Sparrow

It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t answer. There was something intoxicating about seeing him below me like this, this powerful man, on his knees for me. His coal black hair contrasting with my white skin, his mouth so hot, so close…

“So this…” His long finger trailed between my folds, over my panties. “Has been waiting for me all this time. Did someone ever touch you there?”

I thought back to that awful day when someone did, despite my pleas, and all the days he did it over and over again after. I shook my head no, fighting my gag reflex. Brennan wouldn’t care, and it was too intimate to share with him anyway.

“You’re lying,” he said, hooking his index fingers into my underwear from each side, his voice suddenly harsh behind me.

Another statement.

His mouth was there again, between my thighs. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling my legs shaking. Desperate… wanting…falling in lust with this twisted man. One step from grinding my crotch against his face.

“I know how to smell bullshit from miles. So tell me now, who was it?” His warm breath felt good on my skin, especially as I could barely make out his face from that angle and didn’t know when it was coming. “Who was stupid enough to mess around with you?”

It sounded peculiar, even insulting—why would a guy be stupid to be with me? But at that moment, logic and thinking weren’t the thing on my mind. With my head hanging low, I felt the familiar burn behind my eyes and the lump in my throat.

“Paddy.” My voice thickened. “At his wedding. When I went to the girls’ room. Paddy Rowan touched me there. And many times after. It became a hobby of his at some point.” I swallowed a bitter lump. “I was only nine.”

I didn’t break down in tears. Instead, I delivered the information like I was talking about someone else’s problems, someone else’s sexual abuse. Maybe because I’d hidden it for so long, a part of me almost doubted it had really happened.

After all, no one knew. Not a soul. It went on for nearly a year, and yet, nobody knew. I couldn’t tell my father. He was working for Paddy and Cillian back then, and I knew how much he feared them and needed the paycheck. I had to choose between the truth and food on our table. So I kept it to myself.

Until now.

Admitting this to Troy made me feel more naked than I physically was—it was like giving up an imaginary bulletproof vest. A part of me wanted to see if it would push him away. After all, now I was damaged goods. Tainted by his father’s right-hand man. Troy’s shiny new toy was broken and cracked. Would it put him off? Would he back down? I wanted to know if taking off my armor would inspire him to shoot me where it hurt.

I peeked down to search his face, but he was still behind me.

"What did he do exactly?" He pressed his face to my panties, inhaling gently. He sounded composed and attentive, but clipped. Even though his voice barely gave him away, the sudden twitch of his hand caressing my lower stomach did the job. He was disturbed by what I’d said, but not disgusted by me.

I let out a relieved breath when I realized he wasn’t going to be snide or cold about my confession.

Human, after all.

"He..." I didn't want to elaborate, but not seeing his face when I spoke about it was liberating. So was getting this secret off my chest. "He didn't rape me. But he was violent. He shoved his fingers into me. He was drunk, and I was small. Paddy was one of my father's bosses. I didn't want to make a scene."

More silence. Not the judging kind, though.

I released my breath, shaking my head. “I’m a little drunk. My normal self would never share something like this with you,” I admitted. “Let’s just drop it, okay? I just want to mess around tonight.”

Troy spun me around by my waist to face him. Still on his knees, he kissed each of my pubic bones, his firm hands keeping me in place. I think I might have loved him in that particular moment. Just for a second. For listening. For being there. For not being terrible for once, even though it was in his DNA. In his nature.

“Is that why you’ve never slept with anyone?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I just...never got around to it.” I knew this wasn’t exactly dirty talk between the sheets. Thankfully, I didn’t spend too much time worrying about trying to impress my new husband.

His eyes pinned me to the dresser, trying to estimate how upset I was. There was no need for that. Paddy happened a long time ago, and I was ready now. Ready for more of those kisses all over my sensitive area.