meet mine. “I was gentle.”
I know he was. It still hurt. “You made me cum.”
He nods. “No small feat for a virgin. But I—” He glances down, his washing of my tenderness halting. “Your pleasure is important to me. Especially now.”
“Why?”
Shepard resumes the onslaught of washing and squeezing. I have to admit it feels way better. I wasn't dirty—I was hurting.
Now I feel clean.
Cared for.
“Because I feel.” He laughs, taking the rag away. His laughter is uncertain.
I rise up on my elbows.
“I feel as though I've met my other half.”
I shake my head. “All of this, Shepard”—I wag my finger between the two of us—“this coincidence of meeting, it's all bullshit.”
“Life happens, non ?” His face tightens, and he withdraws his hand, hurling the washcloth in the direction of the sink in the bathroom. It strikes the mirror, tumbling to the basin and leaving a pink smear of my blood on the glass.
My exhale is rough. “Hey.” I grab his wrist, and I can tell how much he wants to jerk away from me. “I don't mean we're bullshit. I mean, we're running. It's a volatile situation and... I'm not sure anything's going to come of it.”
I try to imagine making a life with a former French mob guy who trained girls to run drugs and fuck political bigwigs.
No can do.
However, I have to admit to myself, I just handed Shepard my virginity. After somehow surviving what I had without giving it before.
“You said you'd own me if we—had sex.”
Shepard nods. Unmoving.
“I don't know if I'm ready for that. For what being with someone of your background would mean.”
“I only thought that we could try. That after this is all over with”—he gestures to the world at large with a muscular swinging arm—“that there might be something between us that is more than adrenaline and danger.”
I draw his hand to my mouth and open his stiff fingers. I kiss the center of his palm. A hand I watched kill. “Wanting it to be and it happening are two different things.”
“I am nearly thirty-two years old.” His eyes narrow, searching my face. “I know when something is real and when it is false. Instincts have saved me more times than I can tally. I have learned to listen to, as you Americans so aptly put it, my gut .”
I grasp at his hands, and he flings them away.
My hands break apart like broken birds, and I level a livid stare at him. “What does your gut tell you, Shepard?”
He faces away from me. His hands on his hips. His feet wide.
My eyes trace him from his dark head to his feet. He is a beautiful man , I think for the second time. But beauty and being great in the sack are not enough. I had dreams for my future.
And I've already had nightmares.
If he can't be a dream come true, then I don't want what Shepard seems to be offering.
“That I am here for you. Put here for you. In this time—in this moment.”
“And if you're wrong?” I ask softly, my eyes glued to his back, the scars that litter the surface.
He turns, facing me, and my breath catches at the sight of him. Tall, gorgeous—erect.
Shepard smiles. “Then we can be splendid together for a time.”
“How much time?” I ask as the first tear falls.
His face goes tender, and he strides back to my side. “For as long a time as you would give me. Have me.”
I don't say no when he kisses my tears away. Or when he kneels between my legs and kisses me there too.
I give in.
Because I want to. But also because, deep down, we feel right.
As if we always were meant to be. And will always be.
FOURTEEN
Thorn
“I'm sorry, baby. Damn, you know I don't want to drag you into this.”
Juliette cradles her head in her hands, glaring at him.
“He's taken another girl. Early twenties, part African-American, French speaker.”
Her brows come together, her expression clearly struggling to decide what emotion to own and finally morphing to bewildered. “I do not know why la famille would acquire an
I know he was. It still hurt. “You made me cum.”
He nods. “No small feat for a virgin. But I—” He glances down, his washing of my tenderness halting. “Your pleasure is important to me. Especially now.”
“Why?”
Shepard resumes the onslaught of washing and squeezing. I have to admit it feels way better. I wasn't dirty—I was hurting.
Now I feel clean.
Cared for.
“Because I feel.” He laughs, taking the rag away. His laughter is uncertain.
I rise up on my elbows.
“I feel as though I've met my other half.”
I shake my head. “All of this, Shepard”—I wag my finger between the two of us—“this coincidence of meeting, it's all bullshit.”
“Life happens, non ?” His face tightens, and he withdraws his hand, hurling the washcloth in the direction of the sink in the bathroom. It strikes the mirror, tumbling to the basin and leaving a pink smear of my blood on the glass.
My exhale is rough. “Hey.” I grab his wrist, and I can tell how much he wants to jerk away from me. “I don't mean we're bullshit. I mean, we're running. It's a volatile situation and... I'm not sure anything's going to come of it.”
I try to imagine making a life with a former French mob guy who trained girls to run drugs and fuck political bigwigs.
No can do.
However, I have to admit to myself, I just handed Shepard my virginity. After somehow surviving what I had without giving it before.
“You said you'd own me if we—had sex.”
Shepard nods. Unmoving.
“I don't know if I'm ready for that. For what being with someone of your background would mean.”
“I only thought that we could try. That after this is all over with”—he gestures to the world at large with a muscular swinging arm—“that there might be something between us that is more than adrenaline and danger.”
I draw his hand to my mouth and open his stiff fingers. I kiss the center of his palm. A hand I watched kill. “Wanting it to be and it happening are two different things.”
“I am nearly thirty-two years old.” His eyes narrow, searching my face. “I know when something is real and when it is false. Instincts have saved me more times than I can tally. I have learned to listen to, as you Americans so aptly put it, my gut .”
I grasp at his hands, and he flings them away.
My hands break apart like broken birds, and I level a livid stare at him. “What does your gut tell you, Shepard?”
He faces away from me. His hands on his hips. His feet wide.
My eyes trace him from his dark head to his feet. He is a beautiful man , I think for the second time. But beauty and being great in the sack are not enough. I had dreams for my future.
And I've already had nightmares.
If he can't be a dream come true, then I don't want what Shepard seems to be offering.
“That I am here for you. Put here for you. In this time—in this moment.”
“And if you're wrong?” I ask softly, my eyes glued to his back, the scars that litter the surface.
He turns, facing me, and my breath catches at the sight of him. Tall, gorgeous—erect.
Shepard smiles. “Then we can be splendid together for a time.”
“How much time?” I ask as the first tear falls.
His face goes tender, and he strides back to my side. “For as long a time as you would give me. Have me.”
I don't say no when he kisses my tears away. Or when he kneels between my legs and kisses me there too.
I give in.
Because I want to. But also because, deep down, we feel right.
As if we always were meant to be. And will always be.
FOURTEEN
Thorn
“I'm sorry, baby. Damn, you know I don't want to drag you into this.”
Juliette cradles her head in her hands, glaring at him.
“He's taken another girl. Early twenties, part African-American, French speaker.”
Her brows come together, her expression clearly struggling to decide what emotion to own and finally morphing to bewildered. “I do not know why la famille would acquire an
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