Searching for Beautiful

by Jennifer Probst

  She sucked in her breath.

  He was beautiful. Raw. His fists moved in a blur of pounding, attacking the bag over and over, sharp jabs, wicked lefts, feet planted as he beat the crap out of something imaginary, something that had broken him and changed him forever. His hips rotated with each punch, highlighting eight-pack abs. The serpent gleamed with sweat, twisting over his body like a friend and confidant.

  Liquid dripped from his hair, brows, sliding down his chest. His eyes were dark slits, concentrated on another time, hate and fury whipping around him in waves. She stood completely still, not daring to breathe, her gaze clinging to the mass of rock-hard muscles, bulging biceps, powerful thighs. His body was like a well-trained beast, smooth and golden and strong, and the wanting slammed through her, causing a moan to vibrate from her chest. Heat spread in her veins and her pussy grew wet and ready.

  Gen had no idea how long she watched him or when he finally realized she was in the room. With a vicious kick, the bag swung and surrendered to his brutality, and his head turned.

  Their gazes clashed. Locked.

  Time stopped.

  His breath came out in short bursts. Never breaking the connection, a fierce hunger and rage gleamed in those blue eyes, and for the first time, Gen was afraid.

  He was uncivilized. She'd entered a place he blocked others from visiting. Gen glimpsed the dark beast lurking behind the barriers, but Wolfe kept it chained, deep in the dungeon, not fit for human contact. Right now, as she looked at him, she realized she had just entered hell.

  "You need to get out." His jaw clenched, and he practically hissed out the words. The serpent seemed to be whispering the commands in his ear. "Now."

  She almost left. Knew it would be better. But she'd reached a turning point, and had one last shot at getting him to break. Open up to her. Give her a chance to let her love him. In this room, tonight, the demons needed to be sprung.

  "No."

  A growl rose from his throat. "Not fucking around, Gen. It's not safe here."

  "I don't want to be safe from you." She glanced pointedly at the bag. "Nightmare?"

  The pain carved in his face made her want to weep, wail, leave. But she stayed, swearing to see it out to the ugly end, no matter what the result. They owed each other this much. "Yeah. I get them now and then, so I prefer to work it out of my system. Alone."

  "Maybe that's the problem. You've been alone too long."

  "Not up for this now. Go back to bed and we'll talk in the morning."

  "What if I don't want to talk?"

  He muttered a vicious curse. She dropped her gaze and watched his iron-hard erection stretching his shorts. "I don't think you want to talk either."

  "Don't. I'm not safe right now."

  She took a step closer. "There's that word again. Safe. Do we need to be safe from each other? Safe from the world? Why don't you tell me what you really want and cut through all this exhausting bullshit?"

  She shivered at the barely civilized gleam in his eyes. "I want you to get your ass upstairs and away from me. I'm hanging by a thread here, and if I snap, I'll hurt you."

  Gen stretched out her open arms, palms up. "Every time you run from me, or lock me out, you hurt me. What was the nightmare about, Wolfe? I know it was bad. How bad?"

  She heard his teeth grind. "Bad. Nothing you need to hear. You wanna fuck? Fine, go wait for me upstairs and I'll give you what you want."

  She didn't flinch. Heard the pain and desperation in his voice. Gen stood her ground and dug deep. "Tell me about the bad. The nightmares. Does it have to do with the bands over your wrists you wear day and night? The ones you touch constantly, as if reminding yourself you didn't die?"

  The shock in his eyes destroyed her. He blinked, staring at her as if she was about to attack, so she softened her voice and took a tiny step closer, arms still reaching out. "Every time you refuse to share it with me, you give the memory more power. It gets darker, and more evil when you don't give it light. You're already a survivor. What's the nightmare about?"

  A fragile thread snapped, and suddenly he turned into a wild thing, barely recognizable as human. Pupils dilated, he roared and attacked the bag, as if he wanted to attack her. He kicked and punched and hit in a rage, but Gen never moved, never blinked, letting him empty out the swirling mess until he was drained. "Get out."

  "No. Tell me about the nightmare."

  A keening sound broke from his lips. He ripped off the gloves and tossed them on the floor. She watched while he got dragged into the past, faced the memories in front of him, and finally talked.

  "My mother ran out of drugs. Was so high for so long she couldn't function anymore. She wasn't even there; it was just some shell that used to pass for my mother. The men wanted more money for drugs. That night, I was going to run. I had everything planned, but they came in my room." He closed his eyes. Sweat dripped down his brow. "They raped me. Beat me. And when it was over, I knew I was already dead. Just like my mother."

  She never paused, pushing him further, certain she'd die with him by the end of the story. "What did you do, Wolfe?"

  His mouth opened and closed. He opened his eyes and gazed vacantly at the wall, his body shaking slightly. Then he slowly reached down, tugging the wristbands off. Horror washed over her. The scars were deep and dark, a crisscross of slashes with no obvious pattern marking the skin. "Took the knife. Needed to end it. Sawed at my wrists over and over. Waited to die."

  Her cheeks felt wet but she ignored them, focused on forcing out the rest of the story, festering like a live infection that was slowly killing him. "But you didn't die. What happened?"

  "Passed out. So happy. Thought I was free. But I woke up in the same bed. Wrists bandaged. Blood everywhere. Not sure how long I was out, or what happened. I got up, looked outside, but no one was there. My mother was gone. Rooms were empty. I left."

  "Where did you go?"

  "Walked. Walked forever. Slept in the woods. Waited to die. Don't remember much of those first few days. I found a diner and asked for food, and they gave it to me. I stole. I found places to sleep. I stayed low. Finally I met two other boys like me. They showed me how to survive. Beat up patsies for their stuff. Kept away from cops and shelters. See, it was all a game at first. I figured I'd die eventually, either in a knife fight or jail. I never did though. The days kept passing, and I got used to existing again. But when I looked at my wrists I remembered that night. So I started covering them up. Not seeing them. Pretending it didn't happen. Refusing to remember."

  Every part of her body ached and burned to take him in her arms, cry, hold him. To finally know the truth, yet feel so distant from him ripped at her soul. He was slipping away from her, inch by inch, and in sheer desperation, she crossed the room and grasped his shoulders.

  Those vacant eyes filled up with emotion. A wildness that made her dig her nails into his skin and shake him with the last ounce of her strength.

  "But you did remember. It happened, and you survived. You're here now, with me."

  "I'm not whole."

  The simple words sliced like razors. She cupped his cheeks, holding his head still. "You are whole. They broke your body, not your soul. Your mother broke your heart, not your core. Every day you chose to live, to take a shot and let people back in, like Sawyer and Julietta and Gabby and me, you said a big fuck you. You are whole."

  He shuddered, sliding his hands around her as if craving the warmth of her skin to melt the ice. "On the edge. Can't keep it together."

  In a flash, she recognized the thin line between pain and pleasure, survival and death. The choppy emotions were too much and he needed an outlet, something to hang on to and fight for. He needed something good and pure and real to replace the horror. Frantic to pull him back from the place where the demons lived, she surrendered to instinct.

  "You don't have to keep it together." She tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled. Pressed against him, feeling each muscle and the damp sweat glistening on his skin, she
spoke fiercely against his lips. "I'm the one who loves you. Use me instead."

  Lust flared to life. He tried to push her away, but she clung to him like a wild thing, sensing the wall between them ready to crumble. "No, I'll hurt you."

  She sank her teeth into his lip and dug her nails into his scalp. "Good. Fuck me. Take me. I'm already yours. This is what's real, and good." A low groan escaped him, and he grabbed her, hitching her high up so her legs wrapped around his waist. His breath came out in choppy gasps.

  "Gen--"

  "Right here, right now, with us. This is beautiful. Use me and remember that." She took his mouth, pushing her tongue deep inside, drowning in the musky, heavenly taste of pure man. His whole body shook like he was held in the grip of a fever, and then he was kissing her back, chaining her to him with arms like iron bands.

  They drank, feasted, writhed, the hunger driving them higher and faster. He staggered a few steps, placing her down on the weight bench, and ripped off her shirt. She grabbed his shoulders, arching, accepting the bite of his teeth on her nipples, the deep sucking of his mouth, the flick of his tongue. Ripping off her pajama bottoms, she lay naked and open on the bench. Tugging down his shorts, she wrapped her fingers around his erection and squeezed tight, wringing curses from his lips, scraping her nails over his balls until he pushed her back on the bench.

  "Spread your legs. Hang on to the bar."

  She obeyed, desperate to give him everything she had. He lined up so he towered over her naked body, his hands cupping her breasts, his dick paused at her entrance. She felt swollen and needy, as if the first thrust of him inside would make her come.

  "You're mine."

  He drove in deep. She cried out as his piercing hit the magical spot. "Oh, God."

  He did it again. Grasped her knees and forced her up higher, so each slide in and out merged such intense pleasure it bordered on pain, and she tried to wriggle away. "Too much."

  "Not enough."

  Another thrust. Faster. Harder. Deeper. She shook her head but he refused her retreat, forcing her to accept all of him, the slap of their bodies and the frantic movements growing more urgent, sending her up so high she didn't think she could ever get back down.

  "Wolfe!"

  "Come. Come for me, Gen."

  The orgasm milked every muscle in her body, squeezing mercilessly so her scream splintered the air and got smothered by his lips over hers. Her hips jerked helplessly as he spilled his seed inside, following her over, and the spasms kept going on and on and on . . .

  She didn't even realize she was crying until the deep sobs spilled from her lips. He murmured soothing words and scooped her up into his arms, cradling her while she cried for the boy he was, and the pain he endured, and the devastating way she loved him more than anyone in the world.

  She cried for him, and for her, and the fear that tonight still wouldn't be enough for him to love her the way she needed.

  He held her for a long time. Finally, when she calmed, he led her back upstairs, tucked her into bed, and climbed in with her. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her tight against him. She lifted his battered, scarred wrists to her lips and gently kissed them.

  They slept.

  HE WAS GONE.

  Gen rolled over and stared at the wall. The morning light crept in. He'd made love to her two more times last night, transcending the physical. They'd entwined tight into each other's souls, so close they were no longer individuals but burned together as one.

  She'd never be the same. Never love someone the way she did Wolfe. Last night could've been the beginning of a new chapter. One where friendship was forged into love and a relationship to grow with.

  Instead, Gen sensed last night was his final good-bye.

  Slowly, she sat up. She winced at the slight bruises on her body, but no pain compared to the one in her broken heart. The scent of sex and musk rose to her nostrils. Somehow she had to find a way to reach him, or she would be forced to make the only decision left.

  Give up on him.

  Gen showered and dressed, making her way to the kitchen. Julietta juggled the baby on her hip, a spatula in her hand and the phone tucked beneath her ear. A rapid stream of Italian flew through the air: "Sono sulla mia strada. Rimanere li." She threw the phone down. "Che idiota! Why must I deal with stubborn men?"

  Gen grabbed the platter of eggs and veggies, and took the baby. "I'm asking myself the same question."

  Julietta shook her head, put together two plates, and settled Gabby in the bouncy seat. Two steaming cups of coffee were plunked on the table. "Drink. Caffeine makes things better. Is Wolfe being an idiota?"

  She choked out a laugh. "Yes. Seems we reached an impasse." Gen remembered Julietta didn't know about their friends-with-benefits package. "I mean, with our friendship, of course."

  The woman's lips curved in a knowing grin. "Ah, you think I am an idiota? I know you're sleeping together. I know you're in love with him, and he's in love with you, and he's probably tearing himself up inside with denial and the past and refuses to deal with the truth of the relationship. Am I close?"

  Gen stared. "How did you know?"

  Julietta shook her head and sipped more coffee. "It's all over his face and yours. Wolfe is my son. I knew one day he'd fall in love and struggle. He's a lot like Sawyer, and we had a hard road to follow. Is there something I can do?"

  Gen sighed. "Don't think so. It's up to him to make a choice. I just can't do this anymore. Play at a friendship that's changed. I can't go back."

  "You shouldn't have to." She tapped a finger against her lips. "He's gone to therapy, but there's a part deep inside of him no one can touch. I've never seen him as open as when he looks at you. His heart is lighter, and he's more at peace. You make him happy."

  Gen fought back tears. She hated being weepy and girly. Enough with the crying. "Thank you for that. It means a lot."

  "Has he told you about his past?"

  Her throat closed up, but she forced the words out. "Yes. He finally told me everything."

  The woman nodded, lapsing into a thoughtful silence. "He gave you a gift. But other than Sawyer, and maybe his therapist, he's never told anyone. I think there will always be a dark place inside of him we'll never truly understand. But I taught Sawyer he doesn't have to live there anymore. They both deserve so much more." Her voice broke, and her eyes flickered with memories from her husband's past. Gen watched her, soothed that she understood and had battled the same obstacles. But now they had a family, and a future filled with promise. Wasn't it possible to have the same happiness with Wolfe?

  "What do I do?" Gen whispered. "I love him."

  Julietta reached over and squeezed her hand. "Fight. I fought for Sawyer, but it wasn't easy."

  "And if he doesn't want to fight for me?"

  Her hand slipped away and sadness flickered over her face. "Love is a choice, isn't it?" she said softly. "Sometimes we can only do so much."

  Gen's cell vibrated, interrupting the conversation. She glanced at the ID. The Verily police. "I'm sorry, I need to take this."

  "Go. I'm going to get Gabby ready for the day."

  Gen clicked on the phone and walked into the library. "Hello?"

  "Dr. Mackenzie. Officer Petty."

  "Hi, Officer. Did you get ahold of David?"

  "Matter of fact, we did. He was in Boston at the time. Witnesses corroborated."

  Her spirits sank. "Any way he could've snuck away? Gotten someone else to do it? I just don't understand."

  "We got 'em. Actually, we got her." His voice was laced with derision. "Do you know a Sally Winters from the hospital?"

  The room spun. What? "Yes. We worked together. She's a friend of mine. Are you telling me she did this?"

  "Yep. She was writing the words liar and whore on your house again last night when one of your neighbors confronted her in the act. We were called in and caught Sally with the paint can. She admitted the whole thing."

  "Which neighbor?"

>   "Mrs. Blackfire."

  Gen shook her head. She pictured her nosy neighbor with a telescope and fought off crazy laughter. Guess spying did come in handy sometimes. "How did she catch her?"

  "She said she didn't like graffiti messing up the value of the neighborhood, so she did a night watch for the past few nights." A touch of humor leaked out. "She's a bit of a spitfire. Tried to press charges against Sally Winters, but it's your property. Your call. Anyway, Sally admitted she'd slept with David after your breakup and thought it was permanent. She was afraid he wanted to get back together with you so she concocted a plan to scare you off."

  Gen bit her lip. Something still wasn't right. Even if Sally was interested, the entire episode screamed manipulation. "Are you sure David didn't put her up to it?"

  A short silence settled over the line. "She denies it, but I wouldn't be surprised. Still, I got it all on record in her deposition. Need you back here at the station though."

  The knowledge her coworker and friend could stoop to such a level pained her. She also knew how David worked. Probably promised her a future without telling her about Boston. Sowed the seeds of what he wanted Sally to do. Relief loosened her muscles. David wouldn't be stalking her any longer, especially after Sally was caught. She was finally free.

  Now it was time to take the last stand.

  "Thank you, Officer. I'll be flying home tomorrow if that's acceptable."

  "Of course. Contact me when you're home."

  They said good-bye and she clicked off.

  Funny, it was almost as if part of her life was also clicking into place, finding a new home in the scheme of her life. She wanted to be a doctor again. Go back to the hospital and finish what she started. She wanted to rebuild a relationship with her twin, and make more time and balance for her friends.

  And she wanted Wolfe.

  Gen found him outside on the balcony. Sipping his coffee, looking out over the city streets, deep in thought. She paused and studied him.

  The millionaire model turned hotel magnate wore his usual getup of shorts and T-shirt. His bare feet were propped up on the coffee table. Chocolate-brown curls fell in disarray around his head, and the familiar scent of lemon, soap, and coffee clung to him. She imagined not waking up with him in the morning, or kissing him good night. She craved to be the one to kill the spiders for him, cook for him, yell at him, and make love to him every spare moment.