Chapter Twenty-Nine
Raine
This can’t happen in the bedroom. We both know it.
Asher leads me out to the main room and takes a seat on the couch. He watches me, his gaze scanning from my softly curling waves down to the new shoes. Everything is exactly what I would have chosen. Exactly what my body can tolerate right now.
My pulse is steady, but my hands haven’t gotten the memo.
I sit. The fabric of the new leggings is soft against my skin, a thin shield between my nerves and the memory of cold concrete. I press my toes against the soles of the shoes, grounding myself further.
“Rules,” I say. “You touch me. But only when and where I say. If I say stop—”
“I’ll stop.
I almost smile. “I know you will. But that’s—I mean— New rule. If I stay stop, you stop moving. If I say I’m done, you pull away.”
“Okay,” he says with a smile. “How do you want to start?”
That word—want—twists in my chest.
I rest my hand on the cushion between us, palm up. “Like this.”
Warmth meets me first. Then the weight of him—present, deliberate, no pressure, just the lightest resting of his hand on mine. My throat tightens. Not with fear, but with the shock of choosing something and having it answered gently.
“I’m right here,” he murmurs.
I nod without looking up. “A few more seconds…”
He doesn’t count. He doesn’t move. His stillness is safe. Appreciated.
When my pulse evens out, I nod, then slide my palm out from under his. “Okay. That was…good. Now…same pressure, but on my upper back. Between my shoulder blades.”
“Raine…”
“There’s no way to avoid the bruises there. I know.”
My heart is already pounding so hard, I worry it’s going to punch a hole in my chest. But this is the real test. The one that will tell me how broken I still am.
Asher nods, and I shift forward slightly.
When his palm settles over the space between my shoulder blades, a hard tremor runs through me. I brace for panic. For pain. For my vision to go glassy and someone to tighten the hood around my neck.
There’s only warmth. The bruises ache, but the longer his hand rests over them, the more the ache softens instead of sharpening.
Ten seconds. Twelve. Fourteen. My ribs stay quiet. My mind stays present.
“Still okay?” he asks.
“Yes.” My voice doesn’t shake. Neither do my hands. “It’s…nice.”
We don’t move for a long time. Long enough I forget I’m supposed to be grounding myself with my toes.
I still don’t have much sense of time, but five, maybe ten minutes pass? When I tell him I’m done, he lifts his hand immediately. The loss is…distinct.
It’s not absence or pain. More like the memory of where he was left an imprint on my skin.
“Lower now.” I can’t look at him. If I do, this moves faster than I’m ready for.
“You’re sure?” His voice is deeper now. Rough at the edges.
“Right above my waistband.” I glance up at him for just a beat. I need the data. What he looks like in this moment. What he sees from me.
His jaw flexes once. He’s holding himself still. His hand hasn’t moved from his thigh.
“Asher, I want this.” The truth of those four words settles deep in my chest. Along with shock. I shouldn’t want anyone to touch me after what I’ve been through.
His palm finds the new spot. Same contact. Same warmth. I only realize after he settles that I didn’t brace.
My breathing slows. It’s deeper now. More relaxed than it’s been in a long time. I map everything. The span of his fingers. The exact pressure he’s applying. The way I think he’s holding back. The slight shift of his thumb.
I wonder what it would feel like to have his arms around me. Not to stop me from falling. Not because I can’t walk.
A hug.
My pulse kicks briefly. No. Not that. Not yet. But…
“Can I—?” A flush spreads from my chest up to my cheeks.
Asher removes his hand, sitting up straighter, brows drawn tight. “What is it?”
“Can I touch you?”
His pupils widen, lips press together, and he swallows hard. “Yes.”
I let my gaze sweep over his body, finally landing on his forearm. He’s rolled up his sleeves, and the muscles shift as he flexes his fingers once on his leg.
My fingers hover just over the skin. Close enough I can catalog his warmth. And the way he stays perfectly still. Guarded. His body coiled tight enough he’s practically vibrating.
I close what’s left of the distance and let my hand rest on his arm. There’s a light dusting of reddish brown hair under my palm. A faint scar near where my thumb sits above his wrist.
A tremor ripples under my fingers, then stills almost immediately.
I slide my hand up his arm, tracking the change in his breathing with every inch. His shoulders go straight. Almost rigid.
“Do you need me to stop?” Panic spikes, clogging my throat until he shakes his head.
“Not unless you want to.” His voice is rougher now.
I reach the rolled up cuff of his shirt. I could keep going. Or…I could ask for something else.
Asher’s entire body reacts when I pull my hand away. It’s not dramatic. The opposite. An almost imperceptible shift closer, as if he wanted to follow me but stopped himself.
“Turn your hand over.”
His brows lift. “My hand?”
“Yes.”
He flips his hand palm up on his thigh. I stare at it. The calluses on his fingers. The creases cutting across his palm.
This…is dangerous. Not because I’m afraid of him. But because I’m afraid of what this changes. In me.
My fingers aren’t completely steady, but I lay them over his. Asher doesn’t move.
“Are you this controlled with everyone?” I ask.
“No. Just with you.”
The admission brings a fresh wave of heat, but this one lands deeper. Somewhere in the center of my body, where it pools and builds into a need that unsettles me.
I stare down at our joined hands. At the way his fingers are barely curled around mine. “You can hold on.”
He does. Gently. I don’t feel trapped. Or restrained. I feel…seen.
“Raine.” His voice is thicker now. “You don’t have to push yourself like this.”
I lift my gaze to his. Concern. Restraint. Want. The intensity in his eyes should scare me. It doesn’t.
“I’m not pushing. I’m choosing. There’s a difference.” My voice isn’t as steady now, but I’m still here.
Asher’s gaze drops to my mouth for a moment, then lifts. “All right.” His eyes crinkle slightly. “For the record, that wasn’t me asking you to stop.”
The laugh catches in my throat. “Noted.”
He shifts his hand slightly, adjusting so more of our palms press together. His thumb traces a slow arc across my knuckles. His grip isn’t tight. Just present. If I needed to, I could pull away.
I don’t.
“I’m here, Raine.” There’s a new edge to his voice. Like he’s fighting for control. “Whatever you need. I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to.”
He’s offering me stability. Patience. Choice. All the things they took from me.
“I’m not ready for more yet.” My eyes dart to his. “But it’s important you know I want to be.”
His jaw flexes, and for a brief moment, I see what he’s holding back. It’s not only desire. There’s a flash of relief in his eyes too. “I’d like that. But it’s your choice. Always.”
I nod, not trusting my voice. Because he’s given me more than I could ask for—space to want him without owing him anything. Permission to choose him at my own pace. Or not at all.
Asher
I lean back against the cushions, relaxing my grip slightly to give her the opportunity to pull away. She doesn’t. She follows my lead, shifting so her knee brushes my leg and stays there.
The contact sends blood rushing where it definitely should not be. My body’s fuse is worn down to nothing, and if I’m not careful, it’ll ignite.
“You choosing this—it means something,” I say. “I can’t pretend it doesn’t.”
She nods once, slowly, and I can practically see the gears turning in her head. How she arranges information, taking in everything as data, then adjusting.
“I don’t want you to.” Her fingers flex, then tighten on mine. “What they did…I’m still trying to sort through it. How it changed me.”
Her voice doesn’t shake. She’s in analysis mode. But there’s something underneath it that’s pure emotion.
“I’m bracing for something to knock me flat. Almost all the time.” She pins her gaze to our hands. “Except with you. And that…confuses me.”
I squeeze her fingers lightly. “If something shifts, we adjust. Separately or together or both. You don’t need all the answers right now.”
She huffs. “I don’t deal well with uncertainty.”
I chuckle, and she shoots me a sideways glance. “Then it’s a good thing I do.”