“We need to talk,” he said as he came into my apartment. His face was blank and I couldn't read it, but his flat tone frightened me.

“What's wrong?” I asked, following him over to the couch. I waited for him to sit down, but he didn't.

“I can't do this anymore.”

My heart stuttered and I felt my chest begin to tighten. A flutter of panic went through me. He couldn't mean what my brain thought he meant. It had to be something like he didn't want to continue keeping our relationship quiet at work. Or maybe he didn't want us to continue going back and forth between our homes. Or he couldn't keep worrying about me here. There were hundreds of possibilities. My mind, however, was insisting on only one.

“It's too much for me, Jenna,” he said. “You're ruined. I can't be with someone like that.”

The chill in his eyes made me shiver, but I was essentially numb. He was finally saying it, the words I'd known to be true. I'd told him all of this before, that I was broken and didn't deserve him. He hadn't cared then, but he cared now.

Still, I couldn't stop the protest. “But you said you loved me.” I hated myself for sounding weak, for sounding like one of those girls who couldn't survive without a man. I could, and had, done well without being in a relationship, but I didn't want to be without him.

He snorted a derisive laugh. “And you believed me? Come on, Jenna, you can't be that naïve, especially not with your background. How many of the men you fucked told you that they loved you? Hundreds? Do you even know how many there were? How many men did you fuck before me?”

I flinched at the question, crossing my arms over my chest as if I could protect my heart from his hurtful words. “Rylan.” His name came out in a pained whisper.

“I watched the videos, you know. Found all of them.” His blank expression twisted into one of disgust. “How could you do those things? More than one man at a time–”

“I didn't have a choice.” I was pleading now. “You have to believe me.” I stretched out my hand and he recoiled from it.

“Don't touch me!” he snapped. His voice was unrecognizable.

“Please.” I began to shake. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't be real.

“You're nothing but a slut. A cheap whore pretending to be this innocent little victim.”

The words were cutting, flaying me to the bone.

“I don't know why I let it get this far,” he continued. “I could have any woman I wanted. Why'd I choose you?” He sneered at me. “It doesn't matter now though. We're done. I can't even look at you. You make me sick.”

I went to my knees as he walked past me without another word. He didn't even spare me a second glance as he walked out of the apartment and out of my life.

I whimpered at the intensity of the pain going through me. I'd felt physical pain before, excruciating pain that I'd only wish back on the person who'd done it to me. I'd experienced emotional pain from the way my mother treated me. Nothing, however, could've prepared me for this. I'd known I'd been getting in too deep with Rylan. I'd told myself over and over again that it hadn't been a good idea to open myself up so much, but I hadn't listened. I'd wanted him too much, cared too much. I'd needed him.

And now he was gone.

The worst part was that I knew I didn't deserve him. He deserved someone better than me. Someone whole and undamaged.

The knowledge didn't do anything to stop the agony tearing through me, as if my insides were being shredded. I curled up into a tight ball and gave myself over to the pain.

He was gone.

He'd never loved me.

He was gone.

“Jenna!”

His voice cut through the darkness, bringing with it a sliver of light.

“Jenna, love, wake up.”

There it was again. The gentle, coaxing tone, so full of love and concern, pulled me out of the nightmare. I felt his arms around me, smelled the scent of him.

“You're here,” I murmured, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling myself even closer to him. “You stayed.”

His lips brushed against my forehead and I felt the relief in his embrace. “Of course I'm here, love. I told you I was staying to take care of you.”

The memories came back then. The grand jury. The previous week's nightmares. Rylan carrying me up the stairs.

I opened my eyes. The dim light in the room told me that the sun had already gone down, but it was January, so that didn't necessarily mean a time. My eyes flicked over to the bedside clock. Six-thirty. I'd been asleep longer than I'd realized.

Rylan smoothed back some hair from my face and I turned my attention back to him. “You said my name.”

“What?” My brain was still half-asleep.

“When you were dreaming, you said my name, but it didn't sound like you were dreaming anything good.” He looked upset. “Was I in your nightmare?”

I couldn't lie to him, but I couldn't tell him the truth either. It would hurt him too much to know that, deep down, I was terrified that he'd reject me because of my past. He'd feel like he had to prove himself, that he'd given me some sort of reason to not trust him. It wasn't him though. It was me.

“You know that isn't real, right?” His expression was anxious. “No matter what you dreamed, I'd never hurt you.”

“I don't want to talk about it,” I said softly. And it wasn't only because of him. I didn't want to talk about my nightmare because of me. I didn't want to think about it. I wanted to push it to the back of my mind and never bring it up again.

“Okay,” he said. I still saw the concern there, but he put it aside. “Is there anything I can do?”

I didn't even hesitate. I might not have wanted to talk or think about my nightmare, but it still lingered. Teasing, tormenting. I needed something stronger than my fear to chase it away.

I needed him.

“Make me forget.” I curled my fingers in his hair. “Love me until I forget everything else.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

I understood his hesitation. He believed my nightmare had something to do with my abuse or perhaps Christophe's attack. After something like that, I probably would've just wanted him to hold me, but this was different. I needed to feel him against me, inside me, reminders that what had happened was just a nightmare. He was still here.

“Please,” I asked softly. “Make me forget.”

He kept me waiting just a couple seconds longer and then leaned his head down to take my mouth. It was a gentle kiss, his lips soft against mine. His tongue teased at the seam of my lips and I parted them. He was thorough, but there was no edge to the pressure of his mouth.

As we kissed, he slowly lowered me onto my bed until I was stretched out, the blankets kicked off to one side. I didn't remember dressing for bed, but I was wearing a t-shirt over my panties so I must have. Unless Rylan had done it for me.

He stretched out next to me, resting on his side so he could run his hand over me, the heat of his palm burning through the cotton of my t-shirt. He cupped my breast, running his thumb over my nipple until it hardened, visible beneath the shirt. His mouth left mine, working its way down my jaw to kiss that spot just below my ear.

I shivered as a little tendril of pleasure went through me.

He sat up and reached for the hem of my shirt. I let him remove it, leaving me naked except for a pair of simple cotton panties.

“You're beautiful,” he said softly as he leaned down and pressed his lips against the burn scar that ran down the left side of my stomach. The skin there was warped, almost as if the hot grease my mother had poured on me had somehow melted the flesh into something liquid before it solidified again. “Every inch of you.” He covered the scar with kisses even as his free hand rested on the other side of my stomach, thumb tracing patterns on the unmarked skin.

Most men either ignored the scars or were too interested in them. Rylan was the only one who treated them like they were just another part of me.

His tongue flicked out, tracing the pattern of the ruined skin even though I couldn't really feel it. The nerves had been too badly damaged to function properly. Then his tongue left the scar and I sucked in a breath as he moved across my stomach and down to tease my belly button. My eyelids fluttered and I felt them wanting to close. I kept them open, not because I was afraid to close them, but because I wanted to watch him. He'd said that I was beautiful, but the reality was, he was the beautiful one. In every way. Physically, intellectually. Who he was, what he did.

Love swelled up inside of me and pleasure followed as he wrapped his lips around my nipple. I cried out, my back arching, trying to push myself deeper into his mouth. His hand went to my other breast, fingers rolling my nipple until it was stiff. The suction of his mouth was a steady pull rather than the sharp, rough tug I usually received. Normally, tenderness didn't do it for me. I always needed a bit of pain edging my pleasure to get turned on. Or at least I had. There was a new kind of heat spreading through my belly, something quieter, but just as intense.

He raised his head, the cool air hitting my wet skin and making me shiver again. “Stop thinking. Let yourself feel. Let me take care of you.”

There was an undercurrent of authority to his words, though his voice was soft. I nodded and tried to do as he'd said.

He shifted until he was straddling my waist and then slowly made his way down my body, taking my panties with him. His fingers skimmed down my legs, leaving a fiery trail that didn't dissipate, but rather grew. He parted my legs and settled between them, hooking my knees over his shoulders.

He planted light kisses across my inner thighs, making the sensitive skin tingle. I wanted to urge him forward, beg him to do it now, but I'd agreed to let him take care of me, and I trusted that he'd give me what I needed.

When his lips pressed against my pussy, I whimpered. The touch was so gentle, almost a caress. Then his tongue was slowly parting my folds, dipping inside, then tracing along each side. The pressure inside me was building, but oh so slowly. I felt like a fire being relentlessly stoked until I exploded. At the rate he was going, spontaneous combustion seemed like a very real possibility.

His tongue found my clit and began to move back and forth over it, a rapid movement that sent stronger waves of pleasure through me. When he took the little bundle of nerves into his mouth, I came, the wet heat too much. I closed my eyes and let the pleasure take me. His mouth kept working, wringing the last exquisite drop out of me. Only when I'd finally started to come down did he sit up. He pulled his shirt over his head, then quickly shed his pants and underwear as well.

A moment later, he was moving up my body, kissing a line up from my bellybutton to the valley between my breasts. When he claimed my mouth again, his body pressed against mine. My nipples were hard against his chest, his cock pushing against my entrance. The tip of it slid inside as he rocked his hips and I moaned into his mouth.

I hooked my legs around his waist, putting my heels against the backs of his knees. He cupped the back of my neck, tilting my head back as he broke the kiss. His lips moved down my throat even as he eased himself deeper. I waited for him to slide all the way inside, but he didn't. His thrusts were shallow, the lower half of his cock rubbing against my clit.

I whimpered as he sucked skin into his mouth, pulling at it until I knew he was leaving a mark. I ran my hands down his back, fingers tracing over the tattoo I knew but couldn't see. His muscles were tense beneath the hot skin and I knew he was holding back for me.

“Please,” I whispered.

He pulled back until he was almost completely out, then surged forward, filling me with a deep thrust that made me cry out. He slid his arms under my knees, raising my legs and changing the angle of penetration so that he was hitting me in new places. When he pulled them up even further, putting my ankles on his shoulders, my body began to shake. He leaned forward slightly, wrapping his arms around my legs and began to thrust with deep, steady strokes.

My fingers clawed at my sheets, unable to dig into his skin. I'd never let anyone take me from this position – too vulnerable – and the sensations were completely new. I felt every inch of him inside me, pressing against all the right places even as my own body put pressure on my clit. It felt amazing. And even more than the physical pleasure, the look on Rylan's face made my body heat up. His eyes were dark, his expression determined. That sexy hyper-focus was directed at me and I knew he wasn't going to rest until he'd reached his goal.

I lost all sense of time and place, only aware of the way his body moved inside of mine, how his skin felt against mine. The rhythmic in and out. His arm around my legs. The only sound was of our mingled breathing, our flesh coming together.

The motion kept me slowly building towards a climax, each stroke sending another wave of pleasure through me, but never enough to push me over the edge. The tension inside Rylan was growing too, I could see it, feel it, and I knew he'd be ready soon. When he released my legs, I knew it was time.

He leaned down, propping himself up on his elbows as his pace increased. He wrapped his lips around my nipple, each pull of his mouth in time with his thrusts. Every cell was on fire and then he bit down, not hard enough to truly hurt, but to give me that last little bit that I needed.

I opened my mouth to scream as I exploded, but no sound came out. My back arched, muscles tensing. I was dimly aware of Rylan swearing and calling my name, of his cock pulsing inside me, but all of that was secondary to the overwhelming pleasure carrying me away. My vision grayed, and just before the darkness took me, I heard Rylan whisper in my ear, as if he knew what my nightmare had been about.

“I love you, and I'll never leave you.”