Giving In (Surrender Trilogy #2)(70)

“Come inside with me, Kylie,” he said, his voice quiet but also tender.

She glanced back up at him to see the warmth in his eyes. His sincerity. His love for her and his understanding.

He tugged her hand and guided her to the front door. Once inside, he directed her toward the bedroom.

“Get undressed for bed,” he said. “We’ll talk while I’m holding you.”

Relief fluttered through her throat and chest. They were okay. She was okay.

She changed into a pair of pajamas while he stripped down to his boxers. Then he climbed into bed, pulling back the covers and patting the spot beside him.

She went readily, snuggling up against his body. Her self-admonishment from earlier still rang in her mind. It was time to back her words with action. Prove to him that she did trust him. She could start by being more openly affectionate and willing to get close to him without coaxing.

“Now, I want you to listen to me,” he said in a firm voice.

He stroked one hand through her hair and then down her arm. His fingertips lightly grazed her skin, sending chill bumps dancing in their wake.

“Just because my hands were tied to the bed during the act of our lovemaking, and yes, it is lovemaking, doesn’t mean we had mindless sex. You gave me something very precious both times. Your trust.”

“How can you say that when I tied you up both times?” she asked fretfully.

He squeezed her to him with one strong arm. “Because you went through with it. We made beautiful love. I came inside you. That’s as beautiful as it gets, baby.”

She sighed and deeply inhaled his scent, letting it surround and comfort her agitation.

He kissed the top of her head. “I love you, Kylie. My love isn’t conditional on how we have sex or if we have it for that matter.”

“I’m glad,” she said, her voice muffled by his body. “I want to be normal, Jensen. I just don’t know how to be.”

He laughed softly, a slight ache in his voice. “Fuck normal. We’ve already had this conversation and you already know my feelings on the subject.”

She sighed and closed her eyes, enjoying him wrapped around her. Solid. So strong. Her rock.

For several long moments silence fell between them. A comfortable silence neither sought to end. And then she felt him tense slightly against her, as if he were preparing to say something.

She reared her head back, seeking out his gaze.

“Are you ready to talk to me, baby? About your past?”

His dark eyes swept her face intently, concern and love reflected in his expression.

Her breath hitched and her pulse sped up, as did her respirations. It was stupid, really. It was just words. Memories. They couldn’t hurt her unless she let them.

And this was the last barrier between them. The last piece of the trust puzzle.

“Yeah,” she quietly whispered. “I am.”

He squeezed her again and pressed an encouraging kiss on her forehead. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

She hugged his body to hers. It surprised her, that she wasn’t on the verge of a panic attack over the idea of relating something so deeply personal. Something she had never confided in anyone. Not even Carson. She realized she wanted—needed—to unburden herself. Finally.

“I don’t even know where to start,” she said. Tears burned the edges of her eyes and she swallowed back the knot already forming in her throat.

“At the beginning. Or wherever you like. I’m here to listen.”

“He was always abusive,” she said, her voice trembling. “I don’t ever remember him not being. I can barely remember my mother, so I don’t know if she was any better than he was. My feelings are influenced by the fact she left me and Carson with that ass**le. How does a mother just leave like that?”

Jensen tensed and she bit into her lip, sorry that she’d made that remark so soon after Jensen had confided his own mother’s desertion. She’d never really considered just how much she and Jensen had in common. Two halves to a whole.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a distressed voice. The last thing she wanted was to pull Jensen back into his own past. Hers was bad enough.

“No, baby, no. Don’t apologize. You need to talk about this with someone who loves you. Someone who will listen. Tonight isn’t about me. It’s about you.”

She nodded and then squeezed her eyes tightly shut. The rest was . . . hard. Shame and a sense of degradation burned through her memories.

“He raped me for the first time when I was thirteen.”

Jensen went rigid next to her. She curled her fingers into his chest, needing something solid, tangible. He slid his hand between them, splaying over hers.

“And there was violence. So much violence,” she whispered. “Nothing Carson and I ever did was right. When he was drunk, he always targeted Carson. But it was when he was completely sober that he directed his ire toward me. I could almost understand, well not really, but it would make more sense if he was just a mean drunk and he only became abusive when he was drinking. It was the vengeful targeting of me when he was fully cognizant of what he was doing that frightened me the most. It seemed so personal.

“At least with Carson it always seemed to be a case of Carson being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s a sad testament that I felt safer as long as he was drinking.”