Redd

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What the hell is wrong with me?

I can't do shit like that. . . It's wrong.

With heavy feet, I scuffed my heels over the laminate floor in the kitchen, raking my fingers through my hair. Pushing my hip against the counter, I gripped the edge in my hands, knuckles burning white as I squeezed the solid surface and closed my eyes.

Bijou had just gotten my blood plumping in more ways than I wanted to admit. Her loose shirt, thin and almost sheer, had transformed from rag into erotic fabric I wanted to tear clear off her small frame.

If she hadn't stepped back, I wasn't sure what I would have done.

Yes you do. You know exactly what would have happened.

My gut curled up on itself, cock still throbbing, aching and hard. It was horrible the thoughts that had gone through my head as I stroked her arm.

A tingle raced across my lips, my tongue pushed against the back of my teeth; I wanted to fucking kiss her. I wanted to taste her, I wanted to touch her, I wanted to feel every curve her body had to offer.

I could see myself grabbing her by the shoulders, bending her over my bed, and lifting up the back of her shirt to take what I wanted. My fingers itched to bunch her strawberry blond hair in my hands, and yank her head back to watch her moan as I plowed deep into her entrance.

The image was clear, my hard cock teasing her opening, stretching out her walls and forcing her body to crumble beneath my hands. I shouldn't have had those thoughts, they shouldn't have even cross my mind.

But I couldn't help it, it was embedded in my bones to want what isn't mine. It was a drive in my subconscious I had developed over the years to crave the wrongs and defy the laws of reason.

Knowing I couldn't or shouldn't do something, it made me only want it more.

I shouldn't have her, but I did.

I shouldn't want her, but I did.

I couldn't take her, but I wanted to so fucking badly.

Not her. She's not yours, and she's off limits.

I'd fuck her brain up even more if I crossed that line.

Jerking my shoulders, I shook my head. I had to get those thoughts out of my mind. She had been through hell, the last thing that was probably on her mind was fucking a man—especially right now.

A faint ache pinched my heart, doing its best to remind me that I was still human, that I knew right from wrong, and taking her, making her mine over and over again, it was not for my survival.

But I couldn't ignore the flame that ignited when her nipples went hard and goosebumps riddled her skin as she peered up at me with those big brown eyes. Her innocence was dimmed, replaced by a siren, quietly calling my name.

Stop it! Just fucking stop!

Throwing my hands to my forehead, I pushed on my temples in an attempt to get my control back. Because I was losing it, I was watching it dissolve into a pile of mush as this woman infiltrated my brain like a disease.

She was so beautiful behind the marks on her body. I had taken note of her bruises and the thick scars on her upper thighs. I had seen how two of the knuckles on her left hand were swelled, and the fingers were bent so she couldn't hold them straight.

But none of that stopped her from being beautiful.

Does she see that? Can she even see what she's doing to me?

Her tender skin could still blush, her eyes had lived a million years, but the youthfulness wasn't gone. Who she was, it was still buried behind the pain I could see written all over her face. The urge to drag it out of her, to force her demons into submission so she could see that she was more woman than anyone I had ever met, it latched onto my heart and squeezed.

Bijou was strong, with a hard shell and a spitfire of a soul. She was alive, she hadn't given up even though her life was stomped through the mud.

She wouldn't be here with me if she really wanted to die. I knew that, it didn't matter that she had begged me to kill her earlier. Not one word was said with truth. Her pleas left her mouth on desperation and sadness.

Closing my eyes, I could see the determined expression on her face when she pulled that trigger to stop Val. Bijou had been strong when I was weak.

And that hit me, it made my lungs squeeze out every ounce of air until I wasn't breathing. My skin warmed, my nerves exploded, my body came alive, shedding its hardened shell.

Bijou was fucking sexy as hell holding that gun.

My cock jumped at the image, thickening for all the wrong reasons. I shouldn't have felt this excited over something so dark. I shouldn't get turned on from her wielding a weapon and lashing out like a wild animal.

Growling, I squeezed the counter like I was trying to break a piece off. She deserved a good life, the life she should have had if that man had never stepped in and changed her path.

I couldn't give her anything different. I knew that. Not with my past. She'd have questions, and she'd deserve honest answers. I wouldn't be able to lie to her.

Turning on the water, I splashed my face. Keeping my head in the sink, I felt the droplets run down the bridge of my nose and watched them splash against the steel.

Get it together! Get your fucking head straight, you can't be thinking like this.

You'll only hurt her.

She'd never want a monster like me. . .

Tearing a few paper towels off the roll, I dried my skin and let out a heavy breath. “Fuck.”

“What was that?” she asked, stepping around the corner.

“What?”

“I thought I heard you say something?”

Shaking my head, I balled up the paper towels and tossed them into trash. “Nothing, I was just talking to myself.”

“You do that too?” Rubbing her arms over each other, she crossed her leg and pressed her toes into the floor as she giggled.

Her laugh was sweet and light, not awkward and forced. A gentle smile lifted the corner of her lip as her long lashes splashed her cheeks with a single blink.

The sweater was big around her body, belling out at the bottom as it hung off her waist. The pants actually fit her pretty good, clinging tightly to her legs and painting them in liquid black.

“Yeah, it happens. I don't usually talk to myself with other people around, but shit hasn't exactly been normal.” Glancing at the clock on the stove, I counted the time in my head. “We've got about an hour before we need to go grab Vicki.”

“Well, the house is all clean now, so that's good.” Looking around, she began to tease the ends of her hair. “You can't even tell I lit a grenade in here earlier.” Forcing another smile, her shoulder slumped against the doorway. “That won't happen again.” Holding out her hand, she patted the air. “I'm really sorry I did that.”

What the hell?

Taking a step forward, I reached for her fingers. “Here, let me see.”

Her eyes opened wide, hand jerking away as she stuffed it behind her back. “See what? There's nothing to see.”

“Let me see your hand.”

“Why?”

“Can I just see?”

“I told you there's nothing to see.” Tucking her hands into her armpits, she crossed her arms tight over her chest.

Cocking my head, I gave her a stern look. “Hand, now.” My voice came out in the same tone as if I was giving my sister orders to clean up her room. I didn't mean to sound so parental, but after six years of playing the role, it came natural.

Sighing, her eyes pinched, nose crinkling up as she turned her head to the side and released her arms from her ribs. “Here, happy now?” holding out her right hand, she flipped it over and back again.

“Not that one, the other one.”

“What's your deal?” she asked, snapping her hands to her hips. “You don't see me asking you about your tattoos or the scar on your neck.”

Tugging up the collar on my shirt, I threw my arm out and snatched her hand from her waist. “What happened? Why is your palm like this?”

Yanking her hand free, her mouth turned paper thin. “I don't have to tell you a fucking a thing. It's none of your business.”

I had struck a nerve. But I ignored her defensive stance and pressed her. The scars I could see were bad enough, they made my insides boil. There was no doubt that she had been beaten. The long lines reminded me of belt marks, but hers went far deeper than anything I had endured.

But her hand was a different story, with thick white skin, curling and crawling like fossilized worms under the surface. . .

I'm going to kill that motherfucker.

“Tell me who did that, was it one of those men? Tell me it was the guy who came up on us first.” Softening my eyes, I pleaded silently with myself, hoping that the person responsible was already dead.

“It wasn't him or the other guy, it was—one man. Diablo, the only man that had authority to disfigure me if he pleased. And he pleased, over and over.” Her eyes glossed over, holding in tears she didn't want to let out. “Can we not do this? I don't want to think about it.” Raising her fingers, she nervously played with her lips. “It was my fault most of the time anyway, I would screw up. I deserved—”

Don't you dare—

Cutting her off, I refused to let her foolishly put blame on herself. “You deserved none of that.” Taking a step in, I held my hand up, slicing the air. “None of it was your fault, there's nothing you could have ever done that would deserve treatment like that.” I wasn't going to let her try and make excuses for what was done to her, there was no way I was going to let her think that she earned the scars she had been given. “I'd save you over and over again, it wouldn't matter how many times he tried to take you back. I won't let you go, I won't let him touch you ever again.”

“Redd, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but you have to understand, I'm not worth the risk you're taking. I'm sorry for putting you in this—”

Swooping in, I cupped her face, tracing her jaw with my thumbs. Her skin was soft and delicate like porcelain. Her cheeks flushed, turning the prettiest shade of crimson. Trailing the pad of my thumb over her bottom lip, she let out a light exhale, tipping her head into my palm ever so slightly.

Letting my eyes settle on hers, I did exactly what I had been talking myself out of.

I kissed her.

Smashing my lips onto hers, I stole her taste, I stole her breath and her pulse as I kissed her like a woman should be kissed.

She didn't want to think about her past, so I gave her something to think about. I gave her a new memory to look back on, a new moment that wasn't built off pain.

Her body stiffened like a board in my hands, and I expected her to shove me off and jump back. She didn't.

So I kissed her harder, slipping my tongue into her mouth and licking with gentle flips and soft twirls. She tasted sweet, with a hint of innocence and a spice of temptation.

Her nipples hardened, grazing my chest as I pulled her closer. Parting her lips wider, she opened and accepted whatever was happening between us.

Digging my fingers into her hair, I tugged at the roots, tipping her head back so my tongue could go deeper.

The muscle in my pants throbbed, pulsing hard and fast as my heart sped up and the blood began to surge through my veins, feeding my body.

Bijou moaned into my mouth, her muscles relaxing, chest falling forward as her hands drifted up to my shoulders. She kissed me back. Her tongue danced around mine, lips suckling and plumping with desire.

Slow down, don't push her before she's ready.

Fuck it, take her. You want her, so take her.

My brain fought with itself, battling the good and evil as I tempered my own heat. I knew what I wanted, and I knew what the right thing to do was.

It wasn't doing this now, it wasn't taking advantage of her if she felt weak or had reverted into some state of protection. Her body came alive, but that didn't mean her head was in the same place.

Pulling my lips from hers, I flicked my eyes around her face, trying to read what was running through her head. Was she upset I had kissed her? Was she angry that I over stepped some invisible boundary she had set up around herself?

In the end, it didn't really matter. Even if she was willing to give herself to me right then, tomorrow she might regret her moment of forbidden pleasure.

There was enough going on that she had to deal with, regret didn't need to be another emotion for her to have to wrangle.

“Bijou, there is nothing I want more than for you to know that you're worthy of this world. It's not always going to be full of pain, it's not always going to be full of hurt.” Brushing my fingers across her forehead, I pushed the loose hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “You're alive, you're here. . .” Pausing, I brought her face to my lips and kissed her forehead. “Give me permission to do this, let me show you what you're worth.”

I kissed her to show her she was alive.

I kissed her to show her she was still beautiful.

And that kiss. . . It sealed what I had felt in my chest from the second I laid eyes on her.

This woman was worth everything I was about to do.