Out of Mind Read Online Free Page A

End of story. It wouldn’t help me. Wouldn’t fix me. They’d just tell me to pop some pills and call me healed. Bullshit. I would do it my way, in my own time. “I’m already recovering.”
    She pursed her lips. “I’m not talking about the visible injuries, Finn.”
    “Yeah, well, they are the only ones that matter, as far as I’m concerned.” I hauled her closer. “Can you ever want me again, even with how scarred I am now?”
    She shook her head, and for a second my worst nightmare came to life. “Finn, I never stopped wanting you, and I never will.” She rested her hands on my chest, and I almost collapsed from the relief surging through me. “So how can I possibly answer if I’d ever want you again?”
    I tried to believe that. Tried to be optimistic like I’d been before I went overseas and almost got blown to pieces like the rest of my buddies. But she had the benefit of not seeing inside my head. She didn’t know just how far gone I was—so she was still blissfully optimistic. Her world still had rainbows and butterflies and all that shit.
    But me? I saw it all, and part of me thought it might be better for her if I walked away. But we’d promised to stay with each other. Promised no more running or lies.
    Her eyes lowered, and her stare lingered over my abs before dipping even lower. Good. She could see what I fucking wanted right now— her . I wanted to remind her why she was with me, since she probably couldn’t see it anymore. Not when she looked at my wounds.
    All she saw was what I used to be.
    She hesitated. “Finn, I don’t know if you’re ready yet…”
    “Why wouldn’t I be ready?” I stepped closer, and she tilted her face up toward mine. Her pupils flared, and she bit down on her lower lip again. “I’ve been ready since I met you.”
    Her mouth twitched into a reluctant smile. “You know what I mean. With people recovering from trauma, sex can be a trigger. It can make things worse. I don’t want to make you suffer—”
    “The only way I’ll suffer,” I cupped her face with my good hand, my thumb under her jawline, “is if you say no. So don’t say no.”
    Part of me needed to know she still wanted me, scars and all. She might be right, and this might not be good for my head, but fuck it. I needed it. I needed her .

    Carrie

    I knew this wasn’t a good idea. But when he looked down at me like that, all blue eyes and soft words, I couldn’t stop myself from giving him what he wanted—even if it wasn’t what he needed . The two didn’t always go hand in hand, did they?
    Reaching up on tiptoe, I curled my hands around his neck and kissed him, keeping it light and easy. I didn’t want to scare him off or be too pushy. I didn’t need to worry, I guess. He backed me across the room, his breath coming fast, his hand flexing on my chin. I knew he was frustrated with feeling helpless and broken, and I wished I could help him.
    Wished he would let me help him.
    I spun him so his back was toward the bed and pushed him gently onto it. Good thing he’d locked the door. As long as we were quiet, no one should know what we were up to. I straddled him, skimmed my hands up under his shirt, and sighed with satisfaction even as it bugged me that he was wearing a shirt. He never used to sleep with a shirt on. Was he hiding his wounds from himself, too? It seemed that way.
    I pulled back and studied him. His eyes were shut, and his cheeks flushed. He looked so freaking hot like this. Turned on and ready for me. All mine. “Are you sure you’re ready?”
    He smoothed my hair off my face. “Of course I’m sure.”
    “Okay.” I reached for the bedside light, but he snatched my hand before I could turn it on. “What? What is it?”
    “No lights,” he rasped, his fingers tightening on mine. “I like it like this.”
    “Finn…” I swallowed hard. “You don’t need to hide from me.”
    “I’m not. I don’t want your dad to know.” He let go of my hand and hauled me