Our Thing: The Ballerina & The Butcher Boy Complete Duet by Nicci Harris

Author:Nicci Harris [Harris, Nicci]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781922492005
Publisher: Inki Publishing
Published: 2021-05-01T05:00:00+00:00

* * *

Max had a change of clothes in the trunk of the limo, so I wore his oversized shirt into the hospital.

They almost didn’t let him stay with me. When they saw my black eye and bruises, they immediately thought he'd done it. That I was a victim of domestic violence. The way he held my elbow and scowled at everyone like a dog being backed into a corner didn’t help. But he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

We told them I'd been in a car crash, but the finger marks on my thighs and breasts exposed that lie. Eventually I told them that I was attacked. Almost raped, but that I'd fought him off. They sutured my arm, took a blood test, and put a cannula into my hand to administer fluids. Apparently, I was severely dehydrated.

Now all the tests are done, and Max and I are finally alone in my hospital room. I've barely been able to look at him; it's an effort at the best of times, he's so tall. But tonight, he's hard. Stone.

We move into the bathroom and I keep my eyes downcast. Max turns the shower on hot. Steam fills the white clinical room. There is a rail for safety in the large shower bay. It's big enough to get a wheelchair in; I suppose that's the point. Max kneels in front of me to slide my knickers down and I grip his shoulders, stepping out of them. I feel smaller than normal. Like I've somehow shrunk.

After rising to his feet, he begins to underdress himself. Clothes drop to the ground, reminding me of our first intimate time. Floors always look better when Max Butcher's clothes are all over them. I look up at him. The sight of his powerful, muscular body brings me a new kind of comfort. I know how strong he is. How fiercely he'll protect me as long as I'm by his side. A place I don't plan on leaving.

His penis is erect, thick, straight, and solid, and knocking at his navel. I want him. Want him to take away the feeling of another man's fingers on me. Touch inside me. I'm his. All my parts. The ones that are tangible and all the invisible contradictory pieces that make up me.

They are all his.

We step into the shower together and I rest my cheek on his chest as he begins to wash my back and arms. Our naked bodies touch. That beautiful long ridge is squashed between my stomach and his hips. His fingers move around my body with gentle possessiveness, lathering me with soap and water. The hot water has brought a pink glow to my skin, especially around the mound of my breasts. Max probably can't see them; they are squished against him, but I'm sure he can feel my nipples. Hard. Aching. In any other situation. On any other day. He'd have taken me by now. But tonight his touch is like a feature. His hesitation makes me feel like a broken bird.

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