“Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. He can’t hurt you,” Nathan said as he wrapped his arms around me.

Tears were streaming down my face, and I turned into his chest as a sob ripped from me.

“I’ve got you, baby. You’re safe.”

He ran soothing caresses down my back, his touch grounding me to him as it always did. It was the third time in a week I’d woken in that dream.

It took a few minutes, but I was able to calm down, secure in his arms. He felt so good wrapped around me, and I gave in to the sensation of his skin on mine, the familiar heat from being so close to him was turning me on.

My need to feel more was great. I wanted the mind cleansing that only Nathan could provide.

I tilted my head up and pulled his lips down to mine. It was soft, his mouth traveling around my skin, placing open-mouthed kisses on my neck where the bruises from Adam’s hands had been. He was covering the bad touch with a loving and pleasurable one.

It’d been over two weeks since I was attacked, and it was the first time Nathan and I had attempted to be intimate since then. A moan slipped out as he licked up my neck, nipping just behind my ear.

“Fuck, baby, I need you,” he whispered into my ear, his hips rocking his cloth-covered c**k against my thigh.

His hand slid around the front, mouth on mine as he kissed me harder. It was what I wanted, what I needed; Nathan to consume me.

My hips began to rock in time with his as he pinched my nipple through the cloth of my t-shirt, the fire growing. His chest rumbled, and his grip became harder, his own desires releasing from the chains he’d kept them restrained in.

His hand moved down my side, squeezing my thigh hard before moving back up.

That action sparked an awareness and my mind cleared. My heart began sprinting as a panic set in with each inch his hand crawled up my thigh, pushing up the material of the t-shirt I was wearing.

When his hand reached the top of my thigh, fingers on my panties, I lost it. I screamed out as I pushed on his chest. “No!”

All his movements stopped, and he backed away to look at me. My fear echoed in his eyes.

“Lila?”

A shaky hand rose to my mouth when I realized what I’d done.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I said as dread and a new wave of sobs washed over me.

His eyes softened, and he leaned forward in a motion to wrap his arms around me. I jumped when he touched me, but melted into his embrace.

I apologized over and over as he held me, still in shock from my reaction. It was Nathan, the man I loved. How could I ever confuse his touch with Adam’s?

He wouldn’t touch me in an intimate way after that, and after my reaction, I couldn’t blame him.

Days later he was staring at me, his hands on either side of me braced on the counter, hovering. His body was shaking with need. We were both frustrated. I frowned up at him, my eyes pleading; he whimpered.

I sighed. “Please?” My fingers knotted in his shirt, trying to pull him to me.

His gaze moved to the floor, his head shaking. “I can’t, as much as I want you. I love you too much to hurt you like that again.”

My hands slapped flat against his chest. “You didn’t hurt me! I didn’t panic because of you.”

“It was my hand on your skin, Honeybear. You know how I am—I want to touch you in ways that I’m afraid will remind you. I can’t stand to see you like that, to have you push me away again.”

We were stuck in a standstill. Unable to move forward, and it was hurting us both.

Darren suggested a few exercises that would reintegrate Nathan’s touch, to become reacquainted with his naturally aggressive need.

“Touch me,” I said.

He had a worried look on his face as his hands trailed up my arms, across my shoulders, and up my neck to cup my face. A small gasp escaped when he passed over my neck as he moved down. His movements faltered, and he stared into my eyes to make sure I was okay. The touch was a light caress as he moved around. With the second pass, he put more pressure behind it.

For two weeks Nathan did that three times a day, each day starting off with a firmer grip.

It worked, because I was standing in the living room panting for him. His hands erased the vile memories on my skin. They were covered with the loving, possessive, passionate, spine-tingling ones of Nathan’s.

I jumped on him, sending us crashing to the couch behind him, unable to take any more.

“Oh, f**k, baby, are you sure?” he asked as my mouth ran down his neck, licking and sucking. My fingers searched out the hem of his shirt and pulled it up.

I sat up and looked him straight in the eye. “Nate, if you don’t f**k me right now, I’m going to have to take matters into my own hand.”

His eyes narrowed, and he bared his teeth at me. “Not going to f**king happen. I make you come. Me.” His hips flexed up, while his hands pushed my hips down as he slid his c**k against my clit.

My head tilted back, and my ni**les tightened.

“Then make me.” I smiled at him, waiting for him to take the bait and let go on me.

It was euphoric to be rid of the barrier that kept our sexual need locked down.

He grabbed my waist and flipped our positions before pulling both of our shirts off. He wasted no time unbuckling my jeans and pulling them off along with my panties.

The need was too great, so he didn’t even bother taking his own off, just pushed them to his knees and settled between my thighs.

My mind was clouded, lost in the lust and feel of Nathan. Only he could make my body sing so much, make me beg for more. The intensity was picking up as the desire grew to uncontrollable proportions, both of us making unintelligible sounds.

“Lila,” he growled against my neck, his mouth moving down to the meat of my shoulder, and biting down as he pushed his c**k between my slick folds.

The sensation of him filling me cut through the cloud of lust to send flames rushing through my veins. There were no thoughts flittering through my mind, only one word: more.

He gave me more with his hands gripping onto my waist and arms, pinning, moving, pulling.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this tight little snatch. My dirty girl is so wet for me.”

I whimpered, already on edge from his touch and weeks of teasing. With a few more thrusts, I was clenching around him and screaming his name.

His hips jerked, expletives flying from his lips as he let go of weeks’ worth of build-up.