“But you are.”

“Nick, it took days after the attack before I looked myself in the mirror. Three weeks before I let something other than scalding water in the shower touch me. Six weeks before I even realized I was pregnant. And then it took another two before I faced you.”

“That doesn’t make you weak. You can’t expect to heal from that so quickly.”

“I have to,” I said. “I don’t have a choice. Not with Darius, not with the companies, not with Bumper. I need that confidence.”

“You have it.”

“I don’t.” I flushed. “I don’t trust what I feel.”

“What do you feel?”

I whispered it. “Desire.”

It was the wrong emotion to admit to a Bennett, but Nicholas understood that forbidden, oppressive feeling more than any.

“That’s natural, Sarah.”

“Is it? Even after the things you’ve done to me. What happened with Darius?” My mouth dried. “I feel something for the first time since he hurt me, but it only reminds me how little control I’ve always had over my own body. You made every decision for me. You took me. You gave me to Max and Reed. And then Darius…had what he wanted.”

Nicholas had no counter. I didn’t expect one.

“Every moment I spent in your arms was wonderful.” I met his gaze. “But I can’t be taken anymore. I need to take that control back. I need to make the choice to be with you.”

“It’s yours.”

“No, it’s not. Not yet.”

And it wasn’t. I wanted him too much for all the wrong reasons. His touch. His comfort. We had been so complete, and now, it wasn’t me fracturing. It was us. Flaking and disintegrating within the truth and fear of how deeply I loved him.

“Tell me what I can do,” he said. “Let me help.”

“You can’t help, Nick. I panic if you even touch me.”

The thought struck me. I hadn’t touched him yet, but I knew what would happen when I fell in his arms. Nicholas Bennett would either catch me or toss me into the dark chasm I only just escaped.

I clawed my way to freedom once. I didn’t want to do it again.

But the only way to recover, to let myself heal was to take that leap and hope I caught myself before I tumbled down, down, down into the hell below.

It only took a small movement. Something simple. Something safe.

I whispered. “I should touch you.”

“What?”

“Just to prove to myself it isn’t something to fear. Just one touch.”

Nicholas held my gaze. “Just one touch?”

I seized a breath.

Then another.

And I reached for him.

He mimicked my motion. Our fingers brushed, palm-to-palm. My hand didn’t fit in his, and the strength from his rough size should have intimidated me.

It didn’t.

The surge of warmth wasn’t just a touch, it was a connection. The same that had always existed, crushed and lost, still beating an endless pulse of promise between us.

The relief burst with my shuddered breath. I touched him. Such an easy motion, but it was my choice, my decision to let him that close. I pressed my hand against his and didn’t brace for a fight or struggle. I prepared to be overwhelmed by his passion, tossed onto the bed with desires I hardly understood. But he let me feel us together. A promise kept.

“Just a touch.” His words soothed, melting wax that warmed but didn’t burn.

So much more. The gold in his eyes stilled me. The familiarity of Darius’s features slowly faded, revealing a man hardened by grief and strengthened by the same touch, the same words, the same feelings that protected me from the memory.

My confidence surged, and I wove my fingers between his. He moved only when I moved, acted only when I initiated.

My breathing shuddered. Nicholas’s touch usually stirred me too quickly, too fiercely. I couldn’t understand why I so easily surrendered to a man I should have hated and fought with my remaining strength.

But Nicholas gave me strength. He warmed, soothed, and protected, even when he couldn’t save me from all danger. I survived for him.

I touched him.

He touched me.

Our heartbeats pulsed in time, and the heat wrapped me in a layer of comfort that flared more than the feelings I denied.

I came alive. The twisting in my core was no longer a confused and dreadful reaction. I let myself desire.

And I wanted more.

“Just a touch,” I said.

Nicholas nodded. “Whatever you need, Sarah.”

“It’s just a touch.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“For now it does. I can’t separate what I want from what’s right.” I somehow leaned too close, twisting my other hand with his. I braved twice the heat, twice the brush of our skin. “I can’t protect myself if I’m not whole.”

“Tell me where the pieces are, and I’ll fit them together.”

The pieces scattered, but I could collect them all if I regained my confidence. Explored the part of me enthralled by such a simple touch. It empowered me to set my own limits. And Nicholas was willing to let me guide myself through my own recovery.

I couldn’t surrender again to my obsession with him, but I needed one more step.

“Just a kiss.” I hardly recognized the word.

“A kiss.”

I swallowed. I squeezed his hands to hide my trembling.

“Just one kiss.”

I meant it to prove my strength, that I would not fear the overwhelming presence of a man who took and gave, forced and loved.

Nicholas set his jaw. “One kiss.”

I seized and breath as my eyes fluttered closed. I brushed my lips against his, quickly. Only a brief bump.

I shouldn’t have feared it.

The familiarity, the loving nibble, the comfort enthralled me. My delight teased in a freed shudder. His lips guided, but he demanded nothing. The thrill of his gentleness summoned a quiet mew from me.

If he heard it, he didn’t respond, but his hands inadvertently tightened their hold.

It didn’t scare me. I wanted more. More kisses, more touches.

I parted my lips and let the one kiss draw me deeper, savoring the relief. I shivered until I trembled so deep my hands shook, captured within Nicholas’s palms. I pulled a hand free only to brush my fingers against his cheek.

Just one touch.

Then another.

The line of his jaw tensed under my fingertips—smooth and perfect. I traced his cheek, the angle of his chin. Nicholas’s stillness aided my bravery. He might have been carved from marble or cast from steel, but he wasn’t hardened. Just solid and unyielding. I wished to mimic that confidence.

I melded into his kiss, panting as our lips parted for air. I sunk deeper against him. He didn’t question or protest but offered me exactly what I needed.

Nicholas didn’t thaw the parts of me I shielded from the world—he shattered everything I hid and denied.

Just one touch.

Just one kiss.

I meant it, even as a sudden flush spread over me. For months I lived in a cold shell, denying my femininity, hiding the life inside me. Now?

Kissing wasn’t enough.

It had to be.

How could I fight my own desire?

My pulse pounded hard in my ears, and I groaned against his lips.

“One hug,” I whispered. “A little closer?”

Nicholas nodded, unmoving, still kneeling before me. “One hug.”

I shifted from the couch, twisting my fingers within his. My body vibrated near him, pulsing with a raw energy. He let me pull myself into him. Our chests met, our bodies pushed together, and I rested my head against the solid strength of his shoulder.

His arms captured me.

Comforted.

His sharp scent pulled me from my nightmares and guided me into the gentle fantasy of skin against skin, warmth feeding warmth, and the fullness of what had once been perfection.

It was still perfection.

The twisting need ached within me. I swallowed, parting my lips before returning to his. My words wavered.