We resumed where we left off, and it’s nice, so nice. But the instant Lorcan worked his hand beneath the hem of my nightgown and touched my skin, I jerked back with a harsh, “Stop. Wait.”
I pushed the fabric down and held it there.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
This is such bullshit.
I’m so angry with myself I might cry. It’s my boyfriend’s birthday and I can’t bring myself to have sex with him, even though I’ve wanted to for literally years. I pushed back to sit cross-legged on my half of his bed.
“Zosh. It’s okay.”
But it’s not.I’mnot. I reallyamirreparably broken.
He put one arm behind his head the way he did that first night we were together, eighteen months ago now. The way he did that night at River Bend, when I found out he hadn’t waited. It’s a sexy pose. He’s not wearing a shirt. I can see every sculpted muscle and so many of his scars. The thick one across his low belly. The neatly stitched one curving up along his ribcage. Many others, most faded and indistinct. A few new ones.
“Bashir?” he asked frowning.
“Yes.” I lunged at the excuse he offered me. Anyone would be traumatized by the shit Bashir said and did, but for me, it’s been manageable. I knew he was out of his mind by the end, and pitied him as much as I feared him. So, no, Bashir is not the reason I can’t do this.
Lorcan pieced it together immediately, though.
“You didn’t panic when we were together after Trissau. At River Bend.” His features slowly tightened as though in great pain. I’ve seen him in acute pain before; this is worse. “It’s me. I did this to you. To us.”
Several responses flitted through my mind. I discarded each one as inadequate or unkind. I don’t know what to say. Lorcan rubbed my arm gently with his free hand. “Zosia. I’ll fix it. I’ll do anything it takes. The past couple of weeks have been the best weeks of my life. I want you to trust me again.”
I do. With my life. Not with my heart. “I meant what I said last night. I love you. I would have done it—”
“You shouldn’t have had to do it. I should have been more careful that night. I should have listened to the people around me when I woke up, instead of resenting them for making me fight.” He swallowed. The muscles in his throat work. “Most of all, I should have stayed when I brought you to Saskaya’s. I should have told you everything.”
“We both had a hand in making this.” I don’t blame him. I mean, I do. Part of me always will. But there’s nothing either of us can do to change the past. I’m holding onto my bitterness and resentment because it isn’t safe to let go. I don’t know how to.
“We’ll start over. Let this be a new beginning, okay?” I whispered.
I’d like the time we have remaining to us to be good. But then, I have a lousy track record of getting things I want. And Lorcan and I have a terrible knack for new beginnings.
“Sure, Princess.”
Lorcan pulled me down. I nestled against his body. We kiss and hold one another for a long time; I don’t think either of us slept.
We both know better.
There is no starting over. No fresh beginning. We carry all the broken bits with us. All we can do is pick up the pieces and try to mend them.
Try not to fracture further.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Lorcan kissed my shoulder the next morning, his front was pressed flush against my back. He likes to sleep this way, with one arm beneath my neck and the other over my waist.
This morning, as rain drizzled against the window, his hand drifted lower to where my nightgown had gotten twisted around my hips. He traced lazy circles on my thigh right below the hem of my underwear. Rough stubble scraped pleasantly along my neck. Drowsily, I snuggled closer. I’ll miss this so much.
“Okay?” he asked in a warm puff of air against my earlobe. I entwined my fingers with his left hand, the one trapped beneath my neck, and leaned my torso back against his bare chest. Heat from his skin warmed mine. I’m never cold when he holds me like this.
Lorcan gently worked his right hand beneath my nightdress. My breath hitched when he flattened his palm over my low belly, shockingly warm and tough-skinned, covering my navel.
Anxiety is right there, waiting to see what he’ll do. Ready to shut things down. I closed my eyes and listened to the rain. Stretched my hand up behind me to play with his hair. More lazy circles with the tips of his fingers at my sternum. Embarrassment when he runs his palm over my ribs. I exhaled and made myself stay still, only jerking in protest when his thumb skimmed the underside of what used to be my breast. He stilled, but didn’t move his hand away.
“Okay?”
