I led her through the living room and toward the bedroom, already desperate for more of her. "You're surprised? I felt pretty sure you were deliberately pushing all my buttons so I would short-circuit and explode."
Gemma puffed out a laugh. "I do that whether I mean to or not."
That was true enough. When we entered the bathroom, I flicked on the lights, unwilling to relinquish my hold on Gemma's small hand. She felt so good in my grasp—so complete and warm. All my fears of tainting her with my issues, all my worries about the feelings her touch might dredge up had been for nothing. I'd never felt more whole than with her skin against mine. I turned on the shower, letting the bathroom steam as I turned Gemma and fitted her back against the vanity and my front to hers. Our damp clothing pressed in chilly patches against my pebbled skin, and I took Gemma's face between my hands gently.
I smoothed my thumbs over her apple cheeks, relishing the suede-soft feel and the pink glow that contrasted sharply with her cornflower blue eyes. Dampened, black lashes fluttered, and her rosy, delicate lips parted a fraction. She was breathtaking.Every blond hue in her hair, every freckle across the bridge of her nose, every fine crack in her full lips—they fascinated me.
Her gaze bounced from eye to eye as she surveyed me. "What are you thinking?" she whispered.
I traced the curve of her light eyebrow with the tip of my index finger. "I'm thinking," I murmured, "how very beautiful you are."
She pulled in a soft, barely audible breath, and her throat bobbed. "What… what else?"
"I'm thinking I almost lost you," I said honestly. "And that I almost didn’t get the chance to touch you the way I’d been dreaming about."
She leaned into my touch. "Are you going to tell me why you—" she reached up hesitantly, and her hand cupped mine along the side of her face. "Why this bothers you?"
"It doesn't," I said with gentle truthfulness, "but I worried it would." I let my fingers wander down her neck to the dipping neckline of her dress. "I'll tell you if you let me warm you up in the shower and run my soapy hands all over your body."
A wicked grin split her sweet features. "Deal."
We helped each other undress, and I marveled at the shape of her, at the way her collarbones made a ridge just below her dainty shoulders, at the way her breasts curved and dipped like full teardrops, perfectly complimenting her waist and generous hips. I traced the soft slope of her belly and the rills between her ribs, and then I let her explore my body, let her brush and graze and kiss my skin that hummed for more of her with each passing second.
When I had her in the shower and had turned her back to me, sweeping her hair over one shoulder and lathering rose-scented soap between my hands, I dropped a kiss to her neck. "I used to be a competitive swimmer," I admitted, my voice low and myheart beginning an uneasy rhythm in my chest. I rarely spoke of this—only Spencer knew the extent of it.
Gemma sent me a questioning glance over her shoulder. "Okay."
"I made state my junior year of high school, and after that, my parents and coaches pushed me to qualify for college scholarships and possibly Olympic-level tryouts. I pushed myself really hard in my senior year, and my times improved." I smoothed my soapy hands down her shoulders, and in some way, that contact with her seemed to help. I inhaled the scent of her soap, tangy and floral, and ignored the churning in my stomach. "One of my coaches in particular was—" I swallowed, unsure how to describe Coach Daniels. "She crossed boundaries with me."
Gemma went rigid under my touch, but I carried on, sliding the soap down her back and around her sides. "She verbally abused me regularly. She put me down until I had nothing left but my drive to succeed and a need to please her, and then she used it for her own… desires."
Gemma stilled my hands on her stomach, pressing them to her and pulling me closer so I had no choice but to lean into the hug and wrap my arms around her. "She groomed you?" she asked with a stricken choke.
I nodded, my face against her wet hair and the stream of warm water cascading over us both. "She did. She manipulated me with her touch, hurting me with her words but then soothing it away with her hands. Although I realized what she was doing before it got too serious, I don't think it would have mattered even if she had succeeded in sexually abusing me. My parents wouldn't have believed me."
Gemma's hands tightened against mine. Her voice shook as she whispered, "You're telling me this monster assaulted you, and they didnothing?"
I nodded again, kissing her hairline and gathering her flush against my body. This was the only time I'd talked about Coach Daniels without breaking out into a sweat and ending up with full-body shivers. Gemma's touch was doing that. I took a moment to admire that kind of protective power that she had wrapped me in, and then I grated out, "Since then, touch has been hit or miss."
She turned in my arms, her back to the showerhead and her palms coming to land against my chest. She was so short, the top of her head barely grazed the bottom of my chin. Luculent, blue eyes hooked mine with a teary fierceness. "Someone should have fought for you."
I caught her chin between my thumb and forefinger. "I'm only telling you so that you understand, you wildcard. Don't go tracking down miserable old witches for vengeance."
She sniffed, brows still drawn together. "I'm not a wildcard. I'm fifty-two-card pickup. I'll spew a whole confetti bomb of crazy over her life if I ever come across that hag."
"Terrifyingly, I believe you."
"So, the reason you didn't want to touch me," she said, looking down at where her palms made contact with my chest, "is because it hurts you?"
"Sometimes," I clarified, wrapping her small hands in mine. "Most notably, when I really feel something for a person. I've had girlfriends before, but the moment I began to care for them past a physical dalliance, their touch would turn my stomach. It was like I expected them to betray me. Because I cared for them, it made me vulnerable, and that brought up the feelings of the past." I brought her fingers to my lips and kissed them softly. "I didn't want to feel that way around you. Even when I was furious with you," I gave her a rueful half-smile, "some part of me knew I didn't want your touch ruined."
She gazed up at me, beads of moisture on her long lashes, and she licked water off her lips hesitantly. "But you aren't hurting now? Why?"
I shrugged, lowering her hands to my chest again. "I'm not sure. But I knew after I finally touched you, it wouldn't be like that."
Gemma got a veryGemmalook on her face, and her eyes tilted up to me coyly. She pressed her body against mine, rubbing her belly against my erection that I swore hadn't found relief since the greenhouse. "Whatisit like?"
"Your touch?" I asked, leveling a knowing look her way.
