Free Breathe for Me by Rhonda Helms Page B

knows I can’t.
    â€œTrust me. Please.”
    Those three words break through the last of my reserve. I know it’s stupid, I know it’s selfish, but I so desperately need to relax and let go of all this tension. Of this wall I’ve had to build between me and the world. For a few minutes, I want to feel like everyone else. Like a normal girl who can acknowledge her growing attraction to a boy she could fall for. And who could fall for her back.
    I stretch out along the couch and rest my arms at my sides.
    Dominic reaches toward me. I flinch instinctively, and he pauses, giving me a small smile. “I promise my skin won’t touch yours. I would never hurt you.”
    Hurting me isn’t the problem, but I bite my lower lip, nodding. Everything in his eyes shows me he means it. He doesn’t want me to get sick. And because of that lie, he can remain safe.
    I push my guilt aside and relax as he strokes the tops of my hands. My skin hums under the sensations of his touch, coming alive for what feels like the first time. Everywhere his fingers move leaves behind a trail of delicious pleasure. He brushes my knuckles, the tops of my fingernails, then flips my hands over and runs his thumbs across my palms.
    I want to close my eyes and fully soak in the moment, but I’m afraid to. So I leave them open and watch him. He kneels at my side, his lower legs and feet beneath the small coffee table at his back. His gloved hands knead their way up my lower arms, the thumbs sliding along the muscles in long strokes.
    I swallow, almost drowning in the heady sensation of falling under. In this moment, I am frozen—Dominic offers me a freedom to simply enjoy the moment without fear of harming him. It’s the most generous gift I remember ever receiving in my life.
    Heat pours from his palms, from his strong fingers, as they massage their way up my arms. They curve over my shoulders, and a tingle spreads from my lower belly through my torso and limbs. My body hums under his hands. When he brushes his fingers across my collarbone, I can’t stop the slight arch of my back, the hunger in my body to bring him closer. I am hypnotized by his touch.
    His eyes turn toward mine, and he stares at me. Through me. He can see me at my most raw, my most vulnerable. And it’s strange, but I’m not embarrassed. He smiles, his eyes crinkling in the corners. Wordless still, he slides his right hand across my belly.
    I gasp, swallowing hard as the tingle in my lower abdomen explodes into a throbbing ache.
    He stops, pressing his big hand against me, and we remain silent. I can hear him breathing in as I breathe out.
    â€œYou are beautiful,” he tells me. His words are simple. The impact echoes.
    I bite my lower lip. In this moment, I would give anything in the world to kiss him. To be able to feel that mouth against mine.
    Reality pours back into me, and I sigh. The moment is broken. “Thank you for the massage,” I say.
    He nods, his eyes shuttered—disappointment at my pulling away. Guilt twists my stomach. He pulls his hands away and stands up. “Glad you’re okay. I was just worried.”
    I sit up on the couch, my heart crying out a futile wish that the moment could have lasted longer. I already feel his absence. But it cannot be, and we’re all better off if I don’t let myself fall over the edge. “I’m fine.”
    He takes the seat beside me, then wraps his arm around the back of me and pulls my head onto his lap. His hand strokes the curls away from my face.
    I feel myself tugged into a deep comforting place. The tension in my body unwinds, leaving behind a blissful silence. Every stroke on my hair brings me closer to sleep, until I finally succumb.

    When I wake early in the morning, I am alone on the couch. I blink the sleep from my eyes and stretch, trying to recapture the sensation of Dominic’s warm body against mine, of his hands caressing my bare skin.