Chapter 144
994 Words
He picked up the mug of green tea and walked up the stairs. Her door was open, and he paused just outside.
“Hey, sweetheart. I’m home.”
Jenny looked up at him, relieved that he was back. For about an hour after she'd left Chris downstairs, looking shocked, she’d berated herself for telling him as soon as she did. Finally, she’d called Emma in a panic, sure that Chris was going to run. Hell, she’d run, if she had any choice in the matter whatsoever.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Can I come in?”
“Yes.”
He approached the bed slowly, then set the tea on the bedside table before stepping back. Jenny gasped and grabbed his hand.
“Chris? What happened?”
“Oh, baby.” He swallowed hard. “I – I went over to Jim’s and I beat the hell out of his punching bag.”
“You did? Why?”
“Because… I was angry. No, correction. I was f*****g furious. I wanted to kill someone for what happened to you.”
“You did?”
“I did.”
She sat there, his large hand cradled in both of her smaller ones, running her fingers over his split knuckles, tracing the edges of the bruises. Her head was bowed, her long blonde hair falling over her shoulders. He saw that her lips were pressed together tightly.
Chris started when something warm and wet splattered on his hand; it was followed by another drop which landed on his knuckles. He knelt down so that he could see Jenny’s face.
“Are you crying?” he asked.
She nodded. “I’m so sorry.”
“What? Why are you sorry?”
“I don’t like to see you hurt.” She held his hand to her cheek. “Especially when it’s my fault.”
“It’s not your fault. I just lost it… that’s on me, Jenny. You hear me?”
She nodded again.
Chris hesitated, then he carefully reached out to touch her other cheek. She let him, and he cradled her face in both wrecked hands, holding her gaze. He used his thumbs to gently wipe away her tears.
God. I can finally do this… I can offer her comfort and wipe her tears away.
“We’re going to be OK, sweetheart,” he said softly. “We’ll take it slow, and I’ll stay as long as it takes. I’m not going anywhere, not ever again. I’m here, baby. Right here.”
Her eyes searched his, and she saw a steadiness in them that hadn’t been there before. She relaxed, finally believing that Chris was truly in this with her. That knowledge gave her a courage that she’d been hoping for and seeking for six years – it made her have faith that he’d be there at the very end. That he’d be the one to see her through, all the way to the bedroom. To real pleasure from a man’s body.
To love?
“Can you… hold me?” she asked.
His breath caught. “You feel ready for that?”
“I don’t know. But don’t let me go, no matter what. OK?”
“OK.”
He sat next to her on the bed, his arms at his sides. Jenny moved closer to him, suddenly very aware of how big his upper body really was. She leaned into him slowly, leaned until her forehead was resting against his chest. She froze, breathing deeply, inhaling his scent. He smelled of soap and alcohol and sweat; he smelled all male, strong and sensual. Exciting and yet somehow still safe. She raised her hands and gently laid them on his chest, curled them around his t-shirt. She held on, counted his heartbeats.
Stay here for ten beats. Just ten. OK, good. Now ten more. Ten more. Again. And again.
Chris kept his hands on the bed, waiting to see if she’d stay, or if she’d try to bolt. Her body trembled, but far less than he’d expected. She moved a bit closer, burrowed into him and he closed his eyes.
God, it feels so good to have her right here. Against me, on me. I never want to let her go… she belongs right where she is. My body was made for hers to fit into. She’s home; I’m home.
“Chris?” Her voice shook.
“Yeah?”
“Can you put your arms around me now?”
“OK. Slow and easy. You ready?”
“Yes.”
He raised his arms, wrapped them around her body. He held her, not tight, not hard, barely touching her. His one hand was on her upper back, the other on her lower back; neither one moved. He turned his face into her hair, breathed in a sweet scent of flowers and sugar. She was just the most beautiful, amazing thing he’d ever held, and he could stay here forever. He could die here.
Jenny. Jenny. Jenny.
Slowly, her body relaxed against his, and he sighed with relief. He didn’t hold her any tighter, not wanting to frighten her by making her feel trapped, but he pulled her a bit closer. She went willingly, her body pliant and trusting.
Jenny’s whole world was here in his arms. She pressed herself up to his muscle, his strength. She had never felt so safe with a man, so cared-for by anyone, not even before the rapes. Chris was hard against her softness, and his planes encircled her curves, protecting them and cradling them. Cherishing them.
Yes, that’s the word. I feel cherished.
She let out her breath and moved closer to him.
“How you doing, Jenny?” he whispered. “You OK here with me?”
“Better than OK,” she said. “I’m happy.”
He paused as the truth hit him. “Yeah. Me too.”
- Writer
