Chapter 19

Shay

When I’m back on the table to continue today’s torture session, Dr. Lanny apologizes repeatedly for putting her foot in her mouth.

I tell her it’s complicated while she continues a form of cupping, only she’s using her fingers for most of it. She’s searching my fascia lines for lack of blood flow. I’m not sure what these lines are despite her explanation. I’ll have to look it up when I get a chance.

At one point, she turns on her electronic cupping apparatus to force the blood to flow on the side of my stomach. I want to punch her. It’s a similar feeling to when my friends and I twisted the skin on each other’s arm on the playground—only times a hundred.

“Maybe it’s because we just shared a near death experience, but that man loves you. It’s written all over his face.”

“That’s part of the complication,” I admit. When she doesn’t press, I continue. “He’s used to having sex every night. I bet he doesn’t even know how many women he’s slept with. I’m just going to disappoint him.”

Dr. Lanny stops pulling my skin and grabs my hand. “Telling him the truth may tear you both apart, but what if it brings you closer together?”

A tear slips down my cheek.

She doesn’t tarry long before she’s back, ripping at my skin. “Honey, my husband loves me, but he’s never looked at me how that man looks at you.”

No more is said between us about Jayce as she finishes up. “Next time we’ll do the same thing, but on your back area.”

Oh goodie. I can’t wait.

After scheduling another appointment, I ask the one question I’ve avoided since my first visit. “How long before pain free sex is a possibility?”

“On average, about twenty weeks to fully heal. But I would recommend testing yourself sooner, when you feel ready. It’s good to gauge your progress.”

Fourteen more weeks. A little over three months. And there are no guarantees.

Jayce waits for me outside on the sidewalk, covered in debris.

“I’m sorry about your truck,” I say over the lump in my throat. I realize that if he’d kept his promise, his dead body would be inside of the cab.

“Don’t be. I’m not. It’s easily replaced if Damian can’t fix it. He’s on his way here now with a chainsaw and his tow truck.”

I didn’t know Damian worked on vehicles.

Jayce takes me by the hand. The doctor’s office is part of Old Town Slidell. We’ve got an hour to kill, so Jayce suggests walking around to see if the tornado caused other damages nearby.

Nothing. It’s as if the tornado touched the street we were on and nowhere else within walking distance.

The silence between us as we stroll adds to my nerves. Coupled with the burning left behind from today’s therapy, I’m ready to crawl out of my skin.

“I’ve never had sex without excruciating pain,” I admit under my breath softly. I know he hears me with his superior hearing.

Jayce brings us to a halt and turns toward me. Looking at him is the last thing I want to do.

He coaxes my chin with his finger, forcing me to look his way.

“I’m assuming since you’re in therapy that this isn’t a permanent condition?”

My eyes stare at the cement below our feet. “My therapy ends in fourteen weeks, but it’s not a guarantee.”

“And there’s an exercise you need my help with?”

The tone of desire in his voice pulls my eyes to his.

“I have the wand she recommends when patients don’t have someone to help. She says that a partner’s finger is more effective.”

His gaze twinkles. “Haven’t you figured out I’d do anything for you?”

“Yeah, like helping me with my vagina therapy,” I mock.

He tosses his head back and laughs. “Especially helping with your vagina therapy. Is it really called that?”

“No, but it’s what I call it.”

Everything fades around us when he places his hands on my cheeks while looking deeper into my eyes. “Shay, I’m going to kiss you now. Kiss you in a way no one’s ever kissed you.”

I gulp.

My perfect kiss that I’ve always pictured would include a symphony of emotions and sensations. It would comprise passion, tenderness, and a connection that would leave a lasting imprint on both of our souls. It would be more about an emotional depth of intimacy shared in the moment than about a physical act.

I brace myself for disappointment. If he fails to deliver on his promise of a kiss like no one else, maybe I can finally let him go.

My hearts races with anticipation. My overloaded sense of desire for him heightens.

Seeing the reflection of my own longing mirrored back at me in his dark eyes makes it harder to breathe .

Slowly, he closes the distance between us. His breath mingles with mine in a captivating dance.

Our lips meet in a soft, tentative caress at first—a gentle exploration that speaks volumes without words.

His hands never leave my face, his touch conveying his love for me.

As the kiss deepens, our mutual passion ignites like wildfire, consuming us.

His mouth moves in perfect harmony with mine. Each movement of our tongues and lips is a testament of our shared longing.

The soft brush of his lips, the silky feel of his beard against my skin, the warmth of his breath, the gentle tug of desire pulls us closer together.

I’m never going to let him go, even though one day I’ll have no choice.

A horn honks, forcing us to break apart, breathless and exhilarated.

What we shared was more than just a kiss—it was his promise of a love that transcended words, a love that would endure through every trial we face together.

Only it’s a promise he’ll have to break when his true mate’s clock ticks.