Burn (Breathless #3)(32)

Ash frowned but didn’t interrupt her.

“When I told him it was over, he demanded to know why.”

She broke off, glancing away, folding her hands in her lap as she presented her profile to him. He pulled her tighter against him, molding her to his body. He could feel her pulse, how agitated she’d become.

“What happened then?” he asked softly.

“I told him that he couldn’t give me the things another man had promised me,” she whispered.

Ash’s hold tightened further. “Go on.”

“He freaked. I mean completely lost it. The words were barely out of my mouth when he slapped me. I was so shocked that I didn’t even know what to do. And then he was standing over me, where I’d fallen, and he hit me again. He wrapped his hands in my hair and accused me of cheating on him. Told me that he’d handled me far too gently. That if he’d been the way he should have with me this would have never happened, that I would have never cheated.”

“Son of a bitch,” Ash ground out. “I’ll kill him for this.”

She shook her head violently. “No! Ash, leave it alone. It’s done with. It’s over.”

“The hell it is!”

He calmed his breathing and forced the rage from his mind and eased his grip on her arm where his fingers had dug into her skin. She would wear no marks from him. None that weren’t given in passion and tenderness. None that she wouldn’t want to wear.

“I should have gone to the police,” she said in a low voice. “I should have pressed charges. Had him arrested. But God, I was just in shock. And then I felt so . . . stupid. How could I not have seen this in him? That capacity for violence? How could I have had sex with him and never known what lay underneath his façade? When I think of what could have happened. I trusted him. Implicitly. I gave him full access to my body. He could have done anything to me. It’s why . . .”

She broke off, going silent against him. He pushed her hair from her battered cheek and then pressed a kiss to the bruised flesh.

“Why what?” he asked gently.

She closed her eyes. “It’s why I didn’t call you. Why I didn’t come to you. Why I didn’t accept what you offered. I was . . . afraid.”

He tensed, his gaze focusing intently on her. “Afraid of me?”

She nodded miserably.

He sucked in his breath. He understood. He didn’t like hearing it, but he understood.

“I get it,” he said, stroking his hand up her arm. “You thought because you misjudged him so badly that you couldn’t trust your judgment of me and my intentions.”

She nodded again.

“I understand, but Josie, you need to get this. I am not Michael.”

She glanced back up at him, hope stirring in her eyes. She wanted to believe him. Wanted to trust herself and her instincts where he was concerned.

“I will never hurt you,” he said, the vow coming solemnly from his lips. “If we have issues, we work them out. And it does not involve me raising my hand to you. Ever.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

“Come here,” he murmured, stretching his other arm to her.

She didn’t hesitate and promptly buried herself against his chest. He wrapped both arms around her and held her close, breathing in her scent.

“Pisses me off that you’ll wear those bruises for several more days. I don’t like seeing them, but more than me not liking to see them is you having to see them and remember him hurting you.”

“I’m okay,” she said against his chest.

“You’re not. Yet. But you will be,” he promised. “Give me that, Josie. Give me the chance to show you that we’re right together. I get that you’re gun-shy right now and that you’re doubting yourself, but give yourself into my care. Give me that chance. You won’t regret it.”

She was silent for a long moment, one that had him on edge as he waited for her acceptance.

Then she gave it. One simple word, laced with uncertainty but quiet determination.

“Okay.”

His own chest caved in a bit. He breathed in and out for several seconds before squeezing her to him.

“Sleep now, Josie. Tomorrow we’ll decide what to do about your apartment.”

He held her just as he was doing until her body went lax against his and the soft, even sounds of her breathing filled his ears. And still he waited, tense, replaying every word she’d said earlier. The fear in her voice. The self-condemnation. The image of her lying on the floor, Michael standing over her while he hurt her made it impossible for him to sleep.

It was well past midnight when he quietly picked up his cell phone from the nightstand and punched Jace’s number from his contacts list.

“What the hell?” his friend mumbled into the phone. “This better be good, Ash.”

“I need an alibi,” Ash said.

There was a long silence.

“Jesus. Fuck! What the hell, man? Do you need help? What’s going on?”

Ash glanced down at Josie, her eyelashes resting on her cheeks, the shadow of a bruise still on her face.

“Not now. But soon. Right now Josie needs me. She needs comfort and peace. And she needs to know that I will never hurt her. For now, I’m going to spend every minute making sure she knows this. But then I’m going after the bastard who put these bruises on her face and I’ll need you to help provide an alibi if it becomes necessary.”