"What are you smiling about?"
He'd smiled? He was so lost in finally being able to touch her, he'd zoned out a bit himself.
"How much I love touching your body. How much I've missed you."
A cloud crossed her face. Crap. That wasn't the right thing to say. Hoping to get her attention back to where it belonged, he leaned forward and captured her lower lip between his and sucked until he heard her hiss. He sucked even harder, and she placed her hands on his shoulders, as if to control how close he could get. He noticed she wasn't pushing him away, so his tongue traced the curve of her upper lip. She shivered. He took her full lower lip between his lips again and sucked gently. Savi's body shuddered with an intensity that set off the responsive jerking of his dick.
Sorry, Chico, you aren't getting any. So behave.
He wished he could see her eyes to see if she was as aroused as she seemed to be, but he didn't want to pull away. His lips released hers, and his nipped a trail along her cheek to the column of her neck. Her pulses tripped against his lips and fingers.
Emboldened, he let his finger trail down her bra strap. Her nipple protruded against the underside of his wrist, but he fought hard not to zero in on the target too quickly. He'd just scare her off.
Damián sat back and leaned his head in his hand as he looked down, watching his middle finger trail a path around the side of her breast. She had smaller breasts than he remembered, but didn't they say more than a mouthful was a waste? He'd die a happy man if he ever got the chance to sample a mouthful of Savi again.
His dick strained against his zipper and he made sure he wasn't pressed against her leg. Didn't want to send her running. Savi was letting him touch her. He didn't want the moment to end.
His fingers cupped the underside of Savi's breast and he brushed her nipple with the pad of his thumb. She drew in a sharp breath, but her pupils dilated.
"That's it, bebé. Just feel."
He brushed against her nipple again and it rose against his thumb. Her breathing became shallow and rapid.
"I can't do this." She didn't push his hand away or safeword, so he continued to stimulate her.
"You don't have to do anything, bebé. Just feel."
"I don't want to feel like this."
"What's wrong with feeling pleasure, Savi?"
She tensed and turned her head away. "It's dirty."
"There's nothing dirty about two consenting adults wanting to touch each other. I'm a consenting adult. How about you?"
She nodded.
"Then there's no problem." He took her swollen bud between his thumb and middle finger and rolled it gently. Her hips bucked toward him.
Yeah, bebé. Just feel.
He started to lower his head to her nipple, but she scooted away. Leaning back, his gaze locked with hers.
Stay with me, mi mariposa.
He moved his hand up to her shoulder again and stroked it until she relaxed. Her mouth opened as she fought to get more oxygen. She closed her eyes.
That's it, Savita. Open for me.
Emboldened, he lowered his lips to her nipple and wrapped them around her peak, shirt and all. He expected her to push him away, but heard a distinct moan instead. As his body slid down the bed, he took the hard bud between his teeth—pulling…nipping…teasing.
Her hands pushed against his shoulder. "Stop! What are you doing to me?"
He looked up her body and made eye contact, gauging her response. "Did you mean 'stop' or 'hot tamale'?"
She groaned in frustration. "I don't know what I mean anymore."
"If you say 'hot tamale,' I'll stop immediately."
Damián bent down again and tugged her nipple with his mouth as his hand explored her firm breast. Her breath hitched. She was responding to his touch, rather than running away. Better. The bud swelled against his tongue, sending his dick into spasms.
So sweet. So responsive.
So mine.
Unable to stop himself, as if he wanted to, he draped his leg over both of her thighs and pushed her lower body into the mattress as his lips devoured her nipple. He'd waited so long. Missed her so much. He brushed his hand over her midriff to her lower abdomen and wondered if her belly had stretch marks from carrying his baby. He longed to traced the path of each one with his tongue, but they would only remind him of all he'd missed from that time in Savi's life. Instead, he continued to suckle as his hand kneaded her flesh.
His hand moved toward the juncture of her thighs. The tight jeans kept him from getting inside them, so he stroked her clit through the denim.
Savi tensed and stopped breathing.
Before he could back off to give her breathing room, she shoved him away with more force than he would have expected and scooted to the other edge of the bed, crouching on all fours and gasping for air in fear, rather than arousal, as he'd hoped.
Damián forced himself to regain control of his libido. What the hell had happened? He hadn't intended for things to move that fast, he just hadn't been able to stop himself. He was acting like a fucking horny teenager. Again. He fought to regain control of his own breathing. Damián hated losing control like that.
The shuttered look in her eyes told him she'd gone to ground again. Clearly he'd hit another trigger. No wonder, given the way she'd been mauled by the men in her past.
"Savi, you're with me. Damián. You're okay. I'm not going to hurt you."
He forced himself to keep his voice calm, but raged inside at the men who had abused her beautiful body and stolen her innocence. He wished he could drive his fist through each of their god-damned faces.
Her chest heaved as she fought for control, as well. Soon, the wild-eyed look left her gaze.
"That's right, bebé. It's just me." He pointed to his bare chest. "I won't hurt you, mi sueño." He waited for her to focus on him again. "Where did you go?"
She blinked again. "Go?"
"You zoned out on me when I touched your clit."
If it were possible, she grew even stiffer. "You touched me…there?"
Mierda. He'd like to think she'd noticed. A flush blazed a path across her cheeks. She continued to inch away from him until she got off the bed, turned, and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
Fuck.
Damián pounded his fist into the mattress, but got no satisfaction from the impact with such a soft surface. He needed to maintain control of himself, especially when everything else was spiraling out of his control. Damn it. Savi didn't need for him to be in barbarian mode when she came back to him.
Dios, he hoped she'd come back and give him another chance. Discovering her triggers was like walking through a fucking minefield.
Could he ever reach her sexually again, break down the walls she'd built since he'd left her at her mansion on the hill in Rancho all those years ago? What the hell had they done to her there?
The chances of her ever letting him get close enough to explore an intimate relationship with him were about as likely as his regrowing his foot.
* * *
Savi splashed cold water on her face and sucked air into her lungs, trying to regain control. Her body's traitorous responses to Damián's mouth and touch confused her. Something stirred that had long been buried deep inside. Something ugly. She didn't want to respond to a man's touch ever again. Just now, in his bedroom, her body had betrayed her for the first time since…
Father and Lyle had forced her to orgasm with beatings and endless sex toys until she lay emotionally and physically exhausted. They'd pimped out her body to their potential business clients with only one restriction—no penetration. The sadistic ones beat her until she screamed, then ejaculated on her body. She shuddered, her stomach heaving against the memories.
When Damián had touched her clit, images of her father, Lyle, and the endless succession of men in the hotel penthouse swirled through her mind. She felt like she was in the throes of a spell of vertigo. Dizzy, sick at her stomach.
She stood up and looked
at herself in the mirror. Slut. She'd enjoyed the touch of those men at times, too, even if unwillingly. How could she face Damián again? Did he know what she was? Maybe if she just told him, she could cut to the chase and he'd kick her out. She shook her head. No. She couldn't risk having Mari placed at risk because Damián had learned the truth about her mother's past.
She could never say those words aloud. No one could ever know.
Dirty slut.
No! Bile rose in her throat and her image swam in the mirror. She squeezed her eyes shut. Savi needed to get out of here. She glanced over her shoulder at the door. Smart move. She was in an interior bathroom with no means of escape, unless she faced him again. She wished she had her phone. Maybe her therapist could give her some advice about what to do. They'd never really dealt much with the sexual issues during her recovery and therapy because Savi had had no intention of ever being a sexual creature again. She'd flatly refused to go there.
But with Damián…
Oh dear lord. He did things to her mind and body she wasn't prepared for.
Pain. A piercing pain stabbed her chest. She needed relief. The room spun…
Crouched in the corner, the tub at her back and the floor tiles cold against her leg, Savi looked down at the steel razor blade lying on the floor beside her. She fought to control the shaking of her hand. How had she gotten here? Had she cut herself? No. Not yet. No blood was visible.
A fire burned beneath her skin, but at the same time she had chill bumps over her entire body. Pain. She couldn't escape the pain.
Don't cut yourself.
Focus on your breathing.
Her therapist's and Anita's voices played in a continuous loop in her head. The pain would go away if she could just focus on her breathing. She'd succeeded in controlling it that way for years. Why wasn't it helping this time? The pain was excruciating; she needed release. Nothing else would help.
Dirty slut.
Damián had to know the truth now. She'd responded to his touch like the dirty slut she was. She watched the razor blade move closer to her arm, as if she and her body had separated and she hovered on the ceiling watching the scene below. Slowly the woman rolled up the sleeve of her T-shirt.
Over her forearm.
You wanted me to touch you there.
Beyond her elbow.
You asked for it.
Higher and higher she raised the sleeve until she'd exposed the tracks of skin where she'd cut herself before. The twisted coping mechanism had begun when she was a teenager, soon after she'd escaped from her father's ungodly prison, and had continued until Mari was three.
Breathe.
Her hand shook even harder as Savi reached for the razor blade.
No, don't! Breathe.
She fought to reconnect with the woman huddled in the corner, sweat pouring from her forehead, gooseflesh all over her body. Despite the disconnection, Savi knew the fires of hell burned beneath the woman's skin.
Relief. She needed relief.
The woman picked up the razor blade. Her hand stopped shaking as it moved closer to her arm. It had been so long since she'd gotten relief this way from the pain; so long since she'd needed to escape this badly. Perhaps the only way she'd managed to avoid cutting herself all these years was her need to keep the promise she'd made to her therapist never to have razor blades around, but Damián used them in his razor. She'd found a new pack of them in the medicine cabinet soon after she'd sought refuge in here.
She'd never been able to stand the sight of blood. Why did she choose this means of hurting herself?
Not hurting. Helping.
Her heart raced, the hammering almost deafening. Would her heart explode before she could ease the pain? Hurry. Savi couldn't shed tears for herself, but her blood weeping from her skin helped eased the pressure. The pain.
Please. Wash away my pain and shame.
No! She pulled the blade away before she'd connected with her skin. She couldn't do this, never again. Mari needed a mother who was strong, in control. This was a sign of weakness.
Breathe.
She drew a deep breath and leaned her head against the wall, watching the razor blade fall in slow motion, hearing it clatter against the floor tiles as if she stood at the opposite end of a long tunnel.
"Madre de Dios! What are you doing, Savi?" Large brown hands grabbed her upper arms and tried to lift her from the floor. "Stand up."
Damián.
Her legs were like soft rubber. Her gaze remained fixed on his hand on her arm, covering many of the tracks she'd made so many years ago.
He released her and walked to the sink. She heard water running, then he knelt beside her. She tore her gaze away from her arm and looked up at him. Disappointment. Fear. Determination. He took a white washcloth and wiped her face, the wet cloth against her numb skin didn't ease the aching she felt. He went back to the sink to rinse it out. When he returned, he pressed the cloth on her head, draped over her forehead.
"I stopped this time."
Damián looked at her as if she'd just sprouted a second head. She couldn't bear the look of disappointment in his eyes, and focused once more on her arm. He would send her away now. Perhaps he should. She never should have brought her problems into his world.
Too broken. She'd thought she'd healed, but she'd only buried the biggest hurts deep down inside, hoping they would never be uncovered.
"Savi, look at me."
She hadn't learned to cope with her shame one bit in all these years.
"Now."
Savi dragged her gaze from her arm to Damián's intense scrutiny. Something inside shriveled up and tried to die.
But he wouldn't leave her alone.
"Why did you try to cut yourself, Savi?" He looked at her arm and her gaze followed, as if to assure herself she hadn't succeeded. "Dios, it's not even the first time." His hand cupped her chin and forced her to look at him. "Did I do this? My God, if I'd known, I wouldn't have touched you like that." The pain in his eyes hurt. She'd never wanted to hurt Damián.
"No, it's not your fault. It's me."
Dirty slut.
He'd only done what the dirty slut had wanted him to do. To touch her. To connect with. She'd lain on the bed with him.
You asked for it.
When he moved away from her, she knew he was going to leave her, as he should. She'd tried to do a bad thing. She should be punished. Still, the thought of him leaving her left her feeling lost. Scared.
She didn't want to be alone anymore.
Damián picked up the razor blade and dropped it in the wastebasket. He removed the cloth from her head and went to the sink to scrub his hands with soap and water, washing away the filth from touching the dirty whore she was. After drying his hands, he returned and bent down.
"Come on. Stand up." He took her by the elbows and tried to lift her. Frustration tore across his face. "Savi, I can't lift you from the floor. You'll have to help me."
Help him what? When he pulled at her elbows again, she realized dazedly what he wanted. She wanted to help him, to please him, and pushed his hands away, then scrambled to her knees. When she stood, she swayed on her feet from rising too quickly. Damián caught her and lifted her into his arms.
"No! Put me down. Your foot!"
A low growl emitted from his throat and Savi knew not to protest any further. She didn't want him to get angry. He passed the bed and carried her into the living room, putting her back on her feet in front of the sofa. He sat down, and then pulled her into his lap.
"No. This is wrong!" She struggled to get away, but he held her firmly.
"No, bebé. I need to feel you in my arms right now. This is very, very right." He guided her head to his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around her upper body. She held herself rigid, expecting him to touch her again. But he didn't move; just held her.
"You scared the hell out of me, Savi. I didn't know you were hurting this badly. I'm so sorry."
Don't be kind to me. I don't de
serve it.
Now that he knew she was a dirty slut, why did he still want to hold her?
His hand stroked her upper arm and she relaxed a little. There was nothing more she could do. Maybe this was good-bye. Needing to be in control, she decided she'd speak the words first. "We'll leave soon. Just don't tell Mari why we couldn't stay." Savi didn't want her daughter ever to find out what her mother was. When she started to get off his lap, he stopped her again.
Damián lifted his head off hers and tucked his index finger under her chin until she met his gaze. "What the fuck are you talking about leaving for?"
She looked into his eyes and saw…confusion? Anger. "I thought you wanted me to leave."
"What gave you that idea? You two aren't going anywhere."
Of course. This Marine had accepted a mission and wouldn't stop until he'd met his objective. It was his responsibility to protect Mari and her. Thank God he was such an honorable man. Savi had done a very poor job of keeping Mari safe. Lyle had come too close for comfort to her daughter. They needed Damián. He wouldn't abandon them, even if he wanted to.
His voice was gentle, understanding. "We need to talk about what happened in there."
Savi shook her head and shifted on his lap. What on earth was she doing in his lap? She was broadcasting the wrong message, if she didn't want him to touch her.
You know you wanted it, too, Savannah.
No! I didn't!
"We're only going to talk, mi mariposa." He cupped her chin and gently tilted her head back until she met his gaze. "Don't even think about flitting away from me—physically or mentally. ¿Comprende?" She nodded. "We'll talk about the bathroom incident in a minute, but first I want to know what led you to run like that. What happened in the bedroom?"
"I told you it wouldn't work. You should have listened to me."
"Oh, everything was working just fine, if you'll recall."
Her face grew warm, and she pulled away from his hand, looking down at her hands in her lap. He was right. She had responded to him. Why now? She'd buried those feelings for so long, hoping never to experience them again.
Nobody's Perfect Page 16