
I shook my head. I didn’t know. Not even a little. But I wanted to.
He kissed me again, slower this time, then trailed his lips down my neck, his hands moving so carefully over my back, along the edge of the lace. Every nerve ending felt like it was on fire. My breath kept catching. I couldn’t stop trembling, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured, mouth close to my ear.
“I know.” I tried to laugh, but it came out more like a sob. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” His hands found my waist, fingers splaying over my hips. “You can stop me anytime. Just say the word.”
I wasn’t going to. Not even if my legs gave out. The thought of him stopping was worse than the nerves.
He lifted me before I could even think to protest, just scooped me up like I weighed nothing.
My arms locked around his neck. I could feel the muscles in his arms, the heat of his chest through his shirt.
He carried me to the bedroom and set me down on the edge of the bed, then knelt right in front of me.
“Look at me,” he said. When I did, he smiled, real and soft. “You’re beautiful.”
My face burned. I didn’t believe him, but I wanted to.
He traced his finger along the edge of the teddy, just barely touching skin. Every place his finger found made me shiver. “If you want to stop, you tell me.”
“I don’t want to stop,” I said. It came out shaky, but true.
He got up and sat next to me, strong arm curling around my waist. His hand skimmed my thigh, careful, not pushing, just letting me get used to the idea. He kissed my shoulder, then my collarbone, then the hollow at the base of my throat. I felt every single one all the way down.
He let me set the pace. I didn’t even know how to start, but he made it easy.
He didn’t take my clothes off right away, just let his hands learn the shape of my body, slow and careful, like he was memorizing every inch.
I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to. If I did, I’d lose the feeling of his hands on my skin.
He kissed me again, deep and hot, and I could taste the want on him.
My whole body went tight. I didn’t know what to do with my hands, so I clung to his arm, fingers digging into his shirt.
He didn’t mind. If anything, it made him bolder.
He traced the straps, then the line of my shoulder, then down my spine, just barely touching.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered against my neck.
“It’s not,” I gasped. “Please don’t stop.”
He groaned, low and rough, and his hands went to my waist, then lower, cupping my hips so gently. It was so gentle it made me want to cry, but he just held me like I was precious, like every curve was something he’d waited his whole life for.
He didn’t tear the teddy. He peeled it off, slow, like unwrapping a present he’d wanted for years. I was shaking, but it wasn’t fear. It was relief, and hope, and so much wanting I thought I’d burst open.
When I was bare in front of him, I tried to cover myself, but he stopped me with a touch. “Don’t,” he said, voice ragged. “Let me look.”
I almost sobbed. No one had ever wanted to look. Not really. But he did. He looked at every inch, every scar, every patch of skin I’d always hidden.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said. “I want you more than I want to breathe.”