by Nalini Singh
He was still so hard, and in this new position, his cock hit places inside her that tore new moans from her already pleasure-drunk body. When he said, “One more time, sweetheart,” she tried to shake her head, but it felt too heavy, her veins filled with sweet sugar syrup rather than blood.
Abe moved one hand from her breast down to play teasingly at her navel, going an inch lower with every brush until she was holding her breath in anticipation of a more intimate touch. Then he did it, and with his hand so tightly pressed under her body, the pressure on the blood-flushed button of her clit sent an erotic shock through her entire body.
“Again,” he murmured at her whimper, kissing her throat at the same time that he pressed down almost too hard on her clit. But Abe knew her body, knew how to stay on the right side of the line.
Bucking up in shocked pleasure, she clamped down hard on him with her inner muscles at the same time. He groaned, shoved deep, pulled out and thrust back in, in a rough pounding that had her clawing at the sheets as her body spasmed again and again. Then he was pulsing inside her, hot and wet.
He collapsed on her afterward, his breath that of a runner who’d just sprinted to the end of his endurance. His muscles quivered against her—and oh, she loved that she’d done that to him—but he still managed to brace himself on one arm only seconds later so that he wasn’t crushing her.
“Fuck,” he gasped. “I hate being a big bastard at times like this.”
Sarah’s own breathing wasn’t exactly steady when she said, “I can take a little more.” Yes, he was a big, muscled weight, but she liked feeling him all over her.
Taking her at her word, Abe lowered himself until she felt deliciously crushed, surrounded by his scent, enveloped in the wild heat of him. He brushed her hair off her face, kissed her cheek. The sweet, unexpected caress made her toes curl. “Morning.”
She smiled in a way she knew was silly and happy. “Good morning.”
Stroking his hand down her side, Abe cupped her breast with lazy possessiveness. “What do you have planned for today?” Another sweet kiss.
“Nothing major.” She couldn’t stop smiling. “I thought maybe I’d read or bake.” Normal, ordinary things that she cherished. “And Flossie and I usually go for a more fun walk on Sundays.”
“Can I eat your baking?” Abe nuzzled her.
She turned her head to smile up at him. “Yes, but I might put you to work as my assistant.”
“Bring it on.”
ABE SAT CLEAN AND SHOWERED in Sarah’s kitchen. Since he had no fresh clothes at her place, he was just wearing a towel, while she’d pulled on a large T-shirt and panties as well as fluffy socks. “The tile floor on this side of the kitchen is too cold,” she said to him when he teased her about the pink socks.
“I like them—very cheerleader.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Did I ever tell you about my cheerleader fantasy?”
Rolling her eyes and laughing, Sarah passed him the last of the ham from the fridge, the rest of their breakfast supplies already on the table. “I need to go grocery shopping.”
Abe didn’t grocery shop. It wasn’t that he thought he was too good for it—he just didn’t think about it. He had a housekeeper who came in once a week and who made sure the house was clean and he had food in the pantry. If he ran out of something midweek, he grabbed it from a local convenience store. But if Sarah wanted to go grocery shopping, he was in. “We can go after breakfast.”
Sarah halted in the process of pulling out slices of bread from the toaster. “Since when do you grocery shop?”
He grabbed the coffee carafe, topped off his mug. Sarah was sticking to one cup a day for the duration of her pregnancy, going with decaffeinated drinks the rest of the time. Today that meant some fruity herbal tea.
“I used to go with my mom when I came home from boarding school,” he told her.
“You must’ve missed your folks when you were away at school.” Sarah’s voice was careful.
It took Abe a second to figure out why: he’d always shut her down when she’d asked about his family during their marriage. Back then everything had reminded him of Tessie, and he hadn’t been able to handle it. But that Abe was in the past. This one could think of his baby sister without breaking… and he’d promised not to hurt Sarah.
It was a promise he’d damn well keep.
“Yeah,” he said, the grin that spread over his face unexpected and real both. “I was a bit of a mama’s boy, to be honest.”
Sarah’s face lit up. “You?” she said as they sat down to eat. “I don’t believe it.”
“Seriously, I was.” Abe grabbed a slice of toast, reached for the butter. “I mean, I didn’t run to her if someone talked shit to me or anything like that, but I used to enjoy doing stuff with Mom.”
Grinning again, he shook his head. “I’d complain if she asked me to go to the mall or the grocery store with her and pretend I was bored out of my skull while she shopped, but secretly I liked hanging out with her.”
Sarah’s smile was huge. “Did you ever let on?”
“Naw. But I think Mom knew. Somehow she always had to do a ton of stuff when I was home from boarding school.”
“What about your dad?”
Abe took a deep breath. Losing his father so soon after Tessie had been a hammer blow neither he nor his mother had expected, and sometimes Abe still forgot his dad was gone and would go to give him a call to ask his advice. “I loved him,” he said, his voice gritty. “He was older than my mom, a little more set in his ways, with some old-fashioned views, but he was always so proud of me.”
Abe swallowed the emotion choking him up. “He wanted me to be my own man, whoever that man was.” He shook his head. “I was so scared of telling him I wanted to pursue a career in rock music instead of going to college, but all he said to me was that a man had to be able to support himself and his family, and if I could do that with music, that was all that mattered.”
Shifting to sit beside him, Sarah ran a gentle hand up and down his back. “I’m sorry I never got to meet him.”
“He would’ve liked you.” Abe could almost see his father’s smile at that instant, quiet but deep. “This business you’ve created with your own hard work—it’s something he would’ve appreciated.”
“You had good parents.”
Sarah’s wistful tone made Abe realize he knew next to nothing about her childhood. She’d told him her parents were dead, but the only other thing he knew was that her mom had been Puerto Rican, her father African-American—though, he remembered, her dad’s grandmother had been Japanese.
And that was it, that was all he knew about her early history.
“Your folks?” he asked gently after she’d eaten a spoonful of muesli. “Not so good?”
Her face closed up. “No, they were fine,” she said, so quickly she almost tripped over the words.
Abe wasn’t about to let it go, not this time. If they were to make it, both of them had to be honest and open with each other. “Sarah.” He closed his hand over her nape. “Talk to me.”
Huge, dark eyes met his. Ducking her head, she didn’t say anything else. He was frustrated but knew he couldn’t force her—and she didn’t need any extra stress right now. So he let her eat her muesli while he demolished the toast and ham and cheese. Not the most traditional breakfast, but Abe wasn’t fussy.
Hell, he’d been known to eat cold pizza for breakfast after a bender.
“You want some?” he asked when there was only one piece of toast left on the plate.
Sarah shook her head. “No, you have it. This muesli really fills me up.”
Abe had given up all hope of getting an answer to his earlier question when she said, “My mom was seventeen when she had me.” A voice so quiet it was almost soundless. “My father was her high school boyfriend.”
Abe rose, topped off his coffee, poured Sarah some more tea from her little pot.
“Predictably,” she said after taking a sip, “they didn’t last
long. The two of them crashed and burned eight months after I was born.” Her eyes turned faraway, her focus distant.
“My father wasn’t a deadbeat though. He got an apprentice position at an auto shop, helped my mom with money for food and rent after her parents kicked her out. He even took shifts with me so she could go out with her friends.” She took a deep breath. “Then he died in a car accident when I was three, and that was it.”
It sounded so final, as if with her father had gone all hope. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “It must’ve been tough, not having your dad there as you grew up.”
“I sometimes wonder what my life would’ve been like if he hadn’t been in that crash. Everything I know about him says he was the more stable of my parents.”
Another pause to take a sip of tea, another shaky breath. “After my father died, my paternal grandmother helped babysit me, but she was too infirm to take me full time. She passed away when I was about nine.” Her fingers squeezed at her mug, her throat moving as she swallowed convulsively. “I loved her. She was so kind to me. I think she was the only person other than my dad who really loved me.”
Abe frowned. “What about your mom? Given that they kicked out their own kid, I’m guessing your maternal grandparents won’t win any ‘Parent of the Year’ awards.”
Lips pursed tight, Sarah nodded. “They were religious—and not the kind of religious anchored in compassion and helping the less fortunate. No, they were the kind of religious that makes a person cold and unforgiving. According to them, my mother had brought shame on the family by having a child out of wedlock and they didn’t want anything to do with her. I’ve never met them.”
Abe felt his hand fist under the table, his jaw a brutal line. “Yeah well, you probably didn’t miss out on much.” He cuddled her closer.
She came, putting her mug on the table and placing one of her hands on his thigh. “They called me the ‘spawn of shame.’ My mom let it slip once when she was drunk.”
Abe wanted to strangle the older couple. “So, your mom drank?”
“Just the odd weekend bender. Her drug of choice was men, and they were the only thing about which she cared. I basically raised myself after my grandma passed away.” She blinked really fast, as if fighting off tears. “My mother blamed me for all her lost dreams and opportunities.”
Abe felt his jaw lock at the pain inherent in that last statement, knew he shouldn’t interrupt, but he couldn’t stop himself. “You had no choice in being born. And being a young single mom doesn’t mean the end of everything.”
“I know,” Sarah said softly. “I didn’t for a long time, but then I met my best friend, Lola. She was a teenage mom too, and though her folks didn’t kick her out, they were dirt-poor and working all the hours of the day themselves, couldn’t really offer her much help. She raised her son with sheer grit and determination, and he adores her.”
“I think I’ll like Lola.”
A trembling smile. “I know you will—but she’s probably going to want to deck you.”
Sucking in a breath, Abe winced. “I can take it.” Lola had been there for Sarah when she needed a friend—Abe would give the woman any leeway she wanted. “So, your mom never settled into a stable life.”
Sarah shook her head. “We had a rotating front door—one man after another, all of whom were going to be ‘different,’ going to be ‘the best.’ All of whom were knights in shining armor and so what if they didn’t like her ‘brat.’ It wasn’t like she liked the brat either. Just a whiny mouth to feed, no good for anything, useless.”
Fury roared through Abe’s veins. He wished he could go back, change the past, but he couldn’t. All he could do was hold Sarah, love her.
Shadows across her face, even darker and more vicious. “She always chose violent men. My father was her single good decision.” Her hand rose to her cheek, to the spot where Jeremy Vance had hit her.
Shoving away from the kitchen chair, Abe stalked to the window, pressing his hands against the counter as he fought the rage vibrating under his skin. “Did that asswipe hit you? While you were together?” He’d never forget how Sarah had looked that night, so shocked and lost and shattered.
But it wasn’t until this instant that he understood just how much Vance had hurt her soul. His blow would’ve awakened nightmare memories of her childhood. Abe didn’t have to read very hard between the lines to know that her mother and her mother’s boyfriends must’ve hit Sarah.
“No.” Sarah’s response was immediate and firm. “That was the first time—and I wouldn’t have stood for it even if you and the others hadn’t been there to support me. I was never going to be that woman, the one with fist-sized bruises under her shirts and heavy makeup to hide the black eyes.”
Abe’s gut filled with ice. Suddenly he knew where this was going. “One of them went too far?”
CHAPTER 25
“HE BROKE HER NECK.” Tears clogged her voice on the starkly brutal answer, but she kept speaking. “Then he set fire to our trailer. I crawled to her room, tried to drag her out… until I realized… until I realized…”
Striding back to her, Abe tugged her up into his arms. He went to speak but she wasn’t finished. “The police caught him. He’s serving life in prison.” A shuddering sob. “She wasn’t a good mom, but she was still my mom and he killed her.”
“Fuck, you were a strong kid.” He knew she must’ve testified to send that murderous bastard to prison.
“I got put into foster care after that.” She wiped her face on her T-shirt. “It was a bad place. More violence along with a son with wandering hands and a way of looking at me like I was meat.”
Abe gritted his teeth together, his muscles rigid.
Sarah continued to talk. “After the prick cornered me one night, grinding his crotch into me and telling me I was going to get it and I better not say a word or his parents would kick me out for being a slut, I packed up what little I had and left.”
“How old were you?”
“Fifteen.”
He crushed her close, his heart thudding. Fifteen-year-olds didn’t last long on the street without attracting the attention of certain predators. Especially fifteen-year-old girls as beautiful and as well-developed as Sarah must’ve already been. His muscles bunched, his rage returning on a black roar at the idea of her being hurt that way.
“You okay to keep talking?” Abe would never force her back into hell.
“You might as well know the rest,” she said, her head turned to one side on his chest and her arms down by her sides instead of around him. “I didn’t have any real money. Just a few dollars given to me by a cop who felt sorry for me.”
A short pause, her breathing jagged. The next words she spoke were haunted. “After hours walking down the highway alone in the dark”—echoes of fear in her voice—“I hitched a ride out of town with a trucker. And I gave him what he wanted because he told me we’d be together forever, that he’d take care of me, make sure I never had to be alone in the dark again. I’d watched men make promises to my mom and break them over and over, should’ve known not to believe him, but I was so alone and so scared.”
Abe was so far beyond anger now that there was no word to describe it. What the fuck kind of asshole took advantage of a grieving fifteen-year-old? “If you ever see him, point him out and I’ll break his nose, and you can kick him in the nuts.”
A wet laugh and Sarah’s arms slipped around him at last, as if she finally trusted that he wouldn’t let go, wouldn’t reject her. “He left me in Los Angeles two months later. Just drove out while I was using a restroom.” Nails digging into his skin. “I had such dreams of the big city, of the lights and the pretty people, but I found those things don’t exist for girls with no one.”
His gaze blood red, Abe kissed her temple, braced to hear the worst.
“I was so lonely. Easy prey for the smooth-talking predators.” Another rasping breath. “But I’d learned from my experience
with the trucker, and then for the first time in my life, I had a stroke of luck. I was squatting in an abandoned building with a bunch of other kids and getting ready to run to avoid a drug dealer I already knew wanted to pimp me out, when the police raided it.”
Abe kissed her temple again, so fucking scared and angry for the girl she’d been. “That doesn’t sound like good luck.”
“The cops didn’t want to deal with us kids—they were after the narcotics den in the basement. So they handed us over to a local charity organization. Most of the others ran off first chance they got, but I stayed.” She shrugged. “I hadn’t been on the streets long enough to make friends or have other loyalties, and at least with the charity, I had a place to sleep where I didn’t have to worry about being assaulted.”
Abe could feel himself trembling within. “Sarah, sweetheart, why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?” She’d said her parents were dead and that she’d been on her own for a while, never once mentioning that she’d been on her own from the time she was fifteen. “Why, baby?”
Sarah pulled away, her movements jerky as she walked to the sink and began to rinse the dishes, put them into the dishwasher. Abe resisted the temptation to demand more from her, resisted the temptation to be the raging bull he so often was. Instead, he helped clear away the detritus of their meal, then grabbed the magnetic notepad she had on her fridge.
It was one of those novelty items with Shopping List in fancy font on the top. Below, Sarah had jotted down a few items in her distinctive handwriting with its wide loops and generous curves. “Milk,” Abe said, noting it down. “Eggs. Ham, since I ate all of it. Bacon too.” Please, Sarah, talk to me. I won’t let you down this time. “Doughnuts. Cake. Chocolate-covered pretzels.”
“Abe.” Sarah finally spoke, shooting him a scowl at the same time. “Just put vegetables. I’ll pick from whatever they have at the Farmers Market.”
Wanting to hold her again, he forced himself to stay in place. “What else?”