He pulled her back against him and cleared his throat, gathering himself to say what he rarely said. “I was engaged a few years ago. Five. She was killed. Murdered.” He adjusted Hannah in his lap before going on.
“It was two weeks before the wedding and I wasn’t there. She went out for a drink with friends and some guys followed her home, forced her inside.” He told her all of it, poured it out like a dam had burst.
She didn’t flinch, didn’t gasp or make him pull back from a single detail. He was both awed and comforted by her strength, by Hannah, who was nothing but good, yet strong enough to face evil and live through it. Better than he had.
But he didn’t tell her that, how not okay he was. Couldn’t tell her that her nightmares were probably pretty close to his fantasies. That the only way he could cope with the agony of that event was to imagine himself doing ten times worse to the perpetrators. His hand fisted on the arm of the couch so tightly it shook.
Hannah covered it with her own, immediately easing him.
He didn’t deserve her. He should leave this house right now and never look back. Never touch her again. But instead he wrapped his arms around her even tighter. “I’m sorry, baby. I should have stayed. I should have made it better instead of worse. It’s not that I didn’t want to hear it, that I wanted you to stop. I wanted it to stop. I wanted what had happened to you to stop and—”
“It’s okay.”
No, but it was getting there. And the knot that was his entire body began to loosen. The weight that had crushed him for days lessened.
“Hannah, it wasn’t about the scars. It was never about that.” He held her when she would have pulled away. “Look at me.” She obeyed, but he wasn’t sure she was seeing him, from the way her eyes swam with tears. “Baby. You’re breaking my heart.” He kissed her cheek as one escaped. “I was shocked, yes. More that someone had hurt you.”
When she remained quiet, he brushed his lips across her temple, her cheek, and was well on his way to her lips, when she pulled back.
“I can’t.” She looked down at her hands folded tightly in her lap. “I can barely be touched.”
“I disagree.” He tipped her head back with a finger under her chin, pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I’ve touched you.” He nibbled at the bottom, then the top and the corners, took his time persuading and convincing. “I love your mouth. Could get lost in it for days. Your lips, the taste of you on my tongue.”
She parted her lips, maybe for a breath, maybe to say something, but he took the opening she’d given. Gave her no chance to pull away from him because he needed to kiss her more than he needed his next breath. Deep and slow, he kissed her for everything she’d been through. Every way she’d been hurt and sad and afraid. “You’re so damn beau—”
“Don’t.” Her fingers flew to his lips. “Just…don’t.”
“Hannah.” He stared into her eyes and it killed him that she didn’t see it.
She leaned against his chest and he touched his lips to the top of her head. He’d hold her all night if she’d let him, just like this. Like he should have done days ago. But he hadn’t held her, he’d left. Made it worse?
“Was it my fault?” he asked softly. “The anxiety attack?”
“No. I might have been thinking about it more but…I have dreams. Nightmares.”
God. Knowing his own, he couldn’t imagine the terror she must face in her sleep. “Would it help if I stayed?”
“I don’t know.”
She’d barely gotten the words out when he stood with her in his arms.
“What are you doing?”
“Finding out.”
He walked the short distance to her bedroom, laid her on the bed, and joined her so they were facing each other.
“What are you going to do?”
“Lie beside you. Recite boring numbers until you fall asleep.” Her lips curved at that. “And,” he added seriously, “if you have a nightmare, I’ll be right here.” He pulled up the quilt and got comfortable. “One potato, two potato, three potato, four…”
She made an obnoxious snoring noise that got her a swat on the bottom. And got him a smile. “You’re right. That is boring. Is that how you made all your money?”
“Yep. That and musical chairs.” She smiled again. It always took his breath away, but when she smiled because of him? Nothing was better.
They were quiet for several minutes, eyes open, close enough for their breath to mingle. “You have a lot of night-lights.”
“I know.” She glanced around her room. “Can you sleep? Want me to unplug some?”
He noticed she said some, not all. Even with him here, she didn’t want to be completely in the dark. “No.” He swept her hair back. “I like seeing your face.”
She laid her cool, soft hand against his neck. “I like seeing yours too. You really are gorgeous. Though I’m sure you know that.” She traced a finger over his brow, his jawline, down his nose.