20. Chapter Twenty #2
Her hands come out to stop me. “Don’t diminish this, Carson. I know I don’t owe you …” her voice catches, “but I do owe it to myself.”
She knows her own mind better than I do. If she says she’s ready, I have to trust her. I untie my robe, letting it fall to the ground.
Her eyes don’t leave my face.
“I’ve never been with anyone,” she admits quietly.
For a brief moment I feel bad that I can’t offer her the same, but this is the way life unfolds. “That’s okay. I’ll be with you every second of the way.”
“I hear that’s the way it works,” she says, stifling a laugh with the back of her hand.
“Oh, someone wants to be cheeky, does she?”
I walk straight over to her and cradle her face in my hands, kissing her with all the passion I’ve been holding back.
“Tell me you want me to make love to you, and I will show you just how much love I have to give.”
She looks at me with an awakened hunger in her eyes. “Make love to me, Carson.”
I pick her up in one smooth motion and climb with her onto the bed. I kiss her as I lay her in the center of it. “You’re so beautiful,” I whisper into her hair as I slowly slide my hands down her body.
Hesitantly, she reaches between us, wrapping her hand around me. I watch her face and realize this is harder for her than she’d like to admit. Her eyes are squeezed tightly closed, and tears are slipping from the corner of her eyes.
“Luna, look at me.”
She shakes her head in the negative.
I rise from the bed as sobs break free from between her lips. I put my robe back on and grab hers from the floor. Gently, I help her back into it.
Her hiccupping cries are killing me.
I slide into bed and pull her close. “It’s okay, Luna. It’s okay.”
She shivers a few times before relaxing against me.
“I thought I was ready,” she whispers, her words broken and barely audible.
“We just moved a little too fast. It’s okay to slow down. Do you want me to go?”
“Do you want to go?”
Her not answering my question doesn’t come from wanting to please me. It comes from a place of insecurity. I know she wants me to stay. “No,” I answer honestly.
“I want you to stay,” she says, curling her fingers into the front of my robe.
The next morning, I wake to her ordering breakfast from the phone on the bedside table. She smiles at me, and I instantly relax. I was worried that last night would linger into today.
“Pancakes,” I say, stretching my arms above my head.
She gives me a thumbs up.
When she puts the phone down, she points to the windows. “Isn’t it incredible?”
I can barely take my eyes away from her, but I somehow manage.
The world beyond is foggy and dreary, but here inside this room, the sun shines so fucking brightly it makes my head hurt.
“The view inside is more breathtaking,” I say, turning my attention back to her and placing my hand at the base of her throat. I pull us nose to nose. “Good morning.”
Her big dark eyes blink at me, and her lips part. “Good morning.”
I close my eyes and kiss her, exactly the way I did last night, holding nothing back.
“I’m sorry about …” She wrings her hands and I can tell she feels awkward about what happened. I don’t want that.
“Hey, there’s nothing to be sorry about.”
The lines around her eyes soften and she relaxes a bit.
After she fell asleep last night, I texted my uncle Jackson, explaining what happened. Normally, I would have talked to Cole. Anyway, he assured me I handled everything properly, but he also told me not to hold back.
Everyone has limits. Hers are no different. He told me to pay attention, listen to what she’s telling me, and let her set the pace.
That might be hard to do, but at least I know she trusts me enough to tell me when something isn’t right.
After I’ve kissed her good morning thoroughly, I lean back against the pillows and pull her with me. She rests her cheek over my chest, curling up under my chin.
For the next few days, she’s here with me, but she’s lost in deep thought. We’ve had separate beds, but every morning, I wake to find her next to me.
I watched her cry as she stood on the northernmost tip of Ireland, waves crashing against the rocks below, yet she still lifted her face to the sun and smiled.
Today, she laughed with a shopkeeper of an oddities shop despite the sadness I know she’s carrying. I can tell she’s working through something, but she’s still moving forward. It just pains me I can’t do more to help.
Lately, I’ve been leaning on people in my family I normally wouldn’t. My mom, Kelsie, and I’ve even called Grandma Maggie.
I needed a woman’s assurance that I’m doing the right thing, but sometimes it doesn’t feel that way. I often wonder if this thing between her and me is hurting her. Mom assures me that her quietness doesn’t mean she’s going backward.
Then one day, while waiting for the sun to set behind the Wicklow Mountains in a place called Glendalough, Luna finally lets me in. She hugs her legs to her chest, watching the ducks dip their heads below the surface of the water, and I brace myself for whatever she’s about to say.
“My father used to come into my room at night.”
Even though I already knew what had most likely happened to her, hearing it directly from her fucking hurts.
“I’ve never told anyone this,” she continues quietly. There are no tears as she pushes on, telling me everything she’s never admitted out loud.
I listen quietly, and when she pauses, I take her hand, letting her know I’m with her. I don’t think she necessarily needs me to say anything.
“Anyway, I don’t want you to think I haven’t healed from all of that.
I have.” She watches my thumb rhythmically brush over the top of her hand.
“But I’ve never met anyone I wanted to be intimate with, and …
” her gaze sweeps over the water, “I guess I didn’t know that my body hadn’t forgotten what he did to me. ”
There are plenty of people who have suffered trauma in my club.
We aren’t a family who hides things from each other …
for the most part. And Luna’s brother shared his personal story of his relationship with Luna’s father.
I’ve heard stories like hers before. I’ve seen what one person’s cruelty can leave behind in another.
But I’ve never loved someone standing on the other side of it.
What the fuck gave that bastard the right?
I’m fuming inside, but on the outside I remain calm. She needs me to be a sturdy place for her to land right now.
He is gone and dead, but she’s still here suffering the consequences of his actions. And she’s been doing it alone.
Not anymore.
I don’t care if we never have sex. I hope that’s not the case—not for me, but because I want her to have every kind of intimacy she wants for herself.
Luna is offering me something more sacred than her physical body. She’s baring her soul and trusting me not to run from it.