I obliged and snuggled under the covers. They smelled of him, and I found a new happy place, wrapped around the musky and spicy scent that was Nathan. I was sure my therapist would like that. He never felt my happy place was happy enough.

I woke a few hours later wrapped up in Nathan’s arms. It was warm and inviting and I wanted it. I wanted him. Could I do it? Could I show him it was okay to love? Maybe it was best to go with the flow. Maybe we could both heal. What would Dr. Morgenson say? Shit, I needed to see him again; it’d been too long, several months.

I turned my head to look at him, taking in how peaceful his face was when he was asleep. I sighed as I moved to sit up; I needed to go home. It was too intoxicating being so close to him. I was drowning in Nathan.

“No,” he mumbled. “Stay.”

His arms pulled me back into his body, lips kissing my shoulder, nipping the skin beneath as his fingers flexed around my waist. His tongue slid out, tasting my skin, his hand moving down my stomach and teasing the skin at the top of my panties. He slid beneath the fabric and two of his fingers found my opening, pushing deep inside.

I cried out at the intrusion, one I’d been aching for. “Fuck!”

His hips rocked against my ass, his hard length pressing into me. “Mmm, your pu**y gets so f**king wet for me. Do you get this wet for other cocks, or just mine? Hmm?”

My body arched under his assault. His other hand moved to pinch my ni**les. I couldn’t stop the rocking of my hips, pushing farther down on his hand. I needed him deeper. “Nate… mmm, only you.”

“Good girl,” he said. “Or should I say naughty? Only naughty girls get this f**king soaked. Listen to you moaning like a whore. You love my fingers buried inside you, don’t you? Not as much as you love my c**k filling you to the hilt though.” His whispers were gruff and needy.

“Fuck no. You...oh God…filling me with your…fuck...” I moaned, barely able to keep myself from screaming incoherent sounds at his onslaught of my pu**y. “Cock! Please!”

His body left mine, his hand turning me onto my back as he slipped between my thighs. His clothed c**k nestled against my wet center, while his lips found mine for a searing kiss.

“This what you want? Right here?” He accentuated his words with a thrust of his hips, hitting my clit just right, making me scream out.

“Yes, yes, please.” I really was a slut for him, but only for him. He pulled my shirt over my head, tossing it on the floor, my bra following.

He leaned down and took my nipple into his mouth, his teeth scraping across my skin, fingers digging into my hips before hooking into my panties and pulling them down my legs. I pulled his shirt up and over his head while he pushed his pants down, freeing his straining cock. I licked my lips, wanting to taste, but was pushed back down on my back.

I could feel him at my opening a split second before he slid in, cursing as his forehead rested on mine.

“So f**king tight…every time. Why do you have to be so goddamn f**king tight?”

He rocked his hips until he was all the way in, and I felt full, whole. His arms wrapped around me, pulling our bodies flush as his hips began to move. There was a tenderness replacing the usual frenzy, a shift from what was and entering the possibility of what could be.

His hands, which were usually rough, were sensual, his need focused. His kisses were still hard, just calmer. It was like he was trying to burn himself into me with each slow, steady touch. I was caged in his arms. He was keeping me as close as possible; his head in the crook of my neck. His hips were slower, driving his c**k into me in long strokes.

“Baby, you feel so f**king good,” he whispered into my ear. “So sexy, so f**king irresistible. Don’t want to fight it anymore. Beautiful Lila. You make me crazy.”

It was a slow burn, my body humming with each thrust in and whimpering with each stroke out, our bodies rocking together. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced. The fire consumed me, my body and my heart opening up to him.

“You like that, don’t you? Oh, shit…you…you like my c**k thrusting into you, don’t you?” he asked, wanting an answer. “That’s how dirty of a slut you are. Tell me—you like my c**k always pumping into you?”

“No.”

“No?” he questioned, his voice losing the confident edge it held. He sounded unsure, his hips stopped moving, leaving him buried to the hilt. I had a hard time concentrating on anything at all when he was that deep inside me.

“No. I love it.”

“Fuck, shit.” His hips dug harder as his grip tightened. Speed increased, his teeth biting into my shoulder. I was getting close, whimpering at every movement.

If possible, he held me closer. His groans of pleasure had me shaking, sitting on the edge of my orgasm. I was panting into his neck, just behind his ear.

I wanted to mark him as he marked me, and I found my spot. I licked at his skin, tasting the saltiness of it. My mouth clamped onto the tendon right below his ear, sucking hard before my teeth pushed into his skin. Hard enough to mark, but not hard enough to break skin. Like he did to me.

“Shit!” he cried out, his thrusts becoming erratic.

I tipped over the edge, and screamed out his name as my pu**y clenched around him. “Nate!”

“That’s it, baby, f**king come. Shit, shit. Oh, f**k. You really do love this shit.” His body started shaking as his hips stilled. Our eyes were locked with one another, his hooded and glazed, and I was certain mine matched. I felt him emptying inside me, and I shuddered in ecstasy.

After his orgasm, his arms gave out, no longer able to hold his weight. He fell to the side, landing next to me on the bed, and pulled me up so that my head was resting on his chest.

Hours later, I awoke with the need to use the bathroom, prying myself from the death grip he had on me. Once done, I walked back into the bedroom and gazed at his sleeping form.

The light was starting to come in through the windows, illuminating his body. He was lying there, naked, the sheet barely covering below the waist, one of his legs sticking out. I had never seen him naked before; he had always been half dressed. But in that moment I could admire him in all his glory.

I walked closer to the bed and my stomach dropped. The sight before me was horrific. I felt as though I’d been punched in the gut.

A thick, jagged and raised pink scar ran on his left side from his ribs, down his side, and around his hip. It wasn’t the only scar. Some were jagged, others straight, but all were smaller than the one on his side, marring his beautiful body. There were holes next to some, indicating the wound had been stitched or stapled up. His left leg held the second largest scar, and it ran from above his knee to halfway down his shin. I studied his face as I tried to keep myself together. That was when I noticed the star shaped scar in his hairline, right above his ear.