Tempted Heir (The Heirs 7)

“I’ll never hurt you.”

She nods. “I know.”

“But?”

A sob drifts over her lips. “Deep down, I know you won’t hurt me, but… it’s just there.” She presses her forehead to my chest, and her voice sounds fragile as she whispers, “Whenever I didn’t do what he wanted… pain followed.”

“Would it be easier for you if I made the decisions? Just for a while?”

Instantly Dash begins to nod. “Please.”

With her finally opening up to me, I take a chance and push harder. “Did he touch you in any way or do anything that was sexual?”

It’s grown dark in the apartment, and I think it’s making it easier for Dash to share her trauma with me.

“He kissed me.” Her voice is strained as if she’s going to be sick at any moment.

Closing my eyes, I whisper, “And?”

She keeps quiet again, and as the minutes' pass, I just know it’s terrible.

Everything in me stills, waiting for the final blow.

Her voice sounds empty as she says, “He bathed me. Everywhere. He didn’t use a cloth.”

God.

The blow knocks the air from my lungs. I grind my teeth to keep the emotion back, but it rips through me like a destructive storm. I fight to keep my shit together for Dash.

“I’m so sorry, Dash,” I manage to whisper. “I’m so fucking sorry I wasn’t there to stop it.”

I’ve always been protective of Dash, but after hearing what she was forced to endure… I don’t think I’ll ever let her go anywhere without me again.

“Are you okay with me touching you?” I ask, not wanting to bring up any of those memories for her.

She nods while tightening her arms around me.

“You’re okay with me kissing you?”

She nods again, then says, “I’m just not okay with losing you.”

Bringing my hands to her face, I nudge her back up, then I say, “That is the one thing you don’t need to worry about. You’re my everything. I died a thousand deaths during those four days, Dash. I can’t live without you.” I press a soft kiss to her lips. “My life belongs to you and only you,” I try to tell her how much I love her without using the words.

A sob sputters over her lips. “It doesn’t feel like I deserve you.”

“God, Dash,” I groan. “It’s the other way around. You’re so fucking perfect. You’re strong and independent. You’re gorgeous as fuck. You’re smart, funny, sexy as hell. You’re so patient and caring with me. You fit me like a second skin. There will never be anyone else for me. It’s either you or nothing.”

DASH

Christopher’s words act as a soothing balm on my heart and soul.

For a moment, I can only stare at him.

I thought I’d feel less once I told him what happened. I thought he’d view me differently.

But the opposite happened.

The trauma doesn’t weigh so heavily on my heart anymore. It’s not gone. Far from. But it’s not as vile, not as deep, not as dark.

Still needing reassurance, I ask, “You don’t think less of me?”

Christopher’s features tighten as if he’s in pain. “I think you’re the strongest person I know. You went through hell, and he couldn’t break you.”

“It feels like he did,” I admit, the words coming easier the more I share with Christopher.

“But he didn’t. You’re here, still fighting. You’re here with me, opening up. He didn’t break you, Dash.” Christopher tilts his head, then he says, “I know this doesn’t instantly fix everything, so please tell me when things become too much. Come to me if you’re struggling. Wake me up if you have a nightmare. If you need to cry, do it against my chest. If you need to break, do it in my arms. If you need to talk about it, I don’t care if it’s all day, every day, then talk to me. Okay?”

Nodding, I admit, “I just really need you to hold me.”

His arms instantly tighten around me, and he presses my head back to his chest. After a while, Christopher moves, so he’s leaning back against the couch while pulling me onto his lap.

I shift my body so I’m straddling him, and tucking my arms between us, I bury my face under his chin.

“Better?” he asks as he places a hand behind my head.

“Yes,” I whisper as I press as close to him as I can.

Silence falls between us, and I begin to drift off when Christopher shudders. He tightens his hold on me, then he whispers, “God, if I had lost you, I wouldn’t have survived it. Without you, my life has no meaning.”

Lifting my head, I press a kiss to his throat.

He lowers his head, and I feel his breaths fan over my face until they’re over my mouth. Slowly, he closes the distance until our lips softly touch.

His scent wraps around me like a protective cloak, and his arms keep me secure to his chest.