by Snow, Jenika
“You’re exactly who you’re supposed to be,” she said softly.
He looked at the horizon, watched the rise and fall of the waves. He looked at Brea and saw the tears fall down her cheeks. Here was this incredible woman, comforting him, listening to him, crying for him.
He brushed those droplets away, smiling down at her. He didn’t want Brea being sad.
“I wish my story ended at that.” How he wished that were the truth. There was a selfish part of him that didn’t want to tell her the rest because he knew she might hate him, might be just as disgusted with him as he was with himself.
“I’m the last person who would ever judge you, Adrian.”
He wanted to believe that desperately, but once he told her the last part, the worst part of who he really was, he would know for sure if she truly meant that. “It was months later when I found him, the man who killed Addie. He was already liquored up at a bar at ten in the morning.” He found his resolve, looked her in the eyes, and told her the truth. “I beat him within an inch of his miserable, drunken life.” He stopped, giving her a moment to let what he’d just said sink in. There was no remorse for what he’d done. “I wouldn’t have stopped until he was dead, but the police came before I had the pleasure of finishing him off.” Brea’s eyes had grown slightly wider at his admission.
“I went to prison for two years for it. That man will no longer walk and will be blind out of one eye for the rest of his fucking life.” He took a deep, stuttering breath and hit the nail on the head, driving it home. “To this day I wish they wouldn’t have stopped me. To this day I wish I would have fucking killed him.”
9
The apathetic expression covering Adrian’s face was like nothing she’d ever seen. When he told her his story, his voice had gotten deeper, harsher, deadlier. Her skin had tightened as he explained the need to kill the man that had taken everything from him. Maybe he wanted her to hate him, to look at him with fear.
That wouldn’t happen.
Maybe she didn’t agree with his need to kill a man, because she could never see herself taking a life, but then again, she’d never lost something as monumental as he had.
The silence that stretched between them was powerful. He’d opened up to her, shared a part of his life that had forever changed him. There were no more questions about whether or not she should share her past with him. Did he really think she would just turn her back on him because he admitted what he clearly thought was his worst?
She would just have to prove to him that she didn’t run easily, not anymore, not when it came to him.
Now didn’t seem like the right time to tell her story, though. Right now she wanted to show him how much she’d grown to care for him. Maybe it was the look in her eyes, or maybe he felt the same bone-deep need as well, because he took her hand, kissed it softly, and held it over his heart.
“Adrian.” One step toward him and her chest was against his, their twined hands blocked in the cage their bodies created. She wanted to take his pain away, to give him a new memory, to give him many more. “Let’s go.” She needed him. Brea needed to show him that he was alive, that he was wanted … that he wasn’t a monster.
Both of their pains were tangible, sparking like a wildfire between them, trying to consume them. It couldn’t take them over. She wanted to be as close to him as she could, to wash away the heartbreaking look on his face.
He watched her for several long moments, and she could see his throat working as he swallowed. They walked back to his truck, and he helped her into the passenger seat. Hands lingering on her waist, their gazes held for a moment, a silent communication passing between them.
“I can’t believe you aren’t looking at me with disgust,” he said softly, shock in his voice.
“Never.”
He closed the door and made his way around the truck, climbed into the driver’s seat, and cranked the engine. But he didn’t drive right away. The silence caved in around them, and she reached out to take his hand in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“It’s okay,” she said.
Five minutes later he pulled into a seaside B and B and turned the truck off. He stared at the ocean for a long time, not speaking, not moving. Was he having second thoughts? Was he thinking about his past, letting it slowly consume this moment? Maybe he wasn’t ready. Maybe she wasn’t ready. Her body was most definitely primed for him, but maybe this was just all too much for him.
Nothing had to happen but two people sharing comfort, talking, being close.
“Adrian.” When he finally tore his gaze from the ocean and stared at her with blue eyes that seemed to match the rolling waves, she knew at that moment that she’d lost her heart to him. She loved him. So much. Fear and happiness slammed into her at the revelation.
His hand slid across the seat and took hers, intertwining their fingers together. “Come inside with me. Be with me, Brea.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later Adrian was pushing open the door to their ocean-view room. A shared room, with one bed … the space very intimate. When she’d suggested being with him, his heart had literally stopped. She hadn’t come right out and said it, but the look in her eyes had told him what she wanted.
It was what he wanted as well.
To say she hadn’t run from him, told him to take her back, that he was a monster, had him wanting to sink to his knees and thank whoever looked down on him. He was one lucky bastard.
The door shut behind them with a soft click, and then silence descended. Adrian stayed by the door, watching as she walked around the room, touching the dresser, the small table and chair, and then finally stopping in front of the sliding glass doors that led right out onto the beach.
The urge to go to her, to touch her was so strong he had to force himself to allow her this space, this time to explore and not smother her. But the fact she’d stayed by him, let him unload on her, tell her about his past, had his love for her growing.
It didn’t matter if all they did was talk and hold each other. He’d sleep on top of the covers in a snowsuit if it put her at ease.
He’d told her everything, and the silent strength she’d given him just by listening, by not judging him had opened his heart in more than one way.
“When I was younger, my dad used to take me down to this small fishing hole behind our house. I hated going down there because he’d make me bait the hooks and I’d have to take the worms and stab them through.” The smile that touched her lips was reflected in the glass of the window. “We’d stay out there for hours, not saying one word because he said we’d scare all the fish away.”
Adrian moved the steps it took to get to her and stood behind her, not touching her but desperately wanting to. He wanted to ask about her family, where they were, if they were still close. But he let her lead.
“We’d bring our catch home, and I’d watch my mom scale the fish and gut them. The house would smell so bad after it was all said and done, but I always looked forward to those nights because everyone was smiling and laughing. Everyone was together.” She brought her hands up and stared at them as if remembering that particular memory, as if seeing herself baiting those hooks. Her once happy smile turned sad and distant. “My mother died a year later from breast cancer. My father couldn’t handle his grief. He drank and grew distant.”
Was this the past she kept so tightly guarded? He was afraid to touch her. Afraid she would close herself off.
“At the time I hated those fish nights so much. I hated eating it.” She chuckled softly. “But now, after it all, I miss them so much, miss the stench of guts and murky water.”
The sadness in her voice was evident, but he could see in her reflection that she wasn’t crying. Adrian wrapped his arms around her, and he sighed when she leaned back into him.
“My father died of a heart attack a year later, but I believe it was from a broken heart. He loved my mother so much that when she died, he couldn’t live without her, not even for h
is only daughter.” Tears started making their way down her cheeks, and he gripped her tighter.
What could he even say to make her tears stop?
“I sold their house, moved out of the town I grew up in, and started going to college. I just wanted to start over, to forget my past, to forget that I didn’t have anyone in the world. That’s where I met Cameron. He was eight years older than me and working on his doctorate in psychology. He said all the right things, did all the right things.” Voice dropping lower, she practically whispered, “He made me feel not so alone. He loved me.”
She turned around and gave him a sad smile. His hand was now encased in her much smaller, softer one. Brea led them over to the bed and pulled him down to sit next to her. Silence surrounded them, and he used his finger under her chin to bring her face up.
“You don’t have to do this, Brea. You don’t have to explain anything.” He wanted to know about her, wanted to let her get it all out, but he could tell how hard this was for her, and that ate at him.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I want to tell you. I need to tell you so you understand exactly why I am the way I am. I need you to know what you’re getting yourself into when it comes to being with me.” They stayed silent for another moment before Brea continued. “The first few years were great. He was considerate of my situation, compassionate, and listened to me when I’d had a hard day. When he graduated with his PhD, we moved in together. I’d just graduated myself with a degree in early childhood education and wanted to continue on for my master’s, but Cameron convinced me to take a year off. To this day I regret listening to him. That was the moment everything changed between us.” The unspoken words hung between them as she pulled her hands from his tight clasp and put them in her lap.
He felt his anger grow, knowing where this was headed.
“There were small warning signs that, when I look back, I see, but I was so blinded by having something in my life, by not being alone anymore. I can look back and know what I felt for him wasn’t love at all. It was that companionship, that fact that he made me feel something more than the desolation I’d lived with.” She rubbed her palms on her thighs and glanced down at the movement. “That first time he—” She locked her lips and cleared her throat. “That first time he hit me, the world came out from underneath my feet.”
Blind fury encompassed Adrian. After a moment he realized she was watching him with wide eyes. He could only imagine what he looked like.
Standing, he paced in front of her. An itch had started under his skin, and he suddenly felt very volatile.
“Adrian.”
He stopped and looked at her. Taking a deep breath, he made himself calm down.
“Please, sit down. I’m not telling you this to upset you. I want you to hear everything.” When he was sitting beside her again, she continued, “I wish I could say it only happened that one time, that I was a stronger person and was smart enough to leave, but I’d be lying.” Her tear-filled gaze cut across to him, and he didn’t hold back the need to wipe them away. “The abuse only escalated from there.” Adrian swallowed hard. “The abuse didn’t stop until I finally found the courage to leave, until I knew I couldn’t survive like this, literally or figuratively. I knew he’d kill me if I stayed.” She looked at him again, this clear composure suddenly on her face. “And so that’s what you’re getting yourself into with me. I’m on the run, and I know he’ll find me sooner or later.”
10
The air left Adrian in a quick rush. Not even when he was hit while in the cage did he become so breathless. This strong woman before him was a fucking survivor. Pain in his palms alerted him to the fact that his hands were clenched so tightly his nails were digging into his skin. Easing up on his death grip, he ran his hand over his hair.
“Fuck, Brea.” The words tumbled out of him, but he hadn’t meant to say them aloud. “There wasn’t anyone you could have talked to about it? Gone to for help?” The idea that she’d been all alone, suffering through that kind of abuse made him sick.
A small shake of her head answered his question. “I was a loner. Even after four years in college, I hadn’t made any real friends. Cameron was always there, spending time with me, keeping my attention. He didn’t make me feel lonely for one second.”
So the prick had been isolating her.
“Now that I’m away from him, I can see what he’d been doing. Slowly he’d been making me dependent on him.” A soft sniffle came from her. “I’m an idiot. I can admit that now that I look back and see how I let my life be controlled. I was just so damn desperate for someone to be there, to love me.”
God, he wanted to tell her he loved her, that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her ever again. The realization that he’d give his life to her—for her—shocked him to his core. They might not have known each other for that long, but there it was. He loved this girl with a passion that rivaled anything in his former life.
“I stayed in that toxic relationship for far too long. My medical file is as thick as the dictionary, and although I know the doctors and nurses suspected my bruises, broken bones, and numerous concussions were more than just clumsiness, I never had the strength to confide in anyone. Besides, it was my word against his, and Cameron had become a very renowned psychologist.”
“You’re so strong, Brea. You finally left him, and that’s all that matters.”
Her head was shaking before he finished. “No. Don’t you see how weak I am, Adrian? Cameron was never going to let me leave. The only reason I’m away from him, alive, is because he went to a convention out of town. I’d come down with something and was held up for days in bed. Maybe it was fate that I wasn’t able to go with him. He was a very jealous man, so jealous that I wasn’t allowed to speak to the opposite sex in any capacity. I was never to be away from his side for long periods. He was just always there, so I knew when he left town, I had to go because there wouldn’t be another time.”
The look of conviction in her eyes made her seem like a warrior. She was his strong little warrior, and he loved her even more for it.
She. Was. His.
“So, that’s my story. I left him less than a year ago with not even a letter telling him where I was going or why. I’m not who you think I am, Adrian. I had to change my last name, move from city to city because Cameron won’t give up, I know it. The last time he found me, right before I moved here, was quite possibly the most frightening experience of my life, even with all the abuse. The look in his eyes, the sound of his voice.” Her small body shook.
Adrian held her tighter. “I won’t let anyone hurt you again. I promise.”
She buried her face in his chest, breathing roughly, clutching him like a lifeline.
“I wish that were true, Adrian. The only reason I was able to escape the last time was because I was in public and saw him before he saw me.” She didn’t give him time to process what she’d said, because in the next moment her mouth was latched on to his, kissing him frantically.
The taste of her tears mixed with her urgent passion had him instantly aroused. The feel of her warm, lush body pressed against him had his cock growing hard, his balls drawing tight.
“Brea, we don’t have to do this.” He cupped her cheeks in his hands and brought her face up so she was staring at him. “I want you, more than anything, but everything you just told me has made you desperate to forget.” He ran his thumbs methodically over the delicate bones under her creamy flesh. “You’ll regret our first time. I couldn’t bear that, baby.”
She shook her head. “I want this. I need it, and not because we bared our souls to each other. I need you because I…because I care about you so much, more than anyone or anything.” Fat tears streamed down her cheeks, and damn it if he couldn’t give her what she wanted.
The pain that radiated from her was too much to ignore. It took him a moment of just staring at her, but he couldn’t let her feel like this, not when he had the power to take it away. To make her feel better.
Hands spearing into the long, silky blonde strands of her hair, he pulled her closer. Their tongues moved together, sliding, slipping, pressing as one until all he could think about was doing the same thing between her thighs. He knew she’d taste so good, feel so soft against him.
“I’m sorry, Brea. I’m so sorry about everything.” It was all he could say between kisses.
“I need you. I need this,” she whispered.
He’d give himself to her tenfold. He’d give her everything he was until there wasn’t anything left.
11
Adrian used his big body to press her against the mattress. The hardness of his muscles made her feel wholly feminine. Anxiety threatened to consume her, but she refused to let it win. He wasn’t Cameron, and he wasn’t taking this from her. She was giving herself over to the man she’d fallen in love with, the man who gave her so much more than he’d ever know.
The movement of his body against hers wasn’t forceful, wasn’t demanding. He broke the kiss, trailing his lips along the side of her jaw and down to the erogenous spot right below her ear.
“So good, Brea. You feel so good beneath me.”
And he felt so good on top of her. Her legs spread on their own to accept the width of his hips between them. The hard length of his arousal pressed against her panties, moving the material against her saturated flesh. She was so wet for him, so ready to take him into her body.
The bottom of her dress was pushed obscenely up to her waist, showing her lower half and panty-covered mound, if he was inclined to take a look himself. Mouth hot and wet, Adrian continued kissing her. Their hips started moving as if they had a mind of their own, a mindless rubbing and thrusting against each other that made her body hotter with need. Could he tell how wet she was through his jeans?