I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2)(68)

We go into the bathroom, and Kay leans back against the vanity counter. I need her more at eye level to better assess the damage to her cheek, so I lift her up so she can just sit on top of the damn thing. Sweet girl scoots back a little and I step between her knees. As she lowers the ice bag, I take it from her and set it on the counter.

The fluorescent lighting in the small space shows me everything I need to see.

“Motherf*cker,” I swear under my breath.

There’s an angry red mark on Kay’s cheek and her flesh is slightly swollen. She winces when I touch her there.

“Who did this to you?” I ask. “Who do I have to f*ck up? Give me a name.”

When she shrugs and says she doesn’t know the guy’s name, I say, “Then, give me a description.”

I lift the ice pack and place it back against her cheek—as gently as possible—and she tells me what I need to know.

A junkie, built like a fireplug—short and stocky, not as skinny as the others. He’s wearing black pants and heavy boots, also black. He has on an orange plaid shirt, but it’s faded and soiled. “Got it,” I say when she’s done.

She touches the hand that holds the ice. “What are you going to do, Chase? Don’t get into trouble. Please. And don’t get hurt.”

At this last, I scoff. I tell her not to worry, this isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve taken out far tougher and crazier motherf*ckers than this *. And I still remember how to lay low and stay under the radar. I won’t get caught.

When I finish speaking, she gasps. “God, Chase, don’t kill him or anything. He’s not worth that.”

I laugh and push hair back from her face. I kiss the cheek that’s not hurting. “I’m not going to kill anyone, baby. But this loser has to pay for what he’s done to you. No one—and I mean no one—raises a hand to my girl and gets away with it.”

She makes me put down the ice and urges me to come closer. I am there in an instant, parting her sweet lips with my own. My tongue touches hers and I taste my girl, all sugar and honey. I position my body between her legs, and she scoots forward. Sweet girl pressing up against me, denim and the light material of my basketball shorts the only barriers separating us. I get hard in an instant, I can’t help it. Adrenaline and lust fuel my libido. I suspect Kay feels similar emotions. After what happened to her, she’s surely pumped on adrenaline—and now, lust—as well.

So I am not the least bit surprised when she moans into my mouth and wraps her legs around me. I try to hold her in place, but she moves nonetheless, roughly, desperately. She grinds her hot little center against my cock as our mouths move together. I groan and try to behave, but I can’t help but push farther into her, feeling her heat since the fabrics separating us are so damn thin.

Our hips keep moving together, even when our mouths break apart. My amped-up girl leans back on one arm and watches my eyes. I see something primal in hers. The hand not holding her upright is in my hair. She licks her lips, and tugs and pulls with her fingers, making my head jerk back a little. It hurts like f*ck and I wince in pain, but also in pleasure. I let baby girl take this aggression out on me. She needs to feel back in control. And, hell, it’s not like I don’t like it. Frankly, it’s turning me on even more. But when her hand leaves my hair and travels down my chest, and she reaches into the waistband of my shorts, I stop her.

“Why not?” she asks, her quickened breaths making her voice waver.

Kay’s been through a traumatic experience and what she’s feeling is tension turned into something sexual; her body is seeking release. Under any other circumstances I’d roll with it, but not when all we’ve ever done up to this point is make out. Besides, I have an * to take care of. Later, I’ll take care of Kay.

She keeps pushing, grinding, and all-out pleading with her eyes. “You really want our first time to be on the counter?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. She slows her movements, smiles, and shakes her head.

I kiss her some more, just nice and gently. Her hips rock a little with mine, but far less frantically. We move in slow and gentle motions, just savoring the reactions we’re able to elicit from each other.

This is what Kay really needs right now, soft touching and caring. When we’re together, I want to love her just like this.

Soon everything slows, and then stops completely. Kay asks me to just hold her. I do, and we stay wrapped up in each other’s arms for several minutes. I console and try to help my girl find all the fortitude she needs to start to heal.

“I’ll always be here for you,” I whisper in her ear. And it’s true—I don’t plan on ever leaving this woman’s side.

She pulls back slightly, caramel-browns searching mine. “Really?” she asks, doubt and hope and about a hundred other f*cking emotions I can’t begin to figure out in her gaze.

My slaughtered and abused heart beats harder and stronger. Kay heals me. I marvel at how hard I’ve f*cking fallen for this girl. “Yes, really,” I say back.

“Why?”

“Do you really need to ask?” My voice is soft and choked on emotion.

“Tell me, Chase. Tell me what I think I already know. Tell me what you’re feeling. I feel it too, I do.”

My slaughtered heart stitches back together, more solid than ever.

“I love you,” I whisper. “I love you so f*cking much, baby girl.”