Chapter 40
Chapter
Forty
NATHAN
Eight Months Later
The first thing I learned in medicine was how to listen.
Not just to words but the way they say them.
Is there hesitancy? Do they tense up even when they say they’re fine?
Do they trail off like they’re trying to keep themselves from saying something they don’t think they should?
And still, nothing could have prepared me for the way Thea speaks without saying anything at all, or how easily I understand her anyway.
She hasn’t let me touch her in months, and I don’t blame her for that.
I know she is taking things at her own pace and has finally taken her therapist’s advice on allowing herself to heal, even if she doesn’t feel like she has the right.
She’s sitting across from me now, in my newly organized office, the business that I built from scratch so people could heal.
People like Thea, like Dylan, and Claire.
And they are healing, all of them. I think Claire working for me has allowed her to address a part of herself that she’s seen in others and whether she is consciously aware of that or not, the way she carries herself is different.
Dylan will occasionally volunteer, and I somehow managed to convince Fletcher to work for me as private security.
There was discussion as to whether or not it was necessary, but considering the high risk clients we take in, we determined it was.
“You don’t have to look at me like that,” she says quietly before I realize that I’ve been staring.
“Like what?” I ask.
“Like I might disappear.”
I swallow, because that’s exactly it. “Can you blame me?” Thea has been the only one of the three girls who hasn’t returned to a sense of normalcy.
She tells me I don’t need to worry about her, but there’s nothing I can do to stop that part of me.
She’s everything I’ve ever wanted, and I want her to get everything she’s ever wanted out of life.
It pains me to see her struggling day in and day out.
She doesn’t answer right away. Her fingers twist together in her lap nervously as she weighs what to say. “I’m trying. But I told you, you have nothing to worry about.”
“I’m always going to worry about you, sugar.
” Especially when a few months ago I came home and couldn’t find her.
She wouldn’t answer her phone and her location was off, and fear unlike any I’d ever known struck through me as I began searching everywhere I could think of.
Eventually, I found her waist deep in a lake several miles from the house, looking up at the night sky like she was contemplating life.
And she was, in nothing but a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top in the cool night air.
She was shivering and covered in goosebumps but appeared to be completely unfazed.
Her face was tear-streaked like she had been crying but stopped directly before I got there.
She had no shoes and she certainly hadn’t driven there, either.
It didn’t take long for me to figure out what she was thinking and there were no words spoken between us as I pulled her out of the lake and into my arms, princess style, and walked all the way home.
There were no words as I ran a hot bath for her, washed her, dried her, and put her to bed.
It wasn’t until a week later that she told me what she was doing out there. We’ve come a long way since that night.
I stand up, walking to the couch she is sitting on, and ask, “Can I sit next to you?” I know I don’t have to, we share a bed every night, but I never want her to feel uncomfortable around me after what she went through.
She doesn’t answer me, just dips her chin in agreement, lost somewhere inside of her head.
I don’t say anything else until she’s ready.
I let her choose, always. Minutes pass before anything changes.
The clock that hangs above my desk ticks somewhere behind us and I keep my hands to myself, even though every part of me wants to reach for her.
Whatever she is feeling tonight isn’t something I’m going to push.
But then, her pinky brushes mine and she doesn’t pull away.
It’s a small gesture, and I shouldn’t be as happy as I am about it, because as I said we share a bed every night, but it’s rare she initiates any physical touch.
I take it slow, conjoining our hands fully until they’re molded, and lift them to my mouth. I press the faintest kiss to her knuckles. “What are you thinking about?” I finally ask when she doesn’t pull away.
Again, she doesn’t immediately respond, and for a moment I don’t think she will, but then she says, “I want you.”
“You have me, I’m right here.”
She shakes her head. “No, I mean I want you.” Oh. Oh. I’m not sure what I expected her to say, but it wasn’t that.
“Are—are you sure?” I stutter, trying to wrap my head around what this means as she nods.
I rest my forehead against hers as I pull myself closer, giving her time to pull back, but she doesn’t.
And when I finally kiss her, it’s slow. Careful.
A question, not a claim like in the past, and she answers it in kind.
I lean into her, wrapping my hand around the back of her head to deepen the kiss before I pause again.
I need to let her take this at her own pace.
But as soon as I do, she pushes me back into the couch and climbs onto my lap, never removing her lips from mine.
“Thea…” I groan through our combined mouths.
She’s subtly grinding herself against my cock as I harden, and it takes everything in me to hold back.
“These” —she grabs at my clothes as she breaks our kiss— “need to come off.” But I don’t move, still too afraid to scare her off.
She stares at me for a moment before climbing off of my lap and pulling me up to stand in front of her, as she starts to do it herself.
She starts at my waist, unhooking my belt and pulling my shirt up and over my head, before moving on to my shoes.
But before she has a chance to fully kneel down, I pull her back into me, capturing her lips in mine once more.
“Wait,” I say. “You deserve a bed for this.” I didn’t want our first time having sex since she was assaulted to be in an office, because she means so much more than that.
“And I want to break in your new couch, so that whenever you sit here, you think of me.”
My breath catches in my throat, taken aback at her boldness, but that unraveled whatever restraint I had left in me as I reach for her own clothes. “Let me know if you need me to slow down,” I whisper in her ear as I take her shirt off and discard it somewhere on the floor.
“When I said I want you, I meant all of you.” She doesn’t need to tell me a third time.
In record time, we have our clothes off and I’m taking in her naked skin as she stands in front of me.
Her wounds have long since healed, but her scar tissue remains.
A reminder of the hell she went through, but also of her strength.
She notices my eyes trailing her and she goes to cross her arms, like she’s ashamed, but I stop her.
“You’re beautiful, Thea. You don’t ever need to hide yourself from me.”
“But they’re—”
“Yours.” I cut her off. “They’re a part of you.
And I don’t want a version of you that’s been…
altered to something that’s easier to look at.
It isn’t easy, and it shouldn’t be. It’s proof of what you’ve been through and how you’ve survived.
It’s honest. And I’ll take honest over perfect every time. ”
Her eyes start to fill up with unshed tears and before they have a chance to fall, I take her into my arms again and lay her down on the couch.
She’s warm and soft beneath me and I trace her skin with my fingertips before fully settling between her legs.
Her heat immediately engulfs me and my cock twitches between us as we stare at each other.
I ask her the silent question and she smiles at me, giving me the go ahead.
I take it slow, inching myself into her pussy, letting her adjust to the stretch as her breath catches.
“This okay?” I ask, not wanting to hurt her.
“It’s more than okay,” she breathes out. I start to move, and the feel of her walls clenching around me nearly send me over the edge already but I inhale deeply, wanting to make this last. Wanting to make it good for her. Wanting to show her pleasure always outweighs the pain.
“More, Nathan. I need more.” She claws at my back, encouraging me to pick up the pace.
Soon, I have her legs over my shoulders and I’m taking her fast and deep, unable to stop myself.
Not needing to stop myself. Because this is what she wanted.
While I might be in control optically, she’s the one holding the reins.
I reach a hand between us, rubbing her clit, determined to get her to come before I do.
But I have a feeling this won’t be our first round tonight, and I’ll make sure that by the end of it, she’s a begging, panting mess.
We managed to make it back home before we were all over each other again.
Claire was out with a few friends that she had managed to make between enrolling back in school and working at the clinic with me, so we had the house to ourselves.
We had barely made it back to the bedroom before our clothes were gone again.
She didn’t waste any time shoving me onto the mattress and climbing on top of me, taking me all the way to the hilt as she rode me.
“Fuck,” I curse. “You’re perfect. Look at how well you take my cock. ”
She doesn’t say anything, only starts to ride me faster, chasing her orgasm. “Tell me you’re mine. That this pussy is mine.” I slap her clit. She yelps but she doesn’t stop.
“It’s yours, it’s always been yours,” she says as her walls start to tighten around me, and I know she’s close.
I let her use me in whatever way she pleases, relishing in the feel of her again after so long.
Relishing in the feel of the woman who belongs to me. Who has always belonged to me. With me.