Read Online Enemy Mine (Unseen Enemy Book 3) by Marysol James - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Marysol James
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shivered.
Was that fear? Or something else?
Emma was right: there was something incredibly intimate about asking Chris to touch her face. She knew he’d be gentle, careful. But still – it felt like crossing a major line of some kind. It felt like she’d be lowering a major protective barrier; she knew she’d have to show trust in him that she hadn’t had in anyone for a long, long time. Maybe even before the rapes.
Jenny quickly towelled dry and put on some jeans and a loose blouse. She pulled her long hair back, and dug around until she found a nice thick pair of socks. Chris had lit the fireplace in the living room, but the wooden floors were still chilly sometimes.
Chris was just draining the pasta when she came in to the kitchen. He grinned at her.
“You look beautiful, Jenny. All pink and gold. Gorgeous.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Thank you.”
He looked at her, happy that she had finally accepted a compliment without protest, or looking uncomfortable.
Well, that’s a first . Maybe she’s starting to see herself the way that I do?
They sat at the kitchen table, eating and talking. Chris regaled her with a story about the scary biker who’d shown up that day with a bullet hole in his bike, and Jenny told him a far tamer story about dropping an entire platter of raw fish in to the batter for a wedding cake.
After, they washed the dishes, standing side-by-side at the sink, Jenny washing and Chris drying. Then they settled on to the sofa in front of the fire and Chris reached for the remote.
“What do you want to watch tonight?” he asked as he took her hand in his. “Your turn to choose.”
“Um.” She cleared her throat. “Actually… I wanted to… to try something new. For you to – to touch me. Differently.”
Chris looked up, totally alert. “OK. How?”
“My – my face.” She blushed.
Oh, my God. I’d love to touch her face… I’ve dreamed about it .
“OK.” He took a deep breath. “Where exactly?”
“I – I don’t know.” She thought about it for a minute. “Maybe just my cheek? One cheek?”
“Alright, sweetheart.” He moved a bit closer, watching her closely. “You ready?”
She nodded, trying to remember to breathe.
Slowly, Chris reached out with his right hand and skimmed the tips of his fingers over her face. She froze, her breath catching.
He dropped his hand. “Jenny?”
“Yeah. I’m OK.”
“OK.”
He stroked her cheek again, applying a bit more pressure. She closed her eyes, trying to push down the anxiety. His fingers stilled, stayed in place. He waited. When she didn’t panic or pull away, he cupped the side of her face in his palm. He longed to run his thumb along her jaw and down her throat, but he didn’t budge. He just cradled her sweet face and hoped for the best.
Jenny opened her eyes to see him gazing at her seriously and despite her fear, she smiled.
“It’s OK, Chris.” She reached up and set her hand on top of his. “It feels good.”
“Is this enough?” he asked softly. “Or do you want me to touch the other side too?”
“No!” She recoiled at the thought of being trapped like that, of being held in place, hands gripping her face. Memory washed over her and she felt her breath coming faster, tighter.
“OK,” he said, his voice soothing. “We don’t have to, baby. Only as much as you want, when you want. Right?”
She nodded, trying to calm her breathing.
They sat for a few minutes, Chris watching her struggle to stay where she was. She was shaking a bit, and her hands were clenched up in to fists. He stayed silent, knowing that she’d relax eventually. Finally, she lowered his hand away from her face and held on to it tightly.
“I was wondering…” Her voice trailed off.
“What?”
“Can I – touch you?”
His heart jumped. “Of course.”
Jenny reached out and he closed his eyes when her cool hands cupped his face. She ran her fingers over his cheekbones, his jaw, his closed eyelids. She
Was that fear? Or something else?
Emma was right: there was something incredibly intimate about asking Chris to touch her face. She knew he’d be gentle, careful. But still – it felt like crossing a major line of some kind. It felt like she’d be lowering a major protective barrier; she knew she’d have to show trust in him that she hadn’t had in anyone for a long, long time. Maybe even before the rapes.
Jenny quickly towelled dry and put on some jeans and a loose blouse. She pulled her long hair back, and dug around until she found a nice thick pair of socks. Chris had lit the fireplace in the living room, but the wooden floors were still chilly sometimes.
Chris was just draining the pasta when she came in to the kitchen. He grinned at her.
“You look beautiful, Jenny. All pink and gold. Gorgeous.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Thank you.”
He looked at her, happy that she had finally accepted a compliment without protest, or looking uncomfortable.
Well, that’s a first . Maybe she’s starting to see herself the way that I do?
They sat at the kitchen table, eating and talking. Chris regaled her with a story about the scary biker who’d shown up that day with a bullet hole in his bike, and Jenny told him a far tamer story about dropping an entire platter of raw fish in to the batter for a wedding cake.
After, they washed the dishes, standing side-by-side at the sink, Jenny washing and Chris drying. Then they settled on to the sofa in front of the fire and Chris reached for the remote.
“What do you want to watch tonight?” he asked as he took her hand in his. “Your turn to choose.”
“Um.” She cleared her throat. “Actually… I wanted to… to try something new. For you to – to touch me. Differently.”
Chris looked up, totally alert. “OK. How?”
“My – my face.” She blushed.
Oh, my God. I’d love to touch her face… I’ve dreamed about it .
“OK.” He took a deep breath. “Where exactly?”
“I – I don’t know.” She thought about it for a minute. “Maybe just my cheek? One cheek?”
“Alright, sweetheart.” He moved a bit closer, watching her closely. “You ready?”
She nodded, trying to remember to breathe.
Slowly, Chris reached out with his right hand and skimmed the tips of his fingers over her face. She froze, her breath catching.
He dropped his hand. “Jenny?”
“Yeah. I’m OK.”
“OK.”
He stroked her cheek again, applying a bit more pressure. She closed her eyes, trying to push down the anxiety. His fingers stilled, stayed in place. He waited. When she didn’t panic or pull away, he cupped the side of her face in his palm. He longed to run his thumb along her jaw and down her throat, but he didn’t budge. He just cradled her sweet face and hoped for the best.
Jenny opened her eyes to see him gazing at her seriously and despite her fear, she smiled.
“It’s OK, Chris.” She reached up and set her hand on top of his. “It feels good.”
“Is this enough?” he asked softly. “Or do you want me to touch the other side too?”
“No!” She recoiled at the thought of being trapped like that, of being held in place, hands gripping her face. Memory washed over her and she felt her breath coming faster, tighter.
“OK,” he said, his voice soothing. “We don’t have to, baby. Only as much as you want, when you want. Right?”
She nodded, trying to calm her breathing.
They sat for a few minutes, Chris watching her struggle to stay where she was. She was shaking a bit, and her hands were clenched up in to fists. He stayed silent, knowing that she’d relax eventually. Finally, she lowered his hand away from her face and held on to it tightly.
“I was wondering…” Her voice trailed off.
“What?”
“Can I – touch you?”
His heart jumped. “Of course.”
Jenny reached out and he closed his eyes when her cool hands cupped his face. She ran her fingers over his cheekbones, his jaw, his closed eyelids. She
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