“See what?”
“That this—” she gestures between us, her voice splintering “—is the only thing I don’t fail at.”
The words hit me square in the chest. “You're not a failure. Why would you even think that?”
She laughs, but it’s humorless and hollow. “The only reason I get anywhere is because of the men in my life. Without you, without my father… who would I be?”
“Well, you'd be the same amazing person you are now. The girl I'm in love with.”
“Exactly,” she says, as if I've proven her point. “The girlyou'rein love with. That's my identity. I have no personality. Nothing. The minute you decide to leave me, I’m back to being nothing. To feeling nothing.”
I sit up and cup her face, forcing her to see me. To hear me.
“You’re not nothing,” I say, my eyes locked on hers. “You’re the smartest, bravest, most stubborn girl I’ve ever met. You walk into every room like you belong there, even when the world tries to slam the door on you. You don’t care. You face things most people couldn’t.”
I press my mouth to hers, just once. “I love you. Every little piece of you.”
She blinks. Once. Twice.
Then she breaks, and tears start spilling before she even realizes she’s crying, and I don’t try to stop them.
Instead, I pull her in, wrap her up, and hold her like she’s mine, because she is. Even when she forgets it, she’ll always be my priority.
“Will you just help me feel?” she whispers. “Please?”
Fuck, that breaks me. Not because she’s asking for sex, but because this isn’t her. She’s broken and I’ll do anything to prove I can put her back together.
“Lie back,” I say softly, guiding her down. “Let me take care of you.”
I kiss her slowly, pouring everything I can’t say into it. Then I trail my lips down her neck to her collarbone, and she arches under me, her breath hitching.
Her fingers drag through my hair, tugging just enough to make me groan.
Palming her breast, I drag my thumb across the tight peak before I suck it into my mouth. She gasps, her hips lifting off the bed and her thighs clench around my hips.
I take my time, needing to watch her every reaction and make sure she’s still with me. Dragging my hand down her stomach, I hook my fingers in her panties. She lifts her hips, wordless, letting me slide them off.
When my hand comes back to her center and I move to settle between her thighs, she tugs at my hair, stopping me.
“No,” she says, her eyes locked on mine. “I want to… I want to be in control.”
I don’t ask why. I already know. This isn’t about sex. Not really. It’s about something bigger. It’s about choice… power… and her taking something back for herself.
So I nod, lie back and let her climb on top of me.
With dark, heated eyes, she straddles my chest and crawls forward until her knees frame my head.
I groan, shameless because her pussy is just inches from my mouth and I’d let her destroy me if it meant she’d feel whole again.
Her hands grip the back of the headboard as she lowers herself onto my mouth, slow and deliberate.
I open for her without hesitation.
The second my tongue drags up her center, her breath catches. She flinches back instinctively, but I don’t let her get far.
I grip her thighs and anchor her to my face, holding her here until she takes what she came for.
She moves tentatively at first, grinding against my mouth, and I give her everything. Every flick, every lick, every pull of my lips around her clit is my way of telling her what I believe.