ace, lost in
the water from the shower. Oh, Christian! Who did this
to you?
His diaphragm moves rapidly with each shallow breath,
his body is rigid, tension radiating off him in wa一ves as my
hands move along the line, erasing it. Oh, if I could just
erase your pain, I would—I’d do anything—and I want
nothing more than to kiss every single scar I see, to kiss
away those hideous years of neglect. But I know I can’t,
and my tears fall unbidden down my cheeks.
“No. Please, don’t cry,” he murmurs, his voice
anguished as he wraps me tightly in his arms. “Please don’t
cry for me.” And I burst into full-blown sobs, burying my
face against his neck, as I think of a little boy lost in a sea
of fear and pain, frightened, neglected, abused—hurt
beyond all endurance.
Pulling away, he clasps my head with both hands, tilts it
backward, and leans down to kiss me.
“Don’t cry, Ana, please,” he murmurs against my
mouth. “It was long ago. I am aching for you to touch me,
but I just can’t bear it. It’s too much. Please, please don’t
cry.”
“I want to touch you, too. More than you’ll ever know.
To see you like this . . . so hurt and afraid, Christian . . . it
wounds me deeply. I love you so much.”
He runs his thumb across my bottom lip. “I know. I
know,” he whispers.
know,” he whispers.
“You’re very easy to love. Don’t you see that?”
“No, baby, I don’t.”
“You are. And I do and so does your family. So do
Elena and Leila—they ha一ve a strange way of showing it—
but they do. You are worthy.”
“Stop.” He puts his finger over my lips and shakes his
head, an agonized expression on his face. “I can’t hear
this. I’m nothing, Anastasia. I’m a husk of a man. I don’t
ha一ve a heart.”
“Yes, you do. And I want it, all of it. You’re a good
man, Christian, a really good man. Don’t ever doub一t that.
Look at what you’ve done . . . what you’ve achieved,” I
sob. “Look what you’ve done for me . . . what you’ve
turned your back on, for me,” I whisper. “I know. I know
how you feel about me.”
He gazes down at me,
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