“That’s true.”
“Like I’m… important.”
I can’t give her love, but I can give her this. “Yes. You’re important.” I wait a beat, hating that I’m going to hurt her again. “But I can’t?—”
“I know. It’s okay. I mean, what’s the big deal, right?”
I've spent years drowning my grief in meaningless encounters while she's barely begun to explore her own desires. Desires she seems to think aren’t any big deal. But I remember how she responded to me when I touched her. She wants to know what it’s like between a man and a woman.
"Do you…" The question burns in my throat, inappropriate but impossible to hold back. "When you're alone, maybe in the shower or tub, do you touch yourself?"
Her face flushes crimson, and she ducks her head, finally tugging her wrist free from my hand. "I… I wouldn't know how.”
Christ. Was her first orgasm on our wedding night when I fingered her? "Never?"
She shakes her head, still not meeting my eyes. "Is that… is that something I should have done?"
“Many people, as teenagers, discover their bodies. Did your parents discuss any of this?”
She swallows, and I hate how her expression suggests she’s feeling ignorant. “Just about being married. Nothing about touching myself.”
I nod. “Some people think it’s wrong. It’s not. It can feel good.”
She shrugs.
“I can tell you how.” What the fuck am I doing? The last thing I should be doing is teaching her how to pleasure herself. Of course, my dick thinks it’s a great idea. It swells until there’s a tent in my slacks.
“I don’t know.” She bites her lip, and I get the sense that she wants this but is uncertain.
“I can show you.” I reach for her, tugging her back toward the bed.
Hannah trembles beneath my touch, but her eyes hold nothing but trust as she looks at me. I don’t deserve her trust, but maybe I can earn it. Maybe I can give her something to make her life with me less of a misery.
"Let me take care of you." I work open the buttons of her blouse. Each new inch of exposed skin makes my heart race faster. Her breath catches as I slide the fabric from hershoulders. I’m walking on thin ice, but I’m determined to give her pleasure, to show her how she can have it without me.
"I'll show you everything," I promise, trailing my fingers along her collarbone. "Just relax and feel."
She nods, biting her lower lip. The gesture is so innocent, so pure, everything I'm not. Yet here she is, putting herself completely in my hands despite how badly I've treated her.
My thoughts drift to Meghan as I explore Hannah's skin. The guilt twists in my gut, but it mingles with an electric thrill I can't deny. Hannah's soft gasps and trembling responses ignite something primal in me.
"That's it," I encourage as she arches into my touch. "Just let go. Trust me."
When she’s naked, I have her lie back on the bed. She looks sweet, innocent. Like an angel. For a moment, I feel unworthy of something so beautiful and pure. But if I stop now, I’ll only hurt her more.
“Do you know your body?” I ask, sitting on the bed beside her.
“My parts? Yes.”
“I mean what makes you feel good. Have you ever touched your tits?”
Her cheeks redden. “I mean, when I’m in the shower.”
“Just for washing?”
She nods.
“Take them in your hands. Feel the softness. Brush your fingers over your nipples. What do you feel?”
