Chapter Seventeen
Justice
Sleep doesn’t come easy but tonight it’s worse. Every time I close my eyes, I see her face, the fear, the way she trembled when I touched her, the way she kissed me back even though I know it scared her to death.
I’m not proud of wanting her. Not after what she’s been through.
But it’s not just wanting. It’s something else. Something I don’t have a name for.
The clock on the wall ticks past one a.m. I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, boots still on, when a soft knock breaks the silence.
One. Two. Hesitant.
I’m at the door in two strides. When I open it, she’s there—barefoot, hair messy, wearing one of those oversized tees that swallow her entire frame. Her eyes look huge in the dim light of the hallway.
“Jet.” Her name comes out rough, scraped from somewhere deep. “You okay?”
She swallows. “Can I come in?”
I nod and step aside.
She moves past me, arms folded tight, shoulders trembling. I close the door and lean against it, giving her space.
“Couldn’t sleep,” she murmurs, voice shaking. “Every time I close my eyes, I see… them.”
Her breath hitches, and I can tell she’s fighting not to fall apart.
“Sit,” I tell her, keeping my tone low, steady. I move to the edge of the bed, keeping my distance. She sits and I settle beside her, close enough that I can feel her warmth.
For a while, neither of us says anything.
Then she whispers, “I don’t want to be scared anymore, Justice.”
My chest tightens. “You don’t need to be, not while I’m around.”
She shakes her head. “That’s not what I mean.” Her eyes meet mine, raw and vulnerable. “I want to feel safe again. I want to remember what it’s like to be touched and not—” Her voice cracks. “—not panic.”
I drag a hand down my face, trying to steady the storm inside me. “Jet…”
“I trust you,” she says quietly. “I just… need to try.”
Her words sink in as I dare to hope what I think Jet means. No more nights thinking about what it would be like to touch her, to feel her beneath me. I don’t move. I don’t breathe. Because this—this isn’t about sex. It’s about so much more for me and for her.
“Okay,” I murmur, reaching for her hand slowly, giving her time to pull away. She doesn’t. Her fingers slide into mine, hesitant but sure.
“Tell me what’s okay,” I say.
She nods. “Don’t move too fast.”
Smiling at her, I say, “Never do.”
We start with her hand resting against my chest, over my heartbeat. I keep my palm flat against hers so she can feel it. “No one’s gonna hurt you again.”
Her breath steadies, the tremor in her fingers eases a little.
When she leans in, I don’t take over. I let her set the pace. Her lips brush mine, softly. I match her, keeping it gentle.
No dominance. No control. Only connection.
She shifts closer, climbing onto my lap, trembling but determined. I wrap my arms around her waist, holding her carefully, like she’s made of glass.
Her forehead presses against mine. “I can’t tell if I’m shaking because I’m scared or because I want this.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I whisper. “We’ll stop anytime you say.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t stop.”
So we move slow. Clothes stay mostly on, touches light, everything about her.
It’s not about taking, it’s about giving. About letting her feel wanted without fear.
When she finally exhales, her body relaxing against me, I realize she’s not trembling anymore.
With care, I reach down and pull my T-shirt over my head. Jet’s fingers trail across the tattoos marking my chest, tracing lines of ink and old stories. The touch is light, hesitant, like she’s learning me by memory.
Leaning forward, I press a kiss to her neck. Jet exhales a shaky sigh.
Smiling, I do it again. She rocks against me, and my cock strains against the confines of my jeans.
I grip her ass and stand, taking her with me. Jet’s feet hit the floor, and she goes completely still.
“It’s okay, Jet,” I murmur, voice low against her ear. “It’s me. I will not hurt you. Ever.”
She nods, but I feel the trembling return.
“Let me make you feel good,” I whisper.
My hands drift down her arms, light as breath, until they find the hem of her T-shirt. I lean in and kiss her, soft at first, testing, then deeper when she parts her lips. My tongue brushes hers, and she gasps, arms looping around my neck as she melts into me.
No woman’s ever responded to me like this. The mix of fear and want, strength and surrender, does something raw to my insides.
While her mouth moves with mine, I ease the T-shirt over her head, tossing it aside before she can second-guess herself. Then I crush her against my chest, keeping her close so she doesn’t have time to panic or pull away.
Her eyes are wide when I draw back just enough to see her. I tilt her chin and kiss her again.
It takes only a heartbeat before she presses into me—body to body, breath to breath—and when she does, Jet comes alive in my arms.
Her fingers dig into my back, and a hiss of pleasure escapes me before I can stop it. But this isn’t about me. This is about her, it’s about helping her trust what touch can feel like again.
Her breasts press against my chest, soft and warm, and as my hands roam the curve of her waist, it hits me—she’s naked.
“Jet?”
“Mmh?” Her voice is small, hazy with nerves and something sweeter.
“One of us is wearing too many clothes, and it’s not you.”
Jet lets out a giggle, it’s light, unexpected, the sound cracks open something in my chest I didn’t know I’d locked away.
“Can you…” she pauses, biting her lip, “close your eyes?”
Leaning back, I study her face, the flush on her cheeks, the fear she’s trying to hide. “Why?”
She swallows hard. “I’m not ready for you to see me.”
“Right, right. Yeah, of course.”
I shut my eyes. Jet’s breath brushes my skin an instant before her lips do. She kisses my chest right over where my heart’s racing like a damn engine on redline. The soft press of her mouth sends a shiver through me, and then she does it again, slower this time, her breath warm against my skin.
Then the heat of her body is gone.
I fight the urge to open my eyes, to find her, but I hear her move—bare feet on the floor, the soft creak of the bedsprings as she climbs onto it.
“Justice,” she whispers.
“Yeah?”
“Open your eyes.”
I do.
She’s in my bed, sheets pulled up to her chin, hair falling wild around her face. Moonlight slips through the blinds, silvering her skin. She looks small and brave all at once, a contradiction that punches the air from my lungs.
“Jesus, Jet,” I murmur, raking a hand through my hair. “You trying to kill me?”
Her mouth curves just enough to tease. “Not tonight.”
Moving closer, I slow, sitting on the edge of the mattress. The springs dip beneath my weight, and for a heartbeat we just look at each other—the biker and the broken girl who doesn’t realize she’s the strongest one in the room.
“Still okay?” I ask.
She nods, the sheet rustling as she breathes. “As long as it’s you.”
Bending down, I tug off my boots and kick them aside. The room’s quiet except for the steady rhythm of our breathing.
When I straighten, she’s still watching me, eyes wide and unblinking.
Slowly, I unbuckle my belt. The soft clink of metal sounds loud in the silence. Then, I undo my jeans, pushing them down my legs.
Her gaze never leaves mine. Not once.
I should feel exposed—hell, I do—but when a shy smile curves her lips, the worry twisting in my gut eases. That smile tells me she’s still here, still with me.
Pride swells in my chest. Jet’s being so damn brave, facing her fear head-on.
And in this moment, I know she’s stronger than she thinks, and I’d burn the world down before I ever let anyone break her again.
“I want to see you,” I whisper.
Jet’s fingers tighten around the sheet, knuckles white. For a second, I think she’ll tell me no. Then she nods, it’s small, she trembles then closes her eyes.
Carefully, I grip the edge of the sheet and ease it down, slow enough for her to stop me if she needs to.
The breath leaves my lungs.
Cigarette burns, more than a dozen, mark her ribs. A thin scar cuts across her stomach, pale against her skin.
Rage flickers hot in my chest, but I shove it down. This moment isn’t about my anger. It’s about her bravery.
Despite the damage carved into her, she’s beautiful. Maybe more because of it. Every mark tells me she survived.
I swallow hard and meet her closed eyes. “You’re perfect, Jet. Every damn inch.”
Her eyes fly open, locking onto mine, wide and uncertain. She’s searching my face as if needing to know I mean what I say, if I still see her the same now I’ve seen everything.
Holding her gaze, I don’t flinch or show pity.
My hand trembles as I reach out, hovering over her stomach before I finally let my fingertips brush her skin.
She twitches, just barely, and I stop.
“Still okay?” I murmur.
Her lips part, and after a long moment she nods. “Yes… don’t stop.”
I trace the scars slowly and gently, memorizing every ridge and hollow. “They hurt you,” I whisper, voice low, almost a growl.
“They don’t get to anymore,” she says softly, eyes still closed.
That simple sentence makes my heart beat a little faster.
Leaning down, I press my lips to one burn on her ribs. Then another. Each kiss is a promise, I will worship her.
Her breath catches, and her hands find my shoulders, holding on like she’s afraid to fall apart.
“You don’t have to hide from me, Jet,” I tell her, moving up to kiss the hollow of her throat. “Not ever.”
Her eyes open again, glassy but fierce. “You make it sound easy.”
“It’s not,” I admit, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “But I’ll be here every time you need to remember you’re more than what they did.”
She lets out a shaky breath and cups my jaw. “Why are you so gentle with me?”
“Because you deserve it.”
The smallest smile ghosts across her lips, and I know I’ve done something right, something that matters.
Jet’s body fits against mine like it belongs there, and every sigh, every tremor is a piece of her taking herself back.
Jet sets the pace, never taking more than she gives. My hands stay on her sides, I don’t want to frighten her.
When she whispers my name, it’s not fear or pain this time, it’s trust.
And I know without question that this is what healing looks like.
Feeling bolder, I lay between her legs, my cock near her entrance, but I don’t slide in. This isn’t about me taking what I want but giving Jet what she needs.
Lifting up, I kiss my way down her body.
Jet shivers and gasps when my tongue slides between her folds.
Her body arches, and her hands tangle in my hair.
Gently, I suck on her clit, and she rocks her hips as I set the pace.
Jet uses my face, spreading her legs wider, her breathing is ragged.
I slide two fingers inside her and stroke as my tongue flicks against her clit.
“Justice!”
My name sounds like a prayer on her lips as she arches up and I press my fingers in deeper. Jet grinds into my face as I suck on her nub, and then I feel the pulses of her orgasm. Her body contracts around my fingers, so I lap and suck until every tremor leaves her body.
“That felt so good,” Jet purrs.
Slowly, I kiss my way up her body, tasting her skin. When I reach her lips, I press a soft kiss there, a promise more than a claim, then roll to the side to lie beside her.
My hand comes to rest on her breast, protective, but still possessive enough to feel real.
“What are you doing?” Jet asks, her voice small, curious.
“Watching you,” I murmur. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
Jet turns her head toward me, eyes searching. “But you didn’t finish.”
I brush my thumb across her collarbone and smile faintly. “That’s okay,” I whisper. “Tonight wasn’t about that.”
Jet shakes her head and slides over me, my cock is between her folds.
“You don’t have to,” I say with my hands on her hips so she can’t move.
Jet leans down, her breasts swaying, and whispers in my ear, “But I want to.”
She lifts up, grabs my cock and slowly slides down until she’s taken all of me.
“Fuck!” I hiss through gritted teeth.
Jet smiles and rolls her hips.
My hands move her, and I want to be gentle. I want this to be about her, but fuck me, Jet feels so good.
She sets the pace, and I watch her as she closes her eyes, neck arched as she rides me. Nothing has ever looked so fucking sexy.
“Jet,” I groan. “Let me move you faster.”
Her eyes open, and my cock is so hard, I know I won’t last long. Thrusting up, so I’m inside her as far as I can go, I dig my fingers into her hips and move her faster. Jet’s breathing becomes ragged, and as I press on her clit, she moans out my name.
The pressure of being inside her tight, slick pussy, seeing her ride me and shatter on my cock brings me to the edge. My balls tingle, and I thrust into her once, twice, three times then come undone. This woman is addictive. This woman is mine, and I hope she knows I am hers.
Morning creeps in pale and cold through the blinds.
Jet’s tangled against me, head on my chest, her breath warm on my skin. I’ve got one arm under her, the other draped protectively around her waist.
I don’t move. I barely breathe.
Because if I do, I might break whatever fragile peace we’ve found.
Her lashes flutter, and then she’s awake and instantly tense. She jerks upright, heart hammering, eyes wild until she sees me.
“It’s okay,” I murmur, voice low. “You’re safe.”
Color creeps into her cheeks, shame trying to take root where it doesn’t belong.
Jet looks down, then back at me. “I—I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“You needed it.” I reach across to the nightstand, grab the mug I made earlier, and hand it to her. “Coffee.”
She hesitates, then takes it, our fingers brushing. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me,” I say softly. “You don’t owe me a damn thing.”
Her lip trembles, but she hides it behind a sip. “You’re too good to me.”
I huff out a laugh. “You don’t know me very well then, and that coffee is probably cold.”
That earns a small smile, quick and fleeting but real.
Silence stretches between us.
Then she says, almost to herself, “For the first time in years, I feel… human.”
I reach out, thumb brushing her knuckles. “You are human, Jet. Stronger than most.”
She looks at me then, eyes glassy, and whispers, “Don’t make me regret this.”
“Not a chance,” I promise. “You’ve got my word, my loyalty… and maybe more than that.”
Her laugh is shaky. “Careful, Justice. That almost sounded like feelings.”
I grin. “Yeah, don’t tell anyone. You’ll ruin my reputation.”
Her smile lingers a little longer this time, and something eases inside me.
Whatever this is, whatever we’re becoming, it’s worth the risk.
Because she deserves a man who doesn’t take.
And I’m done being the man who breaks things he cares about.