Less than Perfect

22. PitterPat {part two}

Her mouth threatened to gape at him, taken so far aback that she couldn't feel the pulsing in her temples anymore. She fell completely silent, trying to speak again and again, but only coming short. She screamed at herself inside, demanding that she'd speak and tell him he was wrong, but no matter how hard she tried, nothing happened. Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach, eyes stung with tears, breath caught in her throat—she was frozen, staring at the man she loved with such a frazzled, timid stare.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut. "I shouldn't have let that happen, Skye. I'm terribly sorry I did that to you. It was wrong—we both know it was wrong."

Tears cascaded down her pale face, emotions raging inside of her. Gaining enough courage, she managed to speak quiet sounds of a trembling heart, "I wanted you to touch me, Jules. I wanted what just happened to happen. Maybe it could have been better, how it came about and ended up, but I don't regret it." She shook her head. "I could never regret being with you, taking chances. What you did wasn't wrong, Jules. So please don't apologize, it wasn't your f—"

"It was my fault, Skye!" He looked at her—eyes red and swollen, dark and far away—face set in a grim expression. "I hurt you, and if you don't think I did, well—I could have hurt you. Don't you see that, Skye? Don't you get that? You have no idea what I'm capable of!"

She scooted closer to the edge of the bed, closer to him, but he only backed away, fists clenched in distress. Her breath was escaping her, the air growing frighteningly cold around her, everything clenching her in a miserable knot, squeezing the life out of her. What was he saying? Was he trying to tell her that, without a doubt, he would hurt her? She couldn't breathe as all of the air in her lungs left her, leaving a desperate ache in its place. He wouldn't hurt her, she'd convinced herself, frowning when she remembered his sudden temper, something so unusual it didn't go unnoticed. She could tell from the look in his eyes that he was torn and nervous, angry with himself too. It broke her heart to see him so worked up.

Slowly, she closed her heavy eyes and took a deep breath. Breathe, Skye, she instructed herself, you can handle this. Despite the pain that pounded through her head, clouding her thoughts and fracturing the feeling of security she'd once felt, she shook her head. Her hands were clasped together, tightly, palms sticky with sweat. She was so confused, so torn, wondering why Jules could possibly be acting the way he was. Don't know what I'm capable of? What was that supposed to mean?

She had no idea.

But what she did know was that she had to change his mind. She was certain that she had to calm him down, convince him that everything would be fine. With every last nerve in her body, she wanted to be sure he knew that she wasn't scared of him. She wanted him to understand that she trusted him and wasn't worried about him hurting her, needed it. Although, despite her feeble attempts at clearing his unease at what they'd found themselves doing away from her mind, there was still that part of her—small but painful—that told her there truly was something more behind Jules's warnings. Something wasn't quite right—something awfully unnerving.

Searching for his face, Skye crossed her legs and chewed on the insides of her cheek, on edge about what was happening between them. "Julian," she croaked, using his full name for the main purpose to get his attention solely focused on her. Her heart dropped when she saw the pain and confusion flash across his face as he tilted his head to peak a glance at her. "You would never hurt me." A sob threatened to burst from her lips, to break down the barrier she'd put up. She softened her raspy voice, with every will she could muster. "Please, Jules,"—she hoped calling him by the name he preferred would lighten the situation—"stop suggesting that you will hurt me. I know you would never sink to that level; you're too loving, too gentle."