Chapter 15 KATIE #2
“éabha knows,” he admits. “She was there when it happened.” He runs the conditioner through my hair gently, his touch soothing and comforting.
“We didn’t say anything; it was written off as an accident, and we decided to keep it that way.
” He smirks, adding, “I got the nickname “Quiver” in school because I was jittery as fuck for weeks afterwards.” His eyes flick to mine, looking for any signs of fear or judgement. “You must think I’m a monster.”
“No,” I whisper. “I think I understand better than most.”
He snorts, “You never killed one of your parents, Katie.”
“No,” I admit, “but I know what it’s like to want to.”
His smirk fades, his bright eyes darkening as he looks into my eyes for as long as I can force myself to hold his gaze. “Did they hurt you?”
“Yes,” I confess. “But they’re not the ones responsible for the scars or the tattoo.” I grab the shampoo from the shelf and create a lather in my hand.
“Tell me,” he begs as I work my hands through his hair and massage his scalp. The warm water cascades down his back, mixing with the suds.
“You’ll run,” I worry my lower lip between my teeth, unsure if I should reveal the truth. “Everyone always runs.”
“I won’t run,” he assures me, grabbing me around the waist and pulling me closer. “I’m not that easily scared away.”
“There wasn’t just one incident, Aiden,” I fight to stop my lip from wobbling.
“Then I’ll dig multiple fucking graves.”
I actually think he means that.
“Tell me, Katie,” he pleads, his eyes searching mine for answers.
Something inside me snaps—something very fucking dark and painful.
“What do you want to know, Aiden? I grew up with two raging alcoholics who made my childhood a living hell. Someone I thought was a friend forced me into giving him a blowjob before I was ten. I was groomed by another two “friends” before I hit puberty. I was raped in broad daylight at the age of fifteen, and two women saw it happen and just carried on fucking walking! That I denied a three-way with another “friend” and her fiancé, and they got me so plastered that I woke up the next morning in a puddle of my own puke with little to no memory of what happened. I have never been able to achieve climax with a partner because the trauma and abuse I endured have left my body so horribly scarred. I’ve never been able to enjoy sex, even when I wanted it, because my body shuts down.
Is that what you want to fucking know, Aiden?
” Tears flow down my face as quickly as the rain from the shower head.
“I’m a lost cause! I’m broken! You should find somebody else to save, Aiden, because there is no saving me. The damage is already done.”
My instinct is to flee, but try as I might, Aiden won’t let me pass.
His nostrils flare, his jaw tics, and he looks about ready to combust.
I try to move again, but he catches me, spinning me until my back hits the cold tile wall.
His grip on my arms tightens, but his voice remains surprisingly calm.
“I’m not running, Katie. I’m not even fucking flinching.
Do not run from me,” he begs. “Firstly,” he swipes the tears spilling from my eyes.
“I cannot change what happened, and neither can you. But if you can give me the names of those bastards, I promise you they’ll never see another fucking sunrise. ”
“I—”
“I cannot take away your pain, bug, and it kills me. But I can promise you that no one will ever hurt you again as long as I’m around.”
“Why do you want me?” I demand, my voice trembling.
“I’m a mess! I’m covered in tears, and,” I swipe at my nose and see a glistening trail of mucus running down my hand.
“And snot!” I tip my head back and bang it off the wall.
“Ow,” I mutter, rubbing the burning spot at the back of my skull.
“Did I not tell the story right? Why are you still here? You should be tearing arse down the street.”
He smiles, and the bastard actually grins at me as if I’m an adorable little puppy who just sneezed and made a funny face.
“Normal is overrated.”
I make a rude noise with my tongue and accidentally spit in his face.
He wipes the spit from his face with a chuckle.
I think he says something, but I can’t be too sure. I’m busy burying my face in my hands and praying that the shower tray grows a mouth and swallows me whole.
“Bug?” I feel his hands on me, but I’m too mortified to peek out from beneath my fingers and see what he’s doing.
I hear the click of my shower mousse being squeezed out, and then his hands are on my body again, massaging the foam into my skin with gentle strokes. As the embarrassment slowly fades, I tentatively lower my hands and meet his reassuring gaze. “I’m not a hot mess; I’m more like a dumpster fire.”
“Hey,” he grabs my jaw, leaving a slick trail of shower mousse on my cheek, “don’t talk about my girl like that.” His lips fuse with mine in a slow, gentle kiss.
I glance down, taking in Aiden in all his glory. “You weren’t kidding when you said you weren’t a shower.” My eyes flit up, meeting his gaze. “I think he’s afraid of me. You’ll never pop a boner again.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he smirks, watching me spray the mousse into my hands and work it into his chest. As my hands trail down, I notice some movement down south.
“Oh!” Fucking hell, that thing just about tripled in size.
“Looks like someone’s not so afraid after all.” His hand slides around the back of my head, and he pulls my lips to his.
We finish up, and he turns the water off before wrapping me in a large, fluffy towel.
“Up,” he commands, lifting me effortlessly into his arms as if I’m feather light. He carries me to the bedroom, gently placing me on the bed before turning for my wardrobe.
“Why are you looking for pyjamas?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “We just got up.”
“Well,” He gets to his full height, holding a pair of fluffy pyjamas in his hands. “We’re going back in.”
He roots through his bag for a spare pair of boxers. He’s a vision with glistening skin and damp hair. His tattoos decorate his sculpted body like a work of art.
He turns to me with a look in his eyes that I can’t quite place. “Can I ask you something?”
“Depends what it is,” I reply, my curiosity piqued.
He drops to his knees before me, helping me with my moisturiser, gently massaging it into my skin. “Do you enjoy sex?”
“What?”
“You said you cannot finish with a partner, but do you at least enjoy the experience?” He blows a strand of hair from his eyes and leans in closer, his touch lingering on my skin.
“Sometimes. It depends on who it’s with.”
His lips trail up my legs, his breath tickling my inner thigh. “Trust is a big thing for you, bug.” His lips keep moving, travelling past my hips, and forcing me back onto the mattress as he climbs on top of me. “Do you like to be touched, baby? Do you like to feel someone’s hands on your body?”
I don’t know how to answer that. It’s a grey area.
I force myself to meet his gaze. “I like your touch,” I manage to say, cheeks blazing.
He smiles; there is something boyish in its charm that puts me at ease. “You,” his fingers slide between my breasts and trail down my stomach, “are so fucking beautiful.” He leans in, his lips claiming mine once again. “So strong,” Aiden whispers against my lips. “All mine.”
He reaches for my pyjamas and helps me into them before moving behind me and pulling me onto his lap. “We’re not moving from this bed for the rest of the day.”
It turns out that once I start talking, I can’t seem to stop. The confessions continue to pour out of my mouth as if a dam has burst. I tell him everything, and I mean everything.
I can’t receive gifts without feeling guilt or anxiety because my parents had a habit of allowing us to have pets just to take them away as soon as we got attached.
I can’t take a compliment because I was bullied horrendously in school and then went home to have more names thrown in my direction.
I was a whore, fat, ugly, a mistake, on drugs, and any other derogatory term you can think of.
I’m pretty sure I’m immune to gaslighting because I was manipulated so much growing up that I learned to trust my own instincts and not rely on others’ opinions.
I’m afraid to let anyone in (bar Maria) because everyone I took a chance on let me down and reinforced the negative beliefs I had about myself.
I spoke of my past eating disorder and how that came to be, and how I beat it with no professional help whatsoever, just me and Maria clutching on to each other in the darkest moments, ensuring neither of us got swallowed by the abyss.
By the time I run out of things to say, I’m surprised that Aiden is still sitting with me and hasn’t jumped out the fucking window. I wouldn’t even blame him if he did.
Then the all-mighty come-down hits. If I thought I felt like dog shit before opening up to him, it’s nothing compared to how I feel now.
My head throbs, I’m so tired I could pass out, my speech is slurred, my stomach aches, my back feels like it’s about to snap, and I can’t, for the life of me, get the heat into my body.
“You’re like ice,” Aiden whispers, concern etched on his face as he wraps me in the duvet and pins me to his chest. I can feel his warmth radiating through his embrace, but it does little to alleviate the chills that seem to have settled deep within my bones.
My teeth chatter. I’ve never felt so exposed and vulnerable, as if every ounce of energy had been drained from my body. I try to muster a weak smile, settling in against his strong and steady heartbeat. “Why aren’t you gone yet?”
He chuckles lowly, his voice vibrating against my ear. “Because I belong right here, with you.”
This man is going to be the death of me.
It takes a few tries to bring the teeth chattering to a minimum, so I can ask. “Don’t you have to go to work?”
“Nope,” his fingers gently trace circles on my back. “That’s the joy of being the boss, bug; I can make my own schedule.”
I tilt my head back to look at his stupidly handsome face. “You’re staying tonight?”
He kisses the tip of my frozen nose and smiles. “Tonight, and tomorrow night, and maybe the night after that too. I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.”
I glance at his bag in the corner and say, “I don’t think you packed enough clothes for that.”
He wriggles further down the bed and pulls me closer, his warm breath tickling my ear. “That’s why we have washing machines.”
I grin and bury my face in his chest. He smells divine; the heat from his body wraps around me like a cosy blanket.
My eyes are burning with exhaustion. I won’t last long, not like this, not after spitting up over two decades worth of trauma and emotions.
The last thing I remember thinking before my eyes shut is that, for the first time in my life, I finally feel safe.