“No one has touched me since my mother died, unless it was to inflict pain,” he whispers against my lips. “I crave it but it hurts.” My hands immediately leave his skin, hovering over his body. The idea of causing him more pain breaks my heart. I can’t hurt him. “No, no.” He pulls my hands back against him. “I need it, please.” “I don’t want to hurt you.” My throat is clogged with emotion, making it hard to speak. “You don’t. You make it better.”
