Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
I gasped for breath, closing my eyes and concentrating on the wet cloth brushing over the skin of my face and neck.
When I was sure the nausea had passed, I sat back, collapsing against Roman. He reached out and flushed the toilet and handed me a glass of water from where it sat on the vanity.
“There. It’s over. You’re OK. I’ve got you.”
“I’m so sorry, Roman.”
“Honey, there’s nothin’ for you to be sorry for.” With infinite gentleness, Roman pulled me into his arms and held me. Much like Brick was doing with Serelda when we left them. “Maybe this was a bad idea. I need to know, but…”
“No. I get it now. If something triggers me like this did if we…” I shuddered again, shaking my head. “No. I have to get this out. I see that now.”
So, sitting there in the bathroom with me sitting between Roman’s legs as I clung to him, I took a deep breath and began.
“There was blood. So much blood.” I swallowed back the nausea threatening to bubble up again. “They paid my dad extra to be able to cut us. One of them said he liked blood play. I don’t think Dad expected everything they did to us, but there was nothing he could do except double the price afterward. Taking us for medical treatment would have raised questions, and we were underage.”
Roman’s arms tightened around me, but he said nothing. Just kissed the top of my head and continued to rub my arm and back in a slow, soothing gesture.
“At first, they tied us down, so I don’t like being restrained. Or trapped, really.” I snuggled closer to Roman before I caught myself. “Actually, this is the first time I’ve been held by someone other than Serelda. There were brief hugs occasionally at Black Reign, but always by the women. I don’t like men touching me.”
“But you’re OK with me holding you?”
I looked up at him and nodded. “Yes. It’s comforting. And I liked it before. You know. When you kissed me.”
He smiled at me, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on my lips. The contact helped settle me. I had no idea why. Maybe this man I’d built up in my fantasies and dreams was now my anchor. Though I felt gross and out of sorts since the vomiting episode, I couldn’t work up the self-preservation I needed to. The longer I was in his arms, the longer I wanted to be.
“I probably stink like vomit and sweat,” I muttered. I hadn’t meant for that to come out, but I’d definitely spoken my thoughts out loud.
“You don’t. Besides, good clean sweat never hurt no one. As to the other, it happens. Been in an MC long enough to see and smell it several times. You’d barely eaten anything, and it didn’t smell like beer.”
For some reason that made me chuckle. “Well, at least there’s that.”
“You think we can move to the couch now?”
“Yeah. Probably be more comfortable than sitting on the floor.”
Roman helped me to my feet, then stood himself. “Brush your teeth and wash off so you feel better. Do you want to take a shower?”
I shook my head. “No!” I cleared my throat. “I mean, I want to brush my teeth, and I’ll just kind of wash with a washcloth. I hate showers or baths.” He frowned at me, so I quickly explained. “I don’t like the feel of water on my skin much. It’s thinner than blood but…”
“I get it.” He looked like he did, too.
“I also don’t like washing. Touching my scars.”
“Do they still hurt?” He wasn’t judging, just curious. Roman was truly trying to learn what made me tick and what set me off and why.
“No. it’s not that. It’s the sensation. I don’t like the feel of them. Even when I use something between my hand and the scars, I imagine I can feel them. I don’t like touching them.”
He stared at me for long moments. I got the feeling he was having an internal struggle with himself. When he finally spoke, his question surprised me. “Would you be OK with me washing you? I’ll only get the high spots. Just enough to wash the sweat off so you don’t feel sticky. Arms. Legs. Face and neck. Pits. I only want you comfortable, Winter.”
This didn’t compute. “You want to wash me?”
“Look, I know what it sounds like. But I ain’t tryin’ to get you naked and feel you up.” He snorted. “At least, not right now. You were self-conscious about the sweat and vomit. I just want to offer a solution to help you have what you want and not be uncomfortable.”
Tears welled in my eyes. Serelda and I had similar issues with water and touching our scars. She dealt with that part better than me, while I dealt with the nightmares and internal scars better than she did. “Serelda often helps me in the shower. She knows I don’t like to touch the scars, so she helps with the washcloth when I can’t move past it. I hold her at night when she has nightmares.”