I never had a father. But hearing Bella say those words makes me feel as though perhaps I did. Perhaps I did see him that way, and I just never knew it until now.
And now, there is a foreign sensation inside of me when I look at my Bella. So soft and sweet and broken. Caring for me after all that I have done to her.
She is inherently good.She sees past my ugliness. My feelings for her are split.
I want to hurt her. But I want to protect her too. And I think that perhaps she was right. I think the person she most needs protection from is me.
"What are you thinking about, Javi?" she asks.
I don't like that she can see me so well. That even beneath the hood I have replaced, she can read me. It's strange, not being able to hide anymore.
It makes me feel exposed. I want to forget that she has seen all of me. That she has witnessed my scars. I wonder if they haunt her. If she cringes when she thinks of them. But I cannot tell her these things.
“I’m thinking about what your father would say,” I reply. “If he knew you were here.”
She is quiet. Lost in her own thoughts as she studies me.
"Sometimes, I don't know what my father would say," she admits. "I love him very much. But I feel like I don't know him very well. He had so many secrets. And I have wondered..."
She threads her fingers together in her lap and looks into my eyes again.
"Wondered what?" I press.
"I have wondered what he did to you, Javi."
I do not answer her.
Bella rises from her chair and moves towards me.
My pulse quickens.
She approaches me the way one would approach a wild animal. My fists are locked at my side, my muscles tense. Her arm trembles and her lip does too. She raises my hood and pushes it back away from my face.
My body is still sore. Still healing. And it looks worse than usual.
I don't like this. I don't like her seeing me like this. I move to grab her wrist. But she is fast this time. And determined.
"No, Javi," she says. "I want to see you. Let me see you."
My body goes on the offensive. Every muscle tightening and contracting. Every instinct inside of me demanding that I eliminate the threat. But one look into Bella’s eyes gives me the control I need to restrain myself.
My hand falls back to my side. And I let her see me. I cannot deny this angel.
She moves between my legs. Hesitates. Now it feels as though she is the predator. She sits on my lap, and her palm comes up to touch my face.
I close my eyes when she maps out the scars with her fingertip. I don't like it. But I don't want her to stop either.
"Bella."
My voice is hoarse. Strained. I don't know what I need from her. But my Bella knows. She leans in and kisses me. She kisses my scars, healing me in some way. As though they could disappear beneath her gentle touch.
I know that they can't. But it feels like they are. Like she is the cure to my disease. Her lips find mine. I can't be gentle with her anymore. I catch her face in my hands and kiss her violently. She whimpers but does not protest.
I am hard for her. So fucking hard. I grind my hips into her soft flesh and want so badly to feel her from the inside. I want to destroy her and fill her with my come.
I want her to cry so I can taste her tears. I want her to make me bleed. I don't know how to make it stop. I can’t cure this madness in my head.
I’m not supposed to want her this way. I’m not supposed to feel anything when I look at her.