by M. Leighton
When I’ve managed to wiggle us toward the foot of the bed, a little closer to a possible escape, Ronnie seems to sense the direction I’m thinking and he runs a hand beneath me to push us up farther onto the bed. This time he stretches out full-length on top of me, trapping my legs between his as he rolls his top half away. For a second, his face is illuminated by the flickering torches and I see a mad desire in his eyes. That’s when true fear blazes through me. In my gut, I realize that he’s not going to take no for an answer.
“Ronnie, I mean it. Get off me right now,” I hiss.
“If only your body agreed with what that filthy little mouth is saying,” he says with a growling laugh, taking both of my wrists and jerking my arms above my head. His hands are so big, he subdues them both in one of his, leaving the other free to roam over my torso and follow along with his mouth.
My shirt has ridden up my abdomen, leaving my midriff bare. He rubs his palm over the skin and then shoves it up under my shirt, easily pushing my bra up with it. I feel him turn his hand and, with a yank, snap the front closure open, exposing me to the cool night air.
I catch and hold my breath, the reality of my situation momentarily paralyzing me. He finds my right breast immediately, kneading and pinching painfully. It’s the way that he attacks my naked flesh, like a ravenous dog, that puts me into motion.
Jerking, kicking and twisting every muscle in my body at the same time, I fight Ronnie with all the fight that I can find. I unearth a panicked scream somewhere from the bottom of my burning lungs just before he grabs a handful of my shirt and rips it from me in one sharp wrench.
I don’t even try to cover myself with my hands. I flutter them around, trying to keep them from being recaptured. When I find his face, I sink my fingernails into Ronnie’s temples. I dig in and pull, raking my nails down and tearing his skin as I go. Ronnie howls in pain and, even in the dark, I see the streaks of blood appear on either side of his face.
“You bitch! That’s too rough!”
Ronnie dips his head and bites my chest. I push at his shoulders and cry out in panic, tears of pain and fear streaming from the corners of my eyes to wet the hair at my temples.
Ronnie leans back, clamping his thighs around mine as he works the button and zipper of my jeans, opening them despite my thrashing. When he stills, so do I. I don’t know why he suddenly stopped, but I’m prepared to fight like a hellcat when he moves off my legs.
“Damn, what happened to you?” he asks, the sneer of disgust plainly visible on his shadowed face. The swift change takes me by surprise, but only for a second. Then it registers. I don’t have to ask what he means; I already know. My scars. “Lucky for you, you’re still hot enough to make this worth my while.”
I feel the grip of his thighs lessen ever so slightly. This is my chance. My muscles are tight with readiness. I’m going to kick out with all my might, aiming right for his balls, the instant I can get my legs free.
They loosen a bit more, and then suddenly I’m free. Aiming for his crotch, I squeeze my eyes shut and lash out with my feet as hard as I can. Strangely, they meet nothing but air.
Although I’m confused, I don’t waste valuable time wondering what happened or looking around for Ronnie. I roll quickly to one side and scramble to my feet, running wildly in the opposite direction of the cabana. I have no intention of stopping, maybe ever, until I hear a voice. A familiar voice. A voice that’s not Ronnie’s.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, you piece of shit?”
I whip my head back around, my wide, terrified pupils immediately focusing on Rogan’s tall, hulking form hovering over a curled body. It’s Ronnie, lying in the fetal position on the ground at Rogan’s feet. He’s holding his stomach.
Rogan bends, taking a handful of Ronnie’s thatch of red hair and holding his head still while he brings his fist down. I hear the sickening crunch of bone just as blood spurts from Ronnie’s nose. Rogan releases his head, letting it bounce against the sparse field of grass beneath him.
“Make him stop, Katie. Tell him to stop,” Ronnie pleads in a pained, desperate voice muffled by the hands he’s holding up to his face.
I don’t tell him that I have no intention of doing any such thing. But I don’t need to. At the mention of my name, Rogan whirls to face me, his eyes taking me in. He rushes toward me, bending slightly to put his face in line with mine. “Are you okay?” he asks, tenderly palming my cheeks. His expression is wild and worried.
The surreal quality of the moment is only intensified by the sound of hysterical hiccupping and sniffling that I soon realize is my own. “Ye-ye-yeah.”
Rogan folds his arms around me, pulling me against his chest and stroking my hair with a soothing hand. “I’m here now, darlin’. You’re safe. You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
And for some reason, I believe him.
TWENTY
Rogan
I’m torn. I want to go back and beat the ever-lovin’ shit out of the asshat who put his hands on Katie, but having her in my arms . . . knowing how vulnerable she is right now . . . how much she needs safety and security and strength . . . Well, nothing could take me away from that. Away from her. Not even the lust for blood.
I’m so glad that I managed to track Katie down. It took some finagling, but I finally managed to get Mona’s number once I was able to get hold of White. It pays to be an actor working on his show.
Mona told me where Katie was and that she was waiting for the boat to arrive. I hauled ass out here to find her. Passed the damn entrance twice. It was hard as hell to spot in the dark. And then when I did finally manage to get here, this is what I find.
I grit my teeth, holding Katie close and bending my head to whisper in her ear. “Let me get you out of here. I’ll keep you safe.”
She doesn’t argue, just continues to cry softly into my neck as I sweep her up in my arms and carry her toward my bike. It’s as I’m nearing it that I remember she’s practically naked from the waist up. That image—the one of her standing at the edge of the light, chest heaving, perfectly rounded breasts swaying, eyes wild—will be burned into my memory for the rest of my days, I suspect. Holy shit! So will this rush of desire. I’ve never felt anything like it. It might be intensified by the rage that I’m experiencing, too. I thought I’d left that kind of emotion behind me, but tonight . . . Mother of God! Even growing up with a father like mine or during my time in the Army, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to hurt another person so much, so violently. I know that’ll be another picture I won’t soon forget—that asshole holding her down, touching her, trying to force himself on her.
My blood boils just thinking about it. With the iron will that I honed early on in my life, I make myself calm down, focusing on the wounded creature in my arms and how she doesn’t need anything but tenderness now. My fury can wait. Katie comes first.
“Are your keys in the car?” I ask, pressing my lips to the crown of her head. Her hair smells like flowers and that hint of musk that seems to be unique to this woman.
She doesn’t speak, only nods. Relieved, I change trajectory, going to her car rather than back to my bike. I open the passenger side door and place her gently in the seat. Her arms are crossed protectively over her chest. Despite the fact that her modesty is mostly preserved by them, I tuck the tattered remains of her shirt around her.
As I straighten away, Katie’s glistening eyes meet mine. They look tortured. Ashamed even, which I find a little bizarre considering what almost happened to her. Maybe it’s normal for the victim to feel shame. What the hell do I know?
She turns her face away, tucking her chin against her shoulder. “Thank you,” she murmurs. And then she starts to cry again, a delicate, heartbroken sound that claws at my heart.
“You don’t need to thank me. I would never let anyone hurt you. Never,” I tell her as earnestly as I know how.
That just seems to make her cry harder, so I close the door and round to the driver’s
side, scooting the seat back and sliding in behind the wheel.
With only the occasional muted sound of Katie’s sobs to break the silence, I make the trip back across town to her house. After I park, I take the keys out of the ignition and go unlock her door before returning to scoop her out of the low seat and carry her inside.
I place her gently on the couch and turn to go close the door, but Katie’s words stop me. “Please don’t leave me,” she whispers brokenly.
I take three long steps toward the door, just enough to get me close enough to kick it shut before I return to the sofa. I lean down to draw her into my arms one more time, settling her on my lap with her head on my shoulder. Then I answer her. “I’m not going anywhere.”
With Katie cradled against me, we sit in silence, the only noise coming from the cat, who’s purring loudly from his perch on the back of the couch. My arm falls asleep long before Katie stops crying. I don’t know if it happens suddenly or if it just feels like it happens suddenly. Either way, it’s like one minute she’s shaking and the next minute she’s looking up at me from beneath her lashes.
I’m surprised by what I see when I look down at her. There’s fire in her eyes. Something like a rebellious anger maybe. I don’t ask questions, even though I want to. I just wait for her to speak. I let her set the pace.
Finally, she levers herself away from me, sliding her legs between mine until her feet touch the floor. I miss holding her the instant I no longer feel her warmth against me. I liked being close to someone who’s impossible to get close to. But I don’t tell her that. I just hold my tongue and wait.
Katie stands to her feet, clutching the shreds of her shirt around her as she backs slowly away from me. She stops when there’s about two feet separating us and she straightens. She looks like she’s bolstering herself. I can see her spine stiffen and her chin ratchet up a few notches. The difference is subtle, but it feels profound. Fierce. And I’m instantly curious about it. Gone is the timid girl who hides away behind downcast eyes and a swath of comforting hair. She’s been replaced by this bold, kind of ferocious woman standing in front of me.
Surprising the shit out of me, Katie lets the pieces of her shirt fall away. Bra, too. They dangle at her sides for a few seconds before she tears them off, almost viciously. She tosses them onto the floor with jerky movements. My mouth drops open as I take in the sight of her. Blue eyes flash hotly, lush lips thin into a determined line, chest swells beneath mouthwatering tits as she inhales deeply. She’s fiery. And beautiful. And I’ve never wanted anything more in my whole miserable life. I’ll never forget this either. I know that tonight is already full of images that will probably haunt me for a long time to come.
I can’t stop myself from looking at the rest of her, so proudly on display. Her breasts are creamy and bigger than I imagined, capped with delicately pink nipples that pucker toward the sky. Her stomach is flat, dipping in at the sides to give her a perfect hourglass shape that flares into her slim hips.
God, she’s amazing!
As I eat her up with my gaze, she shifts slightly, causing the light to glint off some less-than-smooth skin. My eyes focus on the pebbly texture that stretches from the left side of her neck down, grazing her shoulder and then disappearing until it picks up again below her ribs on the left side of her torso.
When she speaks, her voice is too hard for someone so breathtaking. “This is what I hide. This is what Ronnie discovered. This is what disgusted him.” Her face is full of anger and bitterness.
“But, Katie, I—”
“This is why you don’t want me. Not really. This is why I’ll never be the girl for you. You just didn’t know it.” With her pause, she sticks out her chest in defiance. “But now you do.”
It’s obvious she’s trying to push me away. I just don’t understand why. I’m frowning when my eyes drift back up to hers, which are spitting fire. “You couldn’t be more wrong,” I tell her softly. She’s more wrong than she could ever know. This doesn’t make her any less perfect. It just makes her more fragile. If anything, I’m drawn to her in a totally different way. Something fiercely protective rises up inside me, something that rivals the way I felt at the lake a little while ago.
I have to know what happened to her. I have to know about her past. I have to know how she was hurt so badly.
I rise slowly to my feet and step closer to her, brushing over the bumpy skin with the tips of my fingers. I know it doesn’t hurt her anymore. Scars don’t have feeling. They’re numb, thankfully. But I also know that some hurts run so deep they never heal. And I have a feeling this is one that goes all the way to her soul. “What happened? Who did this to you?”
Despite the way her eyes are flashing at me, I see her chin tremble. This is hard for her. Very hard, evidently. Maybe it’s the memories. Maybe it’s the fact that scars are often a thousand times uglier to the person wearing them. Or maybe it’s some other ghost I know nothing about.
“I had a different life before this one. And it involved a man a lot like you. He used his fists instead of words and he prized beauty above all else. He thought I was beautiful. Too beautiful. He was always jealous of something or someone else in my life. When I left him, he couldn’t take it. So he found me. And he set my car on fire. With me in it.” Her chin trembles and her voice cracks. “And then I wasn’t beautiful anymore.”
My stomach clenches. Like I’m doing crunches, but it’s involuntary. There are few people I’ve ever felt really connected to, people I’ve wanted to shield or defend. My brother. The men on Delta Five, my team in the Army. But with them it was different. It was like a brotherhood. Loyalty. Solidarity. Never have I felt anything like this before. Never.
Until I met her.
Until I met Katie.
My gut churns. Fury. Sadness. Determination. Defensiveness. Tenderness. And a thousand feelings I don’t have names for.
All I can think of, though, is that she didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve what it has done to her life.
As these thoughts run through my head, I’m staggered by the desire to take away her pain, to guard her from the shitty curveballs life has thrown her way. And from any more that could hurt her.
“He was an asshole and a fool if he thought anything could make you less desirable. Now you’re even more what I want.”
If I hadn’t been watching her so closely over the last few weeks, I’d never have seen the slight softening of her features. It’s practically undetectable. But not entirely.
“But why? Why me? Can’t you understand how ridiculous that sounds? Look at me! I’m scarred. Ugly. Men like you don’t do ugly.”
I move slowly, cautiously. I uncurl fingers I wasn’t even aware of drawing into fists, and I reach for her again. I brush away the hair that wants to fall back over her shoulder, like she’s trained it to cover her. I bend to press my lips to the curve of her neck, to the scars that have haunted her for so long. “This doesn’t make you less,” I tell her softly. “It makes you more. More beautiful, more desirable. It makes you a survivor. A winner. Someone worth having.” I drop my voice into a whisper. “Someone worth loving.”
I move to nuzzle the soft space beneath her ear, gratified by the subtle change in her breathing. It turns from a heave to a sigh as she leans into me just a few centimeters. But a few centimeters is enough. It’s enough to assure me that I’m reading her right. Despite what has happened, despite the turmoil of the day, she wants me. Like I want her. She cares what I think. She might not want to, but she does. And that’s good. Because I care, too. Maybe more than I should, especially for a girl who wants nothing except to push people away.
“Can’t you just trust me? Just a little? Can’t you let me love you?”
The pause before her answer is so long I think she might not answer.
But then she does.
“I-I’m afraid,” comes her barely audible response.
“Don’t be. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything hurt you. Including me.�
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She’s silent for a long time as I press tiny kisses along her jaw and cheek, stroking the smooth parts of her skin to put her at ease.
“Please don’t disappoint me.”
Her request is like a punch in the gut. The pain, the raw plea in her voice cuts through me like a knife.
“I’d rather take a beating than disappoint you.”
She raises tentative hands to curl her fingers around my biceps. I feel them tremble. I feel her fight as clearly as if it were my own. But I also feel her give in.
“Then love me.”
She doesn’t have to tell me twice.
TWENTY-ONE
Katie
For the first time since I woke up from a medically induced coma in the hospital five years ago, I’m letting go. I’m trusting. I’m throwing all my caution, all my insecurity, all my reasons out the window and I’m letting someone in. All the way in.
For the first time, I’m trying to live.
Rogan has seen me. All of me. All the ugly, all the fear, and he still wants me. I might never experience this again, so for just this one moment in time, I’m giving in.
I don’t protest when he slides one arm behind my back and the other beneath my knees to sweep me off my feet. In the bedroom, he sets me at the foot of the bed, but he doesn’t back away. Instead, he stands so close I can feel the heat radiating from his chest, from his stomach, from his thighs, warming me through and through.
He lowers his mouth to mine in a kiss that sears me—my flesh, my heart, my soul. It says he accepts me. It says he wants me. It says that, for now, he won’t hurt me. He’ll only make me feel beautiful and special and loved. Not like a freak show.
With every soft brush of his lips, he rubs away Ronnie’s touch. He rubs away Calvin, my ex’s, fists. He replaces the flames of my past with a new kind of fire, the kind that kindles low in my belly and spreads through my limbs in a slow blaze.
“You taste so good,” he mutters as he licks along the crease of my lips. “I bet you’re delicious everywhere.”