I pressed my hand flat to his chest, just because I wanted to feel him, to connect, because I was intent on finishing my story. At least the part I could tell him. “I . . . I think they felt so guilty over what happened to me, they overreacted. They pulled me out of public school and my mom homeschooled me. I grew so comfortable in the shelter of my parents’ house with no other kids around, I got to the point where I was afraid to leave it. The truth is, I never really learned how to function comfortably in public situations. I learned to control my stuttering for the most part, unless I’m excited or nervous. But still, I stayed under my parents’ protective wings, until I came here for college.”
He kissed my forehead, and I snuggled farther into him, resting my head in the crook of his arm. “It was a big deal for me to come to Michigan. My parents were terrified they wouldn’t be close to keep an eye on me. But I knew I had to make a change or I’d always be dependent on them. The first year here, I barely spoke to anyone, just watched and observed and went to my classes, but my confidence slowly grew. Then when I moved in here, Indy became my first real friend. It’s been so good for me.”
Remorse left me with a heavy sigh. “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t let people take advantage of me. I always see the best in people. T-trust them when they don’t deserve it. That’s why I’m scared,” I emphasized, twining our fingers together with our free hands, praying he could understand where all my reservations stemmed from.
Because I hadn’t had a bad life. I’d just had circumstances that made me different.
“And the center today?” he asked, lifting our hands up between us, studying the contrast of our skin in the dim light of my room, mine almost white against his golden tan.
A wide smile took over my face. “Those are my kids . . . they all have hearing or speech disorders of one kind or another. It’s a support group I run . . . more fun for them than anything, a safe place where they all feel they belong. But it’s my internship, too, part of my schoolwork for my degree.”
“Your degree?”
“Speech pathologist,” I said, almost shy. “For children. I just want to help them. . . . I overcame so much when I was little, and some really wonderful people helped me. Now I want to help other kids the same way.” I drew my shoulder up to my ear in a self-conscious shrug. “It fits, don’t you think?”
A low chuckle rumbled up his chest, and he kissed the back of my hand, our fingers still twisted together. “Yeah, it definitely fits.” The intense emotion in his hazel eyes deepened, flashed with something I didn’t quite recognize, almost a blend of anger and devotion. “It all makes sense now.”
Darryn pushed his weight to one of his hands, moving over me. Slowly I rolled onto my back, led by his motion, that strong chest hovering over me with his body still off to my side. My nerve endings ratcheted up, all those darts of energy rapid-firing across my skin as his eyes changed and everything between us became charged, heightened to a level I’d never experienced. One that had me trembling below him.
He touched my face. “You’re amazing, Misha.”
Heat blazed up my throat, and Darryn dipped down, pressing his mouth to the oversensitive skin. He trailed kisses up and down along the hollow of my neck, up to beneath my ear.
I whimpered, and he brought his mouth to mine, shifting his weight over me, his knee wedged between my thighs. “Is this okay?” he asked, leaning back to run his hands down my sides.
“Yes.”
He continued his assault, kissing every exposed inch of skin on my chest and shoulders, moving to my face, trailing sweet kisses over my closed lids. He ran his nose down between the swell of my breasts exposed over the top of my tank.
“And this?” he whispered, almost urgently—almost as urgently as the need stampeding through my veins. “Tell me when to stop, because I don’t know if I can trust myself not to push you too far. You have no idea how badly I want you.”
And the crazy thing was I didn’t want him to stop, but I needed him to. I pulled back, tipping my head to force him to look at me. All that shyness came rushing to my face, flaming with the fire he’d set inside me. I blinked, murmuring my plea. “Just . . . respect me . . . Be patient with me.” My tongue darted out to my lips. “Above all, be honest with me.”
He hefted the air from his lungs, and again I was slammed with all that was Darryn—all soap and sex and man.
He pulled back and settled down at my side. And right there, in that one action, he earned a huge piece of my trust. Because he did know when to stop. He could have continued, and I would have let him. But he didn’t.
He pulled me into the sanctuary of his arms, right up against his beating heart. “I’ll take care of you, Misha,” he said. The words sounded like the most solemn of promises.
Maybe my boy-man-god really was my avenging angel. Darryn the Destroyer. Sent to rescue me. To slay all the beasts that had held me captive.
I guess I really wanted a fairy tale, after all.
chapter ten
Misha
“Oh my gosh . . . stop!” I pled. Breathless giggles built up in my belly and rolled through my entire body before they spilled from my mouth.
My cries only encouraged Darryn. Hazel eyes gleamed with all that mischief, and his deft fingers made another assault on my sides, tickling my ribs. It might have hurt if being near him didn’t feel so good.
I flailed and kicked my legs, howling with laughter as I twisted and turned and tried to pull myself out of his reach.
Darryn only leaned in farther, pinning my back to the small table in the nook of his kitchen. “You asked for it.”
“You’re going to make me pee my pants,” I yelped, thinking that just might do the trick considering that our bodies were in a very compromised position, his overpowering mine as I struggled under him.
No such luck.
“Really?” he dared, leaning in a little farther, digging in a little deeper. “Come on, let’s see it, Misha.” His smell enveloped me like a big, huge hug. A hug that came with an overwhelming surge of desire. Because who could blame me?
This boy-man-god was mine.
He’d been mine for more than a month.
Was it wrong it’d been the single best month of my life?
Darryn pulled back a fraction, just enough to allow me to drag a gulping breath into my lungs. Even though he had me at his mercy, there was so much softness in his eyes, so much restraint in his hands, so much goodness in his heart, I knew he’d never hurt me. There was no mistaking it.
He pushed back and dragged the hem of my shirt up, exposing my stomach. His mouth went for my side, tickling me in a whole new way as he suckled at my skin.
I squealed, my hips doing their best to buck Darryn from me, but there was nothing I could do to stop him from leaving his mark.
He pulled back and glanced up at me with a smirk before he turned back to his handiwork. “Perfect,” he said, rubbing his thumb over the flaming skin that he’d exposed just above my hip.
I wondered if it could possibly be as red as my face.
So yeah, he was still a total punk. Arrogant and sly. But God help me if I didn’t like that about him, too.
He’d told me a month ago he just wanted to mean something to me.
Little did he know he was slowly becoming everything.
I sobered a little, reaching out to brush my fingers through the flop of hair that had fallen on his forehead. Slowly he helped me up to sitting, and he plopped down on a chair in front of where my legs dangled off the side of the table, wedging himself between my knees. He looked up at me, his expression so sweet it twisted something loose inside my heart. A smile pulled at his mouth, and he touched my chin, tilting it, quietly inspecting my face. “I love that blush,” he whispered, fluttering his fingers over it like he wished it were palpable, something tangible he could ball up in his hand and hide away.