Branded

I blink back tears, reaching up to gently remove his finger from my lips.

“Can I speak now?”

He laughs nervously before nodding his head.

“I had a problem.”

I think about that for a minute and then shake my head.

“Correction, I have a problem. I haven’t done it since before we got together, but it’s always there in the back of my mind, even if I don’t have the urge to do it. I wasn’t angry with you about the things you said. I knew what your reaction would be and I knew what conclusion you would jump to. I was angry with myself for being so weak and for doing whatever I could to push you away,” I explain.

He brings my hand up to his lips and kisses my palm, but he knows I need to keep going so he stays silent.

“I don’t even know what made me start doing it exactly. One day I just felt so much pressure and so much anger and I needed to release it. I was banging around the kitchen and I burned my hand on the stove. It just… did something to me. The pain in my hand made me forget about the pain in my mind. I did that a few times whenever I felt my anger brewing inside of me, but Finnley started to notice the blisters on my fingers and she asked questions that I didn’t know how to answer.”

I take a deep breath and look away from DJ to trace circles with my fingertip onto his chest.

“I decided to start hiding what I was doing. The most logical place was on my hips where no one would ever see it. That’s why I’ve always kept my underwear on or the lights off during sex. I did whatever I could to hide what I did. I was ashamed, but that didn’t stop me from doing it. Pain got confused with pleasure. It made the anger go away and it helped me breathe. I felt so constricted and so torn up, and burning myself was the only thing that gave me any relief.”

I finally look up at him and shrug. “It’s pretty fucked up considering that’s how I spent most of my childhood. The exact thing I feared and hated growing up turned out to be the only thing I could do to make the fear and the hate go away.”

DJ leans forward and kisses me. “I wish you would have told me. I wish I would have known.”

I shrug again, resting my chin on my hand against his chest. “No one knew. I never even told Finnley. Like I said, I was embarrassed, especially with you. I didn’t want you to look at me and see how messed up I was.”

He shakes his head. “You’re not messed up and I would never think that.”

“I AM messed up, but it’s okay. I’m going to get help. I’m going to talk to someone. Even though I don’t have the urge to do it anymore, I want to make sure I never do again. I want to be good for you, I want to be a whole, healed person for you.”

He wraps his arm around me and hugs me tightly. “I just want you to know, you’re already perfect for me. Everything about you is exactly what I need, but if this is something you need, I fully support it. Don’t do it for me, do it for yourself.”

I smile up at him. “I love you, Drake Jefferson Taylor. I will do it for myself, I promise. You put a mark on my heart that will never go away. You branded me with your love and I know it’s the only thing I’ll ever need to keep the pain away.”

“A mark on your heart, huh? So it’s sort of like I pissed on my territory,” he says with a laugh.

I smack his chest and laugh with him. “You’re an ass!”

He moves quickly, flipping me over onto my back and resting his body between my thighs. “I’m your ass, my little Fireball, and you’re stuck with me. I just need you to promise me one thing.”

I slide my hands through his hair and feel him harden as he presses himself against me. The smile slips from his face and he looks down at me seriously.

“Never, ever die on me again. My heart can’t take losing you a second time.”

I look up at him, this man who fought for me, believed in me and saved me from myself. I look at him and I know that I’m the luckiest woman on earth.

“I promise,” I whisper softly as me slips inside of me. “No more dying, no more branding, nothing but this.”

He moves inside of me and I sigh in relief, having him right where I need him.

“This is all I need to breathe,” I whisper.

Six months later…

“I can’t do this anymore,” DJ tells me in a frustrated voice.

I put my hands on my hips and glare at him. “Yeah? Well, I can’t either!”

He throws his hands in the air and stomps away from me while I cross my arms in front of me waiting for him to say more. I just know he wants to say more. Clearly, he hasn’t pissed me off enough in the last hour.

“You can’t keep doing this to me. It’s killing me. KILLING ME!” he shouts to the wall.

“Oh, my God, quit being so dramatic.”

He whirls around and stomps back to me, grabbing the binder from the counter on his way. He holds it in front of me and stabs at the open page.

“Five times. FIVE FUCKING TIMES you’ve changed the backsplash in this kitchen and now you’re telling me that THIS is the one you have to have.”

I stare longingly at the Tuscan marble tile that he’s pointing to and sigh. “It’s so beautiful.”

He growls, tossing the binder back on top of the counter. “The crosshatch silver was gorgeous, the Murano Mosaic was stunning and the brushed nickel was…I forget, what was the brushed nickel again?” he asks in annoyance.

“Complimentary to the appliances,” I reply through clenched teeth. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">