“Open up to me. Tell me how you feel. Give me the words,” he insists.

“I don’t know,” I release on a staggered voice.

“You do. You’re just scared.”

“Let me be scared then,” I request, but he turns it down, saying, “I won’t ever let you be scared, baby.”

He reaches back and pulls off his shirt before sitting on his haunches and telling me, “Undo my pants.”

Sitting up, I slip the leather strap of his belt out of the buckle, and unzip his slacks. He watches me as I reach my hand inside of his boxers and take his stiff cock in my hand, curving my fingers around the thick shaft. Without taking our eyes away from each other, I begin to stroke along the velvet smooth skin sheathing his rock hard erection. When his breathing begins to falter, he grabs ahold of the end of his belt and pulls it free from his pants.

“Take your hands off me and put them above your head.”

I lie down on my back and place my hands where I was told. He pulls my top off and unclasps my bra, tossing it to the floor before lacing his belt through the slats in the headboard, tying my wrists together, and securing them in an unrelenting bind.

“Tell me how you feel right now.”

As we look deeply into each other, I reveal softly, “Safe,” and there’s a part of me that doesn’t believe that word is a lie.

“Say it again.”

“Safe.”

Leaning down, he brushes his soft lips along my bruises. “Always.” He then begins running his warm lips down between my breasts, taking them both in his hands when he peers up to me. “Always safe with me.”

THE SHOCK OF cold touching my skin jolts me awake.

“It’s just me, darling,” Declan soothes as he presses an ice pack to my cheek. “I didn’t want to wake you, but your bruises look to be swelling.”

I stare up at him as he takes care of me and just watch as he examines my face.

“You okay?”

“Sleepy,” I mumble as I move to sit up.

Declan releases a soft growl when the sheet drops to my waist, exposing my naked breasts.

“You’re obscene,” I tease with a grin and then pull the sheet up to cover me, but he yanks it away.

“Don’t cover yourself; you’re too beautiful.”

“What about you? You expect me to be naked while you’re fully clothed?” I argue weakly with a smile.

Dropping the ice pack onto the pillow, he stands beside the bed and looks down at me, saying, “You want me naked?” and when I nod, biting my lip, he tells me, “Then undress me.”

“Now, not only are you obscene, but obnoxious.”

“You love it,” he states with a devious smirk.

“Mmm . . . maybe.”

“Say it. Tell me you love it,” he urges.

“No,” I squeak out in laughter, and with a stern tone, he retorts, “Don’t ever tell me no.”

“No,” I repeat with a flirty wink.

He crawls back into bed and over the top of me with a sexy growl. “Bad girl.”

“I thought I was a good girl?”

“Only when you listen well,” he responds as he lies next to me. “Come closer. Wrap yourself on me.”

And I do, rolling over, draping my arm across his chest and wrapping my leg around him as he bands his arms around me.

“You feel so good like this,” he releases on a heavy sigh.

“Like what?”

“Covering me like you want me.”

“You think I want you?”

“I can’t seem to figure out what you want,” he exhales. “I hate that you won’t let me inside your head.”

I don’t respond to his statement as we continue to hold each other, and after a while, he breaks the silence, saying, “Why do you hide yourself from me?”

“Does it look like I’m hiding from you?” I tease with a grin as I lie here naked.

With a straight face, he lays his hand over my heart and says, “You’re hiding this from me.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I can see glimpses of it at times. Of whatever pain is inside. Do you ever let yourself feel that? The pain?”

“Why would anyone want to feel pain?” I whisper. “Showing that exposes vulnerability, and vulnerability is your soul’s weakness.”

“People are weak, Nina. It’s just fact.”

“I don’t want to be weak.”

“You’re only human,” he says. “You bleed like everyone else, but you hide it.”

“And what about you? You like to control nearly every facet of your life. You wouldn’t do that if you weren’t attempting to bury something.”

“You’re right,” he willingly admits. “I need control to deal with pain, but trust me when I tell you this, I feel that pain. I can temper it, but it’s always there.” And then he hits my one tender spot when he asks, “You miss your parents?” and everything inside of me runs towards my dad.

“Yeah,” I whisper on a pained breath as I feel my father’s presence ache inside of my chest. And when the tears prick and my nose tingles, I close my eyes.

Declan sees right through me though. “Open your eyes.”

But I don’t.

I keep them closed, saying with honesty, “You want me to show you my pain, but I don’t know how to do that,” and when I open my eyes, the tears spill out.

“You’re doing it right now.”

Pointing at my dampened cheeks, I state, “This is weakness.”

With his hands cradling my head, he contradicts my words, saying, “This . . . this is strength,” before licking the salt of my pain.

I hold on to his wrists as he rests his head against mine in this soft moment. I feel like I use Declan so much for this, for this comfort I’ve never really had before. He gives it in a way that’s different from Pike, and it feels good. Peaceful. I know my time is limited with Declan, so I might as well take what I can while I have him.

And in an unusual reaction for me, I reach down to the hem of his shirt and lift it up, peeling it away and dropping it to the floor. He takes my face in his large hands again and holds me still as he looks down at me, and I swear he can see inside of me.

I begin to unbutton his pants, and when he’s finally naked with me, he drops his head to my chest, grazing the stubble of his jaw lightly over my nipple. The friction is replaced with the smooth softness of his tongue. I feel it between my legs when he sucks the pert bud into his mouth as he continues to caress me with his tongue.

His touches are soft, not like his usual display of dominance over me, and in this moment, I need the softness. So as I nestle my fingers into his thick hair, I move his head to look up at me and breathe, “Don’t tie me up. Not this time.”

He’s never not restrained me or been forceful in his touch, so when he gives me a nod, I’m a bit surprised. This is the first time he’s allowed me to touch him during sex, and in this moment of uncharacteristic fragility, I let my hands wander along the deep cut lines of his muscular body as it hovers over mine. We move at a relaxed pace, his hand skimming over every curve of my body.

When he positions himself between my legs, he holds his cock in his hand and runs the head of it up through my folds to my clit and slowly back down, saying, “I’m gonna make your heart beat,” as he pushes himself inside of me, filling me entirely as my eyes fall shut.

He fucks me with slow, deepening strokes. There’s no friction, no tension. It’s just the two of us moving in this tender rhythm.

“Open your eyes. Connect with me.”

I do, and he never takes his focus away from me. He’s never felt so real as he does right now, in this very moment. The collusion on my part festers guilt inside of me, but it shouldn’t. I shouldn’t be this live wire that I am right now, gripping on to the broad knots of muscle that run along his arms. I shouldn’t be feeling the pleasure that he’s slowly building to fruition inside of me. I shouldn’t be allowing him to do this to me, allowing me to do this to myself. It’s too ripe, too much life.