Darkest Before Dawn (Page 74)

But what about what she deserved?

He had no experience with virgins. Innocents. He didn’t partake in sex much. It was a distraction he couldn’t afford. He took care of his needs when necessary but sex, like so much else in his life, was mechanical. No feeling, no heart. Just physical release.

And he knew, he knew, that with Honor there would be no hiding behind his iron facade. She had a way of stripping away the layers until he was raw and vulnerable and completely bare, with none of the protection he always surrounded himself with.

“Honor.”

It was a whisper of a sound. He could barely form her name much less voice it aloud.

“Look at me,” he pleaded.

At first she refused, staring stoically ahead into nothingness. He recognized it immediately. She was becoming more adept at retreating deep into herself, steeling herself for what lay in store for her. Pain. Humiliation. Degradation and finally death.

But goddamn it, she didn’t need to retreat into herself with him. Never him.

“Honor, please look at me.”

Reluctantly, she swung her gaze to meet his, and the hurt in her eyes knotted his throat. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t massage away the pain in his chest. The kind so deep that nothing could take it away. It would be permanently etched into his heart for all time.

“I was not rejecting you, baby. Never you. I was stunned. Humbled. And I was afraid,” he admitted.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Afraid? Why?” She was clearly confused. She didn’t think he feared anything at all. That he was invincible. And for the most part she was right. But she had no idea that his one weakness lay before him asking him to do what every part of his heart, mind and body screamed to do. Touch her with tenderness. Make love to her when he’d never made love to another woman in his life. Sex was sex. But sex with Honor? It would be the first time he ever offered more than simply his dick and his mouth to pleasure a woman. With Honor, he’d share everything that he was and everything he wasn’t. And it scared the hell out of him.

“Because you deserve so much better than me,” he said honestly. “I don’t know if I can be what you need. You deserve to be treated gently, like the treasure you are. You deserve for that gift to be cherished and respected, and I’m not a good man. I’m selfish. I have no experience with virgins. And I would hate myself if I hurt you. I would despise myself. It would kill me if I hurt you, Honor.”

He closed his eyes at the absurdity of such a statement. He had hurt her. And he would hurt her again. He would give her to a man who would hurt her endlessly. Who would then give her to men who would degrade and torture her until she prayed with every painful breath for mercy and for death. Never had he hated himself more than he did in this moment. He despised who and what he was, when before he’d merely accepted it as a necessary evil in order to do his job. To try and make the world a better place. Sacrificing Honor in no way made anything goddamn better.

“You’re wrong,” she said, lifting her chin, daring him to defy her. “You wouldn’t hurt me. You would be gentle and sweet. And you’re also wrong about this being a gift from me. It would be a gift from you to me. This time, I’ll not ask for another thing from you. I swear it. I won’t make you feel even worse for what you must do when we both know you have no choice. But tonight . . . Tonight is ours to do what we want. No rules. No mission. No saving the world. That’s for another day. But tonight I want to feel something other than fear and hate and pain.”

Her eyes became haunted, as his surely must be.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight, Hancock,” she said, in a low, embarrassed voice as though she hated revealing a weakness. That she needed someone to comfort her and touch her even for just one night.

“You will not beg me for anything,” he said harshly. “I would give you the world if I could, Honor. I swear I would. If only . . .”

He closed his eyes, slamming shut the wishes and if onlys, knowing that path led only to unfathomable pain.

“Don’t,” she said, her voice filled with sorrow.

To emphasize her statement, she pushed a gentle finger to his lips. Unable to resist such temptation, he flicked his tongue out and sucked the tip of her finger into his mouth.

“No one is ever guaranteed a tomorrow,” she continued softly, tamping down the emotion, knowing it hurt him. And tonight she was determined they both forget their pain. Just for a few stolen hours.

“But we have tonight. Bristow is no threat. Your men will guard you well. Please, grant me this last request, Hancock. I would like to know how it’s supposed to be. I don’t want to die without ever knowing pleasure.”

“You’re so sure I’m capable of being this fantasy lover,” he said in a near growl.

She shook her head, her eyes flashing. “Fantasies are for people who can’t see or touch what it is they want. I don’t want a fantasy, Hancock. I only want you. And as I’ve never done this before, I’ll hardly know if you do it wrong,” she added ruefully.

“I won’t do it wrong,” he said gruffly. “I’d never touch you with anything but tenderness, as much as I’m capable of anyway. I’m not a gentle man. I’m rough and demanding. I don’t trust that I can be what you need right now. What I want would probably send you screaming and crawling under the bed.”

Her eyes widened, but not in fear or even shock. There was definite curiosity. And interest. Her face became flushed and her eyes took on a hazy glow that told him she was aroused by what he’d said, how he’d said it.