Page 16 of Speechless
She closed her eyes. When he put it that way, it sounded rather appealing. Someone with broader shoulders offering to carry the weight that bowed her own fragile frame? A rarity in her world.
Kindness was a gift never given in her world.
She’d never been a good girl.
A tear slipped down her temple before she realized it was waiting to fall. As it tracked into her hair—clean, soft, scented hair—she knew there was more to come and willed them back. Tears were for solitude, for the dark where no one saw them fall and her misery was hidden.
That was her life.
Chapter Four
Connor swept his featherlight armful upstairs before she opened her eyes again. If she thought he hadn’t seen the tear slide free, she thought wrong. Just as she thought she could hide from him by closing him out.
She’d learn, quickly, that she wasn’t alone anymore.
There was no way to know how deep the extent of the mental damage coursed through her mind. He doubted if she knew herself. What was far beyond normal to him could be her perception of regularity.
Well, perceptions could be altered.
She curled into him as he shifted her carefully to fit her through the bathroom door without smacking her head into the jamb. She didn’t need a concussion to deal with on top of everything else. One tiny hand gripped the front of his shirt, fingernails broken down to the quick.
Work-roughened hands. Dry, cracked, scarred. The hands of a woman in her sunset days after decades of hard work and physical labor. Jenna’s hands were completely out of place, belying her…what, twenty-something years? Stress and abuse skewed his guess at her age, wearing lines into an otherwise youthful face.
It hurt to think he had to dig deep beneath the surface of her bravery into the raw nerves of what had been done to her. If he was going to find her true identity, get her back to her family, digging was the only way to discover the girl behind the woman.
Trust was the key, the glue that would keep her from running when everything became too much, too overwhelming for her to deal with. What else could a person do when made to confront their past? Run fast and far away.
Connor wanted desperately for her to run tohim.
It had been too long since he’d last had a woman. Not just as a submissive, but in general. He missed the scent of an aroused female, the feel of warm skin beneath his hands as he learned her body, her wants, her deepest desires. It seemed like decades since he’d had the pleasure of waking with feminine curves pressed against him, sliding his hand over a shapely hip and hearing a sleepy moan of delight in response.
It occurred to him Jenna might never regain her voice. He might never hear her laugh or moan. There was a good chance his name wouldn’t make it past those pretty lips, and that—if she ever trusted him enough with her body—he’d be denied the gift of hearing her sing in orgasm.
Jesus, what the hell was he doing, building an imaginary future with her? The lass couldn’t even tell him her real name, never mind pledge herself to him with undying devotion. No matter what those lush eyes of hers said when she looked at him—and look at him she had when he’d broken several lines and kissed her—she couldn’t give him verbal consent.
She refused to let his shirt go when he set her down on her feet. Held on with a determination he admired when he knocked down the lid on the toilet and pushed her into sitting on it. Her knuckles went white as he gently pried her fingers free, her eyes popping open with fear when he stepped away.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Connor assured her, fixing the plug into the bathtub and setting the water running. The relief on her gaunt face gnawed at his belly, set his dominant instincts into high drive, only for him to squash them ruthlessly.
The meek, mute little mouse in front of him wasn’t ready for Connor the Dom. She was barely coping with Connor the Doc, and it was the physician side of him who held most importance in her life right now. Helping her heal, restoring her body back to vitality, was his only priority.
Kissing her senseless again was not on the treatment plan.
“Take the shirt off, baby.” He spoke quietly, turning to grab a clean towel from the rack in the corner, setting it on the floor beside the tub. When he faced Jenna again, she was worrying the hem of the long T-shirt in her fingers, biting her bottom lip between her teeth. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, Jenna. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want.”
Her chin quivered. Dark as emeralds, her eyes rose hesitantly to meet his. She might be speechless, but by God, those eyes spoke volumes. There was trust between them, he knew it as readily as he saw it shimmer in the green, but they had miles to go before trust completely overrode her fears.
Jenna glanced at the tub, then back at Connor with a puzzled frown.
“I know you’ve not long since had a shower,” he told her with a nod of understanding. Slowly, he dropped to one knee beside her. “You’ve been sick, and you’re sticky with sweat. You’ll sleep better if you’re clean.”
Her mouth moved into a cute moue.
“Don’t pout, baby. Freshen up and I’ll tuck you in. It’s going to take time for you to heal. Longer for your energy levels and weight to get back to normal. This isn’t a quick process, Jenna. It’ll be hard and frustrating, but worth it.” He lifted her chin when her shoulders sagged, head falling forward. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
She nodded without enthusiasm and, idiot that he was, he couldn’t help pressing a kiss to her forehead before pushing to his feet. “Good girl. Now, let’s see if I can find you a spare toothbrush.”
Walking to the cabinet across the room, he rummaged through drawers for supplies. He was sure he had a spare one somewhere, but if push came to shove, she could use his. No doubt a trip to the dentist was on the cards for the future—basic hygiene hadn’t been important to her captor.