“I WANT TO BE yours,” she whispered, staring up at me with her golden brown eyes. “More than anything.”
The tightening in my chest was not one I had ever experienced. This was not the way my body reacted a year ago when I laid eyes on the beautiful, pure smile of an innocent girl. This was not the breath filling my lungs when I saw her alive and coming off the ship. This was not the desire to take her when our lips met. This was all of those things and more.
I stroked her bottom lip with my thumb, but I did not kiss her. If I started, I would not stop, and I wanted to get her out of this apartment as much as she wanted to be out of it.
“Let’s get you some clothes, then I will take you home.” We could deal with the rest of her belongings another time.
“To the compound?”
I had grown to hate that word. “To my land.”
“Do you have a home?” Heat colored her cheeks. “I mean, like a roof overhead? You don’t live in a tent or anything, do you?”
The corner of my mouth tipped up. “No, I do not live in a tent.” My quarters were not much better, but I was building a proper house. My incentive to finish was now greater than ever.
Inhaling, she nodded as if she were making a grave decision. “Okay. Clothes.” She looked around one more time, then frowned. “No one is here.”
“I told your sister and Theodore to go home. I said I would contact them when you were safe.”
“Oh.” She looked up at me. “Did you? Contact them?”
“I texted your sister from the plane.” After we had eaten, she had fallen asleep against my shoulder.
She bit her lip. “I should call my mom, but I don’t have a phone anymore.”
“You can use my phone whenever you want, but it is late. I said you would be in touch tomorrow.” I pushed her hair behind her shoulder so I could see her face. The bruising was beginning to yellow. “Pack some clothes.” I thought of her feet and the unsubstantial sandals she wore her sister had packed for her. “My land is not paved. You will need shoes. Boots would be better.”
She glanced at my footwear, then slowly nodded and turned toward her bedroom.
A few minutes later, when I heard no movement from the back room, I followed.
I found her standing in front her closet, staring.
Stepping up behind her, I kissed the top of her head. “What is the matter?”
“What clothes do you take to go somewhere you’ve never been?”
I knew she was not talking about my land. I brushed a hand over her shoulder and down her arm. Chill bumps raced across her neck. Taking her hand in mine, I brought her back to my chest. “We will go slow,” I reassured.
“Okay.” She did not move.
I squeezed her hand. “What else?”
“I hate these clothes,” she whispered.
“We will get you new ones.” I did not tell her that I hated the black dress she had been taken in. The tight material had shown every curve, exposing her body to anyone who wanted to look. I also did not tell her that I remembered every inch of her tanned legs in the denim shorts she had been wearing at the gas station. Her hair had hung loose that day, covering her bronzed, proud shoulders, and her sleeveless blouse had been like nothing I had ever seen. Bright, patterned, it had been fitted around her breasts but then like a full skirt around her midsection. Every time the breeze blew, the shirt moved around her body. I had been transfixed.
I had never seen women dress in anything other than shift dresses meant to both cover and be easily pulled up to accommodate a man’s needs whenever he chose. There was no secret in the movement of the clothes on a woman’s body in the compound. Nothing was meant to tantalize, the women did not even wear undergarments, yet everything was carefully regulated by River to be accessible to him.
Seeing the brassieres carefully folded over hangers in my angel’s closet, I realized I had never considered what may or may not be comfortable for a woman to wear.
I stroked her arm. “For now, what are you most comfortable in?”
“Sweats.”
An unpleasant image struck. “I do not know what that is.”
She looked up at me. “You’ve never worn sweatpants? Or a sweatshirt? Like a hoodie?”
I shook my head once. “No.”
She pointed at a zip-up sweater with a hood hanging on a hook at the end of the closet. “That’s a hoodie. What do you wear when it gets cold out?”
It was rarely cold in southern Florida. Heat was usually the problem. “I wear fatigues.” I had always worn them. As a hunter, I had been one of the few men on compound allowed to wear something other than the shapeless clothes made by the women. I needed my clothing to be sturdy, practical and give me full range of motion. The long shifts River and the elders had worn would not have served that purpose.
She gave a slight shake of her head. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”
I reached around her and pulled some blouses off hangers that were similar to what she had been wearing the first day I met her. “What conversation would you prefer to have?” I saw the exact shirt she had been wearing and took it off the hanger.
“This conversation is fine. It’s just that I can’t believe I’m here… with you.” She looked at the clothes in my hand. “Hey, that’s the shirt I was wearing that day at the gas station.”
“I know.” I kissed her temple. “I like it.”
She leaned back into me. “I like your voice.”
“Ditto.” Soft, feminine, but not high-pitched, I wanted to hear her voice when she was under me.
She grabbed the hooded sweater off the hook and her voice turned quiet. “So, did you pick out clothes for Decima?”
I momentarily stilled, then I spun her around and tipped her chin. “Do not do that. There is nothing to be insecure about.”
Heat touched her cheeks. “I’m not, I wasn’t, I mean, I’m just….” She trailed off, looking away. “Never mind.”
“I will not never mind. Look at me.” I waited until she brought her gaze back to mine. “I am many things, but I am not a comparative man. You will learn my faults as you get to know me, but you will never question my honesty.” I paused, studying her. “We are from different worlds. I do not know all of the nuances of your dialect, and I prefer a straightforward manner of speech, so understand this. I did not ever choose clothes for a woman. I was not a fan of what the women wore on the compound simply because of what it represented. I did not like you in the black dress. I liked the clothes you wore the day we first met.” I held up the shirts in my hand. “I like these. But that does not mean I will ever tell you what you can or cannot wear. I will never strip you of your choice to choose to be who you are.”
Her mouth opened, then closed. She nodded once before she spoke quietly. “I’m sorry.”
“There is no reason to apologize. I would rather you tell me when you have feelings of insecurity, jealousy or doubt. Then I can address them. I do not intend to ever make you feel insignificant.”
“Me either,” she whispered.
“Good.” I touched my lips to her forehead. “You will need some pants and shoes.”
She smiled as she blushed. “Did you want to pick those out as well?”
Despite her attempt at a joke, I was man enough to know when to quit. “No.”
A small laugh escaped. It was the first laugh since I’d taken her from her abductor, and it was a sound sent from heaven. I stroked her bottom lip with my thumb. “I like to hear you laugh.”
She smiled, but there was still sorrow in her eyes. “I’ll try to do it more.”
“Force nothing with me.” It was not a request. I would not tend to another female who was not with me by choice.
Her expression sobered. “Okay.”
I nodded once. “Thank you.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “I should be the one thanking you. Except words will never be enough for what you did for me, what you risked.”
I fought a quick-tempered response that would tell her not to thank me again and gave her my only other truth on the matter. “I would do it a thousand times over.”
She leaned into my chest. “I think I’m beginning to understand that.”
I gently stroked her bruised back, praying my touch did not hurt her. “Good.”
Without leaning away, she looked up at me and smiled. “You say that a lot.”
“I mean that a lot around you.” No truer words had ever passed my lips.