DM & D Chapter 16 M

by whimsik

Daragon

DM&D Chapter 16 (M)

SHE was crying, and not simple tears. Not with mere guilt. Every sob sounded as if it ripped a new piece of her heart out, as if every dream she‟d ever had had been crushed forever. Jiyong‟s stomach crashed to his toes.

"Sugar," he implored with a soft knock. "Open the door. I‟m so sorry. I lost my temper. I didn‟t mean to scare you."

No response, just more of the rending cries that clawed his gut with fear and regret. Feeling two inches tall, he leaned against the door, hands pressed to it, wishing like hell that he could reach through and comfort her. How could a few inches of wood separate them so completely, as if a continent of pain and regret stood between them?

"Talk to me, Dara."

Under the door‟s crack, he saw her sitting on the floor, huddled, and ran a frustrated hand down his face. What the hell had he done? Seungri‟s lifestyle wasn‟t his. Jiyong had never felt the need to tie up a woman, especially in anger. Whatever she might have done with Taeyang, Dara had been hurt before. Raped. The terror on her face, the flashback to her past, had been a bitter slap of a reminder for Jiyong. The fact she could even mentally put him in the same category as the man who hurt her was the worst sort of pain. He felt like a thoughtless snake. Damn it.

"Sugar, please. I won‟t hurt you. I won‟t touch you. Just come out so we can talk."

Silence. Then a sniffle and a shuffle. She got to her feet. His heart leapt, and hope seized him that she would open the door, hear him out. This time, he‟d listen to her explanation about her time with Taeyang. Even if it was exactly what he thought it was, he doubted Dara meant to hurt him. She had no idea he loved her. Maybe he should confess. Maybe they could talk through their problems and salvage everything.

Instead of removing the barrier between them, she walked away and started the shower.

He knocked again. No answer. Long minutes passed. The spray of water was loud . . . but not enough to drown out the continued sobs that split the air and tore at his heart.

Calling to her wasn‟t doing any good, and all this crying couldn‟t be good for her or the baby. Her home had been viciously invaded and she‟d been scared out of her mind both by an intruder and her own husband. He had to focus on that, had to reach her and persuade her to let him help.

Another jagged cry sounded over the water. God, she could hardly catch a breath. The sobs were coming faster now, each sounding more wrenching than the last. Jiyong couldn‟t take it anymore.

Thanking God for T.O.P.'s insistence that he know forms of self-defense, including martial arts, Jiyong gathered his energy, centered it, then kicked the bathroom door. With a crash and a splintering of wood, it gave in.

Behind the shower curtain, she gasped as the door lurched on its hinges and crashed against the wall.

Once inside, Jiyong didn‟t hesitate. He yanked back the shower curtain. Inside, Dara sat on the shower bench under scalding water, steam rising around her. She'd curled her knees up to her chest, her teeth chattering viciously. She looked up at him with haunted blue eyes, mascara running down her face.

The sight kicked him in the stomach.

Swallowing his nerves, he climbed into the shower, clothes, shoes, and all. Hot water pelted him, plastering his hair to his shoulders and neck. He barely noticed. Instead, he lifted his wife into his arms. Thank God, she went without a fight.

Jiyong sat on the shower bench and set Dara in his lap. "I‟m so sorry."

She closed her eyes, stiffened. "I came home a little after four this morning to find the house had been broken into, called nine-one-one and Taeyang. I didn‟t call you. It was two in the morning in Los Angeles. There was nothing you could do."

Her monotone voice sounded dead. Jiyong ached all over again for her.

"I‟m listening."

"Taeyang examined the crime scene before Deukkie got there. While Taeyang was looking around, I got sick, passed out."

"What?" Jiyong tightened his arms around her.

"The paint fumes and perfume and shock, I guess. When I came to, I was in Taeyang‟s car and he was taking me to the emergency room. I told him I didn‟t need to go. I just needed sleep."

"Did he take you anyway?" Jiyong asked hopefully.

Dara shook her head. "I pleaded. He insisted that I eat something, and he can‟t cook. So we went to that egg place not far from the club. After I‟d eaten, I started cramping."

"Like you‟d eaten something bad? It usually takes longer for food—"

"No. Like menstrual cramps."

Jiyong‟s heart came to a screeching halt.

"I went to the restaurant‟s bathroom." She began sobbing again, nearly uncontrollably.

He curled her against his chest and kissed her forehead.

"Please, take a deep breath. This isn‟t good for you."

Finally, she managed to breathe deeply; then she swallowed back tears.

"I found blood."

Oh, Jesus Christ. His stomach went into a free fall.

"Did you go to the emergency room?"

Again, she shook her head. "I was afraid we‟d have to wait too long. I called my new obstetrician. She agreed to meet me at her office before hours, so Taeyang took me there, waited while the doctor examined me."

And he'd missed all of this. Jiyong stroked her shoulder, pressed another kiss to her forehead. Not only had he missed it; he‟d heaped more shit on her. Why the fuck hadn‟t he listened instead of letting his jealousy do the talking?

"Are you okay?" Jiyong was almost afraid to ask the question. "What did she say?"

"That it‟s not uncommon to spot if you‟re on your feet too much or under too much stress."

Without a doubt, Dara suffered from both.

"The baby is okay. But she told me to rest. Sleep. I couldn‟t come here, and Taeyang wanted me somewhere he could protect me. So he offered me his place to crash, but when we got there, I was too keyed up and couldn‟t sleep. I didn‟t want to worry you. You were so far away. I was tooshaken to realize you might be worried. I‟m not used to having anyone care"

"Sugar, anywhere, anytime, anyplace, you call me."

Jiyong wanted to growl the words at her. She was so damn independent, and it had probably grated her to even ask Taeyang for help, much less call someone halfway across the country.

"Anyway, Taeyang called the doctor again, asked if there was anything she could give me. Though she normally wouldn‟t do this for someone pregnant, she prescribed me a sedative because of my stress and fatigue."

"And you fell asleep." In Taeyang's bed.

She nodded. "I know I should have called. Everything happened so fast."

Of course she‟d been more worried about making sure the baby was okay than soothing his jangled nerves. It wasn‟t her fault he was a jealous, distrusting bastard.

"I‟m so sorry you went through all of that without me. That someone broke in the house. That you spotted. That I scared you." He held her close.

The water began to cool, and Jiyong reached out to turn it off. Leaning out of the tub, he grabbed her towel off the bar and wrapped it around her small frame, dabbing it across her face and removing the mascara, squeezing the long strands of her hair inside its folds.

She stood docile, almost unmoving. It wasn‟t like her, and he worried until it was a bleeding hole in his chest. Quickly, he threw off his wet clothes and left them in the bottom of the shower, then reached for his towel. He didn‟t bother drying, and his hair dripped thick streams of water down his back and shoulders. Instead, he wrapped the towel around his waist and helped her out of the shower.

Dara didn‟t say a word as he steadied her over to the bed. On the way, he grabbed their robes from the back of the door. He helped her into hers, belting it for her as if she were a child, then shrugged into his own. In silence, he toweled more moisture from her hair and studied her face. He still didn‟t like her expression. Somewhere past shock, it was almost blank.

Jiyong swallowed down his frustration. Whatever was going on with her was more than someone breaking into the house, more than the fact he‟d been angry enough to tie her to the bed. And he had to get her to open up, let it go, if he could. He pulled her into his lap, gratified that she went trustingly, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Dara, sugar. Tell me why I scared you." Her head jerked, jolted, until it finally became a full-blown shake.

"It‟s nothing."

"Please." He grabbed her tighter, then forced himself to let go, afraid he‟d scare her all over again.

"Someone hurt you." She closed her eyes. A tear ran down her nearly killed him.

"Someone raped you. I did something to remind you of that, right?"

"It was a long time ago. Just forget it. I have." Jiyong barely heard her whisper, but he knew it was a lie. She wasn‟t over it, and hearing the chocked admission heaped in denial crushed him.

"You were a teenager."

For a long minute, Dara said nothing, but stared at the wall on his right. Finally, she murmured,

"Fifteen."

Dear God. Not even old enough to drive. Barely more than a girl, and some asshole had forced his way into her body against her will? Rape was one of the ugliest of crimes, but against one so young?

Stomach turning, Jiyong hesitated. He had to keep asking questions that would allow her to reveal the ordeal a bit at a time. She wasn‟t ready to just spill her entire secret in one breath.

"Were you on a date?"

Her whole body tensed. "No." Then she gave a hysterical sob. "I wasn‟t allowed to date. My mother expected me to be a virgin when I got married."

He wasn‟t sure he wanted to hear this, truly. But he had to. Without this knowledge, Jiyong sensed that he couldn‟t truly understand his wife.

"And you were a virgin when this . . . ?" He tensed, swallowed, somehow hoping like hell she‟d say no.

But she nodded.

Jiyong had never been nauseous and angry at once. He wanted to smash this bastard‟s head, make him feel every bit of the pain Dara had clearly felt. But he kept it to himself. No sudden movements, no swearing, no making fists. Instead, he softly stroked her hair.

"A boy from school?" he ventured, his voice as gentle as he could make it.

Dara opened her mouth, then closed it. Hesitated. Then she rose to her feet. Jiyong wanted to keep her in his lap, safe and warm, where he could hold her and soothe her at the slightest tremor. But he didn‟t dare hold her down again.

She paced to the bathroom counter and braced herself on it. "Not . . . exactly. It‟s ancient history. Not really important."

Jiyong stood and slowly, giving her plenty of time to back away, approached her. Relief poured through his system when she didn‟t pull away, so he loosely placed his hands on her shoulders.

"I think it‟s very important. If you don‟t want to tell me, I understand. I haven‟t done a good job earning your trust today. Or for the past two months. I‟ve been slow to learn, but I want to do better—with your help. Please, I need to know what‟s going to frighten you so I don‟t do it again."

Dara bit her lip, sighed, looked at the ceiling as if praying for strength.

"N-no bondage. I can‟t . . ." She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. "I just can‟t."

Reality hit Jiyong in the face. What had Seungri said? He and Dara had realized quickly they weren‟t compatible. That made complete sense now.

"Not unless you‟re ready. If that day never comes, I‟ll understand." She gave him a jerky nod.

"Thank you."

Caressing her shoulders, Jiyong brought her against his body. She wanted to leave the story there. She‟d been fifteen, a virgin, and had been raped. But he sensed the story was only beginning.

"It wasn‟t a boy from school who hurt you?" Dara wrapped her arms around her middle and shook her head.

"I—I don‟t know if I can talk about this. I haven‟t told anyone this since the night after it

happened."

She‟d kept this to herself for fourteen years?

"You never told Seungri? Taeyang? A therapist?"

A sad smile crossed her face before it dissolved. "Seungri would have hunted him down, and that‟s the last thing I want. Taeyang . . . If I think my past is coming back to haunt me, I‟ll tell him. Never could afford a therapist until I worked through a lot of this on my own."

Why the hell wouldn‟t she want Seungri to hunt this asshole down? Personally, Jiyong was dying to. But she didn‟t want to hear that, and he couldn‟t jeopardize the conversation now that she was talking.

He hugged her back to his chest again. "Who did this to you, sugar?"

"DongHae." She shuddered, closed her eyes. "He‟s m-my stepbrother." Sick fury assailed him once again. Someone who was supposedly a part of her blended family had violated her trust and body? As much as hearing this killed him, he had to get the full story. But he didn‟t know what questions to ask from here.

Swallowing, he decided to simply wing it. "Your mother remarried?"

She nodded slowly. "When I was twelve."

Please, please tell me this creep didn't start taking advantage of her then.

"Did it start then? Touching? Fondling?"

"No. At first, he was my best friend. My mom remarried someone very wealthy. We moved from our middle-class neighborhood to . . . Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. I started a new school. I didn‟t know anyone. I was shy. I had a hard time adjusting."

And this prick DongHae had used her insecurity against her. "So he said he‟d be your friend?"

"Yes, and he made sure I had all the coolest friends in school. And he kept other guys away from me. When I was a freshman, there was a junior—one of DongHae‟s classmates—who decided he wanted to nail me at a party. He got me drunk and cornered me in the bathroom. DongHae and some of his other friends picked the lock and stormed in. DongHae beat this guy ruthlessly; then he carried me out. The next Monday, he told everyone we were dating and not to fuck with me. I thought he did it for my protection." She grunted in disbelief.

"He wanted you for himself." Jiyong had no trouble picturing that.

"Yeah. He‟d fly into a rage if he even thought anyone was looking at me, or if he suspected I liked someone. Shortly after that incident, he started sneaking into my room, said he wanted to make sure I was safe."

When she laughed bitterly, it twisted his stomach. Safe? The asshole had taken total advantage of her. How could he couch that as protecting her?

"Did he start kissing you or just attack?"

"Oh, there were kisses. Lots and lots of those, and I stupidly encouraged it, thinking that he really cared. That started when I was fourteen."

And this fucking rapist had been . . . what? Sixteen? Seventeen? Old enough to know that he was using a young, innocent girl.

"When did he start touching you?"

"Right before I turned fifteen. That summer." The way she sighed raggedly told Jiyong she needed to pause. He stood silently behind her, caressing her arms. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her they could stop here, talk later. Certainly, it would be better for his stomach and temper. But he knew getting her back to this place would be difficult and painful. Better to get it all out now.

"When did it become more?"

"I found out that he‟d been sleeping with this girl in his English class. I was . . . so stupid that I ever believed that he wanted to marry me someday. In my fairy-tale-minded head, I thought he was waiting for know, to grow up, so our first experience could be together. He told me that of course he had to fuck other girls. Our parents couldn‟t know about us yet. They‟d have freaked. So DongHae said he was keeping up appearances, letting his dad know he had a healthy interest in other females."

"Scumbag," Jiyong muttered. That was actually a lot milder than what he was thinking, but with that pronouncement, she‟d know he empathized but wouldn‟t alarm her with the violence of his fury.

"Then he said that all the waiting for me had been tough on him and that he‟d had to have other pussy or his human pressure valves got too tight." She scoffed. "So I told him to go away, that I didn‟t want him anymore. I stopped speaking to him for weeks."

"And he turned violent?"

"Yes. Just after my sophomore year started, he came to my room one night, tied me down, and said he felt cheated that he‟d waited around and hadn‟t gotten any. And he‟d so been looking forward to being my first. He‟d even gone so far as to plan this elaborate scheme to "pop my cherry" for my sweet sixteen."

Jiyong‟s nausea rose to new levels, as did his need to wipe this asshole off the face of the earth. He wasn‟t a violent man, but this . . . Unforgivable.

"I‟m sorry." He wanted to say so much more, but at this point, words would only placate him. Her damage had been done. He only hoped he could help heal her.

"Oh, God it hurt . . ." Her body trembled, seized up. The sobs started again. "H-he took me every way a man can take a woman." DongHae had raped her anally, too? Another blow to the restraint around Jiyong‟s rage. He grabbed the countertop on either side of her hips and looked at her bowed head in the mirror. Her haunted eyes, squeezed shut tight, dominated her tense, fragile face.

"Sugar, I‟m so sorry." He kissed the back of her head. He didn‟t trust himself to touch her gently in that moment. Too many violent urges running through his body.

"Wh-when it was over, I was sobbing and bleeding. He was angry and said he wondered why he‟d bothered. I was just another whore after all." Fists clenched, she drew in a shuddering breath.

"I . . . I wanted to kill him." Jiyong understood that feeling well.

"In retrospect, I shouldn‟t have been surprised by DongHae‟s behavior. All the signs were there."

"My God, you shouldn‟t have had to know the signs at that age. You told your parents, right?"

Her body wilted then, as if she had no more fight. "I told my mother." Biting back the urge to prompt her, Jiyong waited while she closed her eyes, gathered her courage.

"She didn‟t believe me."

"What the hell? Certainly she could see . . . There was evidence." Dara shook her head.

"I was stupid. I panicked and cleaned up. Today, I‟d have marched myself down to the hospital and demanded a rape kit and prosecuted the son of a bitch. But at fifteen, all I could think about was getting caught."

"The day after it happened, DongHae was vile to me at school, told everyone he‟d nailed me. He called me his convenient pussy and said he was going to get more that night. I was terrified." Just when Jiyong thought this prick couldn‟t get any lower, Dara revealed another fact about her stepbrother that enraged him all over again.

"So after dinner, I pulled my mom aside and told her what had happened. She accused me of trying to ruin her life. I was just being petulant because DongHae liked girls his age and lying because I resented her happiness." Dara sniffed, pressed her lips together.

Having your own mother stab you in the back the day after suffering the worst physical and emotional trauma of your life? Jiyong couldn‟t even imagine the anguish . . . And knowing that Dara had never resolved this between her and her mother? No wonder the woman‟s death had been confusing for her.

"Your mother‟s betrayal hurt worst of all." It wasn‟t a question; he knew.

She stared at the marble countertop and nodded.

"It‟s not your fault; none of this was. Your mother should have stood beside you. She was supposed to protect you. I understand why you both loved and hated her."

Dara whipped her gaze over her shoulder, clearly surprised that he‟d figured that out.

"Yeah. But after she married my stepfather, she became a different person. Absorbed in him. And I knew he‟d be no help. DongHae could do no wrong in his eyes. He probably would have applauded his son‟s behavior. He was a misogynist who objectified all women."

And DongHae followed in his father‟s footsteps. Jiyong didn‟t understand either the point of view or the horrific lapse in parenting. But he could tell from Dara‟s demeanor that she still had more to tell.

"After I talked to my mom, it was late. Near bedtime. I knew DongHae would come to my room again. I asked to spend the night at a friend‟s house, but Mom said no. I packed a bag, took the hundred bucks I had in a drawer, and snuck out my window."

"Oh, dear God. Where did you go?"

"At first to a friend‟s house, but when my mom called in the middle of the night looking for me, saying I‟d run away, her parents drove me home and told me not to come back. My stepfather had apparently threatened them with criminal and civil action. He was a big-time lawyer.I went home that night. My mom grounded me and sent me to my room. The only saving grace was that everyone was awake, and DongHae couldn‟t sneak into my room. The next day, instead of going to school, I ran away again. This time, I made it as far as Ulsan."

Horror zipped through Jiyong. "Did you know anyone there?"

She shook her head. "It was only a couple dozen miles from home, but it might as well have been a world away."

A fifteen-year-old girl in Ulsan? Alone? She would have been preyed upon, unable to support herself unless—Jiyong didn‟t even want to consider how she‟d eaten and kept a roof over her head.

"You looked for a job," he guessed.

"Fast-food places wouldn‟t hire me until I was sixteen, and even then, I had to have parental consent. Sixteen was still nine months away, and even if I could ask my parents, they would never have approved." Dara gripped the counter tighter. "You can guess what happened next."

Oh, no. That couldn't be. "Sugar . . ."

She bit her lip, then spoke quickly, without inflection.

"The first few times were hard. I closed my eyes a lot and pretended I was someplace else. Thank God none of the men were creepy or dangerous. Just run-of-the-mill johns looking to get laid."

Jiyong was speechless. Fifteen and reduced to prostitution because her family had hurt her in every way possible. Forced to fend for herself because they were too selfish and had all but abandoned her.

A million things clicked into place: the reason she was so touchy about people assuming she was a whore, the reason she insisted that the girls who work for her better themselves, the reason she hated to rely on others unless forced, the reason she wasn‟t wound up about being nude in public.

She‟d learned early that her body was a commodity and that only educating herself would improve her lot. She‟d clearly also figured out that her self-worth had nothing to do with her career, but her inner core.

In his head, Jiyong thought he‟d known that her "profession" hadn‟t fazed her . . . but he hadn‟t behaved that way. It had been a big deal to him. Now it seemed so stupid. He‟d bite his tongue off before he ever said anything that made her feel like less than a lady again.

"Did you ever go home?" he asked quietly.

"I thought about it. The first Christmas without family was hard. I spent it alone in an alley with a candy bar and a campfire, hoping that no one would attack me in my sleep. But the week before, I‟d seen DongHae. He came looking for me, flashing my picture around and telling all the other girls that my mom wanted me back for the holidays. Most protected me and played dumb, but one of the older women thought she could save me by snitching. I got away with, maybe, three minutes to spare."

"And since DongHae knew where you were, you couldn‟t stay."

"I had some money saved up. I bought a ticket, told the woman behind the counter I wanted to go someplace warm. DongHae always made fun of Jeju people, called them stupid rednecks. So I thought heading toJeju would be a good idea."

She shrugged. "Ticket brought me here. A woman I talked to for part of the trip promised that stripping was better and nearly as lucrative as. . ." She blew out a breath. "I got a fake ID with a fake name to blend in."

"Dara isn‟t your name?" She was so Dara to Jiyong. He couldn‟t imagine calling her something else.

"It‟s my nickname. My real name is Sandara."

It didn‟t suit her at all. Sandara was a girl. This woman before him was tough, a survivor, worthy of a name with a big, sexy sound like Dara. She astounded Jiyong with her strength, her resilience, her never-say-die attitude. She‟d walked through hell and fire, and emerged on the other side a woman of steel. As much as he ached for what she‟d endured, he was proud of her.

"Then I knocked on CLUB KISS door," she said. "It was called something else then, but Kiko, while a bitch, saved my life. She let me live at the club until I got on my feet, worked around my school schedule when I started studying for my GED. Her boys kept the locals from hitting on me too much. I kinda . . . grew up there." She shrugged. "I never went home again until my mother‟s funeral. I saw DongHae—from a distance. He didn‟t see me, thank God. And to this day, he still doesn‟t know what became of me. If he had any clue, I don‟t know what he would do."

Jiyong knew what he‟d like to do to the asshole, but Dara needed his understanding and comfort now, not his fury. He‟d look up this prick soon and take him down a peg or twenty, but this moment was about his wife. Guilt crept in that his behavior had caused her grief and forced her to spill her secrets to him. On the other hand, getting her story out in the open, him hearing it, was perhaps one of the best things that could have happened to them.

"I‟m so sorry I upset you. Accused you. Scared you."

And let Taeyang's smug face dig under my skin when he answered the door.

In retrospect, Jiyong knew her bouncer/bodyguard was in love with her and probably enjoyed watching him draw the worst conclusions, driving a wedge into Dara‟s new marriage. He didn‟t respect the guy for it . . . but he understood.

She bowed her head. "The funny thing about you accusing me of sleeping around? Until you, I never really enjoyed sex. I mean, at first it did nothing but bring up bad memories. When I got older and figured out that it wasn‟t my fault and DongHae was nothing but slime, I tried to date, tried to have sex. It just always seemed . . . uncomfortable and embarrassing. You actually cared about my experience."

She grimaced. "Until you, I never had an orgasm that wasn‟t solo. Until you, I never understood how sex connected people."

Seriously? Jiyong was stunned silent. She‟d never enjoyed the lush, sensual intimacies of sex until him? Then again, how could she with such terrible memories attached? And where did Taeyang fit into this picture? Had she slept with him as some form of payment? No, she wouldn‟t do that anymore. So, had Taeyang been an experiment? Clearly, she trusted the man or she wouldn‟t have taken a sleeping pill and fallen into his bed. Did some part of her love the bouncer? Jiyong didn‟t know. He did know that, despite her protestations that she‟d never had sex with the man, Taeyang had to have fathered Dara‟s coming child. Whatever reason she had for denying that fact they‟d tackle later.

Jiyong wrapped his arms around his wife, who relaxed against him, leaning back into his body. Safe, treasured, his. At least in part. At least for now.

He still had to figure out who was terrorizing her. For a while, he‟d assumed it was Taeyang, but . . . the man had had a thousand opportunities to hurt Dara today. Instead, he‟d taken her to the doctor, given up his own bed. Granted, he hadn‟t called her husband, but since he wanted her for himself, why would he?JaeJoong had been in the county jail when the house had been broken into. Who did that leave? Primpton? Had the threatening vandalism been his work? Or someone else entirely?

Clutching his wife, Jiyong lifted Dara against him, carrying her to the bed. He set her gently on the sheets.

"Rest."

She grabbed his arms. "Stay with me."

Hope surged. The fact she wanted him near her was a good sign. With a nod, Jiyong lowered himself to the bed, stretching out beside her, stroking her damp hair. Their gazes met. Telling this story had stripped her soul down to its core and left her bare. Every bit of that pain and fear was in her blue eyes.

He ached to make all that go away.

"Jiyong?" Dara breathed, her platinum hair floating around her shoulders like a temptress. But looking at her sweet oval face, rosy cheeks, and swollen, impossibly blue eyes only reminded him of the girl with the scarred heart that lay underneath that temptress.

"I‟m here. Always here for you," he vowed.

"Touch me. Please." She shook as she unbelted her robe. "Be with me"

Her request shocked him. He wanted to, God knew. Her words filled him with joy, made his cock weep with need. But . . .

"Sugar, you‟ve been through a lot tonight. I don‟t think now is the best time—"

"It is." She shrugged her robe off, revealing every bit of her gorgeous golden skin. "I have to replace the memories of DongHae with something wonderful. With you."

How could he say no to wiping away her worst memories? How could he fight something he wanted so damn badly? Jiyong rose up on all fours over her, giving her plenty of space to move if she needed, and kissed her belly.

"Are you sure?" Dara reached up, curled her arms around his neck, and brought his mouth down to hers for a lingering, desperate kiss that pleaded.

Unnecessary. She‟d had him at "Touch me. "

"Completely sure."

Jiyong tore off his robe and lowered himself over her, cradling himself between her thighs, taking hold of her hips. He rained kisses over her cheeks, her neck, the swells of her breasts, and she softened in his arms. For long minutes, he brushed his palms over her skin, and finally, she sighed.

Needing to know she was ready for him, Jiyong reached between them and massaged her clit. She drew in a sweet, shuddering breath, and desire gripped him mercilessly.

Cock in hand, he aligned their bodies. "Tell me if I hurt you. Scare you. I never want to do that again."

She swallowed, her solemn blue gaze fastened on him, and Jiyong felt her pain and need slice clear through to his heart.

"I will, but you won‟t. Just . . . be with me."

The fact she wanted him anywhere near her now made him feel honored. She‟d given him a gift. And he intended to treasure it—and her. She linked their fingers together. The connection was electric and shuddered down his spine. Dara‟s desire to be closer to him touched him deep, stripping away his anger. Having her ask for him, surrender to him, was so much sweeter than tying her to the bed like a caveman. He‟d regret that forever and hoped to make it up to her now.

Slowly, Jiyong began to push inside her. He stopped, retreated, eased in again—a soft glide, a slow dance. As always, she burned him. Jiyong squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on making this tender for her, making this good.

With every inch he submerged into the scalding clasp of her body, she seared him, especially when Dara braced her feet on the mattress and raised her hips up to meet him.

"Jiyong. Yes! "

Damn it. With two words, she nearly unraveled his self-control. She felt so good that it hurt, boiled his blood. As need rocketed, he began to sweat. Jiyong tried to breathe deep, re-engage his brain. But he needed her touch, needed to know that despite all that had happened today, she was still his.

Jiyong drew back, then thrust forward to the hilt. "You feel so perfect around me. I want to make you feel good, too."

Dara didn‟t reply, just pressed her mouth to his for a slow, blistering kiss. He tasted her need, her healing. As difficult as hearing about DongHae had been for him, Jiyong would do it a thousand times over if it would ease her pain and allow her to feel closer to him.

He pulled back, her body clinging to him. Unable to resist her sweet mouth, he kissed her again, deeper, slower, in rhythm with his tightened her arms around his neck. Jiyong swallowed as he thrust his fingers into her hair, his thumb tracing her jaw. Her eyes were closed in impending bliss and she looked beautiful.

"Dara," his whispered, his voice husky.

Slowly, her eyes fluttered open, revealing dilated pupils, and she met his stare. Satisfaction hummed inside him. Now he knew that she was utterly aware of who was deep inside her. His heart jumped as he drove home in one smooth stroke. She gasped, tightening her slick walls around him.

"Thank you for trusting me with your story," he whispered. "Your body." Dara nodded, her gaze never wavering as tears filled her eyes. Her trust and the exquisite feel of her were denting his self-control. He had to find the will, make this about healing her, not about stroking his possessive instinct. Frightening her was the last thing he wanted.

Lowering his hands to her hips, he tilted her toward him and eased into her again. Pleasure transformed her expression. Her mouth gaped open, eyes going wide.

"Come for me."

"Y-yes."

The catch in her voice drove him deeper inside her. He drowned in her blue eyes and dark lashes. He didn‟t blink; he didn‟t want to miss a moment between them. Suddenly, her body tightened, and she whimpered.

"Jiyong!" Dara dug her nails into his shoulders.

He held the pace steady, sweat beading across his body. Seconds later she clamped down on him and cried out, releasing. Satisfaction roared through him as she keened out her pleasure.

His pleasure spiraled nearly beyond his control as her face revealed her bliss. And trust. She trusted him to care for her. Nothing was more gorgeous or humbling.

He closed his eyes, trying to get a grip, but need shut down his for self-control was a waste of time. And if he was going over, he wanted to take her with him again.

With that in mind, he plied her with one unrelenting stroke after another and began to rub her clit.

"Jiyong!" She could barely find her breath now. "I can‟t—"

"You can. For me."

In the next moment, she clamped down on him again, her explosion of pleasure mere moments away. And still something drove him.

"Who‟s deep inside you?" he demanded.

"You are, Jiyong."

"That‟s right. Always." And her body told him she was seconds from orgasm. "Who is making you come?"

"Jiyong!"

She bucked and screamed beneath him, and he swore he was even deeper inside her than before.

Damn, it still wasn‟t enough. But his control was fraying, his body screaming for release.

As he pushed back inside her swollen sex with a steady, urgent stroke, Jiyong could never remember feeling closer to any woman, ever. Dara rose up to meet him. Her stare locked with his. Her growing pleasure and rising need killed the last of his self-control. Sweat broke out across his back, his forehead, as he pushed his way inside her again. Then she was chanting his name and climaxing so hard, he could barely move. And clinging to him in every way possible. Jiyong fell deep into her as the last of his resistance gave way, and he soared into a pleasure so intense, it rattled his core, then remade him, cementing his love for her.

Slowly, their breathing recovered, and Jiyong wrapped her up in his arms, tangling his legs with hers. In that moment, he felt peace with her. With how far they‟d come together. He only hoped that all of the difficulty was behind them.

"Feel better?" he asked softly.

She bit her lip, hesitating. "Do you wish you hadn‟t married me? I mean, after everything I told you . . ."

"Don‟t ever think that I‟d judge you for what you had to do to survive. As much as I hate what you went through, I‟m incredibly proud of who you‟ve become."

Her smile was as bright as a breaking dawn, and Jiyong‟s heart broke all over again.

"Are you going to sell the club?" he whispered.

He hadn‟t even finished asking the question when she began shaking her head.

"Too many memories. Too many other people who might let the wrong things happen under its roof. I‟ll turn over management to InYoung, if she wants the job. But I‟m moving forward in life, hoping that the restaurant allows me a fresh start."

It would. Jiyong would see to that. He had the talent, connections, and influence.

He kissed her forehead. "Close your eyes."

She shook her head. "Not yet. Since it seems to be the night for truth, why don‟t you tell me your secret?"