“Spineless weasel.”
“He was just a kid.” She could tell Brent wanted to object again, but he kept silent so she carried on. She’d been spat on, slapped, bullied. Getting dumped by Sam and her girlfriends had hurt at the time, but paled into insignificance with later events. “So, this other guy asked me to go to the prom with him instead.”
“Who?”
“Doesn’t matter.” She shivered as a cold memory blew over her skin. Brent pulled her closer, his skin as hot as an open fire.
“Matters to me.”
“Why? So you can spend another twenty inside for something that happened eight years ago?”
“You think you’re not worth it?” he demanded.
“He’s not worth it.”
“What if I promise to just beat the shit out of him?”
The venom in his voice scared her. “I never told Dad because I know he’d have gone after him and I didn’t want that. You have to promise you won’t touch him either.” Her breathing grew choppy. “I don’t want to have to worry about you…” Her voice broke and she buried her face in the sleeping bag. What sort of admission was that? That she cared. Too much.
Whatever happened, they weren’t going to live happily ever after. They lived separate lives in separate countries. Thinking of what had happened to poor Peter, they’d be lucky to live through this mess, period.
When she went to pull away, he held her and murmured, “Fine. I won’t touch the bastard.” His breath brushed her cheek and she shivered. The scent of him engulfed her, comforted her. So big. So masculine. No soft edges, but gentle and unexpectedly kind. She trusted him more than she’d ever trusted anyone else in her life. More than she trusted herself.
Her heart pounded, but she had to get this story out. Needed to expel the words.
“So this guy asks me to the prom even though it was obvious he didn’t really want to.” She flashed back to his expression. Sullen. Angry. “A friend of my mom’s fixed us up. We went in his car and I was just so grateful to be going—maybe dance, you know? Pretend everything was normal and that I still fit in.”
The way Brent’s fingers tightened on hers reminded her he didn’t know. Age sixteen he hadn’t gone to the prom. He’d gone to jail and his childhood sweetheart had waited a lifetime for the boy she’d lost, and then she’d been murdered. It was a much sadder story than hers. Darkness gave her strength to finish this. That and the fact he’d gone through far worse. She started to tremble.
“You don’t have to tell me.” His voice rumbled through her back.
A lump wedged in her throat because she did. For the first time in her life, she needed to get this out. It was like a tumor trapped inside her and she had to get rid of it before it took over her life and destroyed her forever.
“We started driving toward school but then he changed his mind. Said we were supposed to meet two of the guys on the beach first. I guess I was a bit nervous. I was so desperate for everything to go back to normal. To talk to my friends. Maybe to win Sam back when he saw me with another guy.” The memories kept coming, backfilling the empty void of her life. The cool breeze off the water, the grit of sand against her bare skin. “When we got there, the beach was empty so he suggested we dip our feet in the ocean. I thought it was a cute idea—being all dressed up and on the beach.”
The weight of Brent’s silence crushed her and made it difficult to breathe.
“I wore this blue silk gown and silver heels—to match my name.” She’d bought them to try and cheer herself up and had known she looked good in them. “He opened a bottle of beer and gave it to me. I didn’t know he put something in it. A roofie or something.” Damn, she felt cold on the inside. Like her bones had been put in the deep freeze. All these years later and she couldn’t stop shaking. “I only had a few sips—I don’t like beer—but after that I could barely stand. I didn’t even know what he was doing when he started unzipping my dress.” She laughed but it came out garbled, like a choke, and she squeezed her eyes shut even in the darkness. “I think I thought we were going swimming, but it all got fuzzy after that.” Not fuzzy enough.
Brent’s arms tightened further, the force of the embrace almost painful, but it helped ground her in the here and now and kept her from floating screaming into the past.
“He folded my dress very neatly and laid it on the sand. I remember thinking that was nice of him. Folding my dress so it doesn’t crease. Then he started messing with my panties and I realized I wasn’t even wearing a bra because the dress didn’t need it. I started to panic and tried to get up and run, but I was in my stupid heels and he caught me…” Her fingers went to her lips. “He ripped off my panties so I was naked except for the fuck-me heels—his words, not mine. Then he raped me in the sand.”
She clamped her thighs together as if that would change the past.
It had hurt, a lot. Rough, brutal violence that defied society’s conventions, and overpowered her weak attempts to fight.
She could hear Brent’s breathing, feel his chest expanding. He rocked her gently in the circle of his embrace. “When he was done, he threw my dress at me and stuffed my panties in his pocket. Told me he was going to show the guys, tell them he’d fucked me on the beach because I’d begged him to and that no one would believe me and no one would care even if I told them the truth.” Her lips curled in remembered horror. “And then he told me I wasn’t even any good anyway.
“I believed him.”
Brent rubbed her neck with his chin. Kept silent. But she could feel his rage.
“He drove to school and left me in his car like a piece of garbage. I walked home barefoot.” She’d snuck in, told her mother she’d had a headache. Then cleaned up in the bathroom as if water and soap could wash it all away. She’d wanted to burn the dress, but hadn’t had access to a fire. She’d stuffed it in a box in the attic instead.
“You never told anyone. Never reported it?” His voice was a dark rasp.
“No. He was right. Everyone hated me and I wasn’t about to go to the police.” Terrified he’d attack her again, she’d locked herself in her bedroom and had been more alone than she’d ever imagined possible.
A long pause. “What about your mother?”
“She didn’t hate me, but she was a wreck. I couldn’t tell her.” Her mom had already been devastated by her husband’s betrayal, finding out her daughter had been attacked would have undermined all the progress Katherine had made. Anna hadn’t been able to deal with the idea of coping with all that on top of everything else.
She tucked the tangled mess of her hair behind her ear. She still needed to talk to her mother about Dad. Needed to figure out a way to repair their tattered relationship.
“And two days later you tried to kill yourself.” Brent’s voice was rough as that long-ago ocean.
It had been the blackest period of her life, and thinking back on it now, it was a miracle she’d survived. “He bragged to his buddies that we had sex and they believed him. Everyone was whispering and pointing at me, only this time it was even worse than when Dad was arrested because none of it was true, and it hurt so much. It was…God, it was awful.” Her insides scrambled just remembering the shame and disgust. And the fear it would happen again. “I went back to the beach trying to figure it all out, and then the storm came.” Her tears dried up. “I just wanted it all to go away.
Brent’s quiet support boosted her.
“As soon as I got in the water, I knew I’d made a mistake. I didn’t want to die, and I fought hard to survive.” The words came fast now. She’d been lucky to have spotted by a fishing boat. Beyond lucky. “Everyone assumed I’d tried to commit suicide because of Dad. I know that’s what he believed.” What he’d died believing. Another painful regret she’d take to her grave. “In the hospital they kept telling me how ‘well’ I was doing and it made it harder to tell them what had really happened. In the end it was just easier to let them think it was Dad’s fault…”
There was silen
ce for a long time—nothing but the sound of the wind in the trees and their own quiet breathing. Did he hate her for that deception, for that weakness? It all seemed so petty now.
“I’m glad someone pulled you out of the water, Anna.”
Not judging, or condemning the mistakes she’d made. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms and something flickered in their wake. Something exciting. Something unfamiliar. Something good.
Her emotions jumbled and jolted. The pain from the memories diminishing. The desire to move on from the past, growing stronger and stronger every second, despite the fear and uncertainty surrounding the future.
She turned to face him, cupped his cheek, and reached up to kiss him softly. She’d been a coward for so long. He’d given her so much over the last few days. Sacrificed so much. But that wasn’t what this was about. Brent Carver made her ache with ravenous lust and gritty desire and it was so new, so unexpected, so precious, she had to explore it. For a few seconds he remained unresponsive beneath her. Then his lips moved gently over hers, shattering something deep inside, something that had held her prisoner for a very long time. The ice in her blood turned to steam. Uncertainty turned to need that crawled through her belly and arrowed lower with sharp arousal. She traced her tongue along the seam of his lips and felt something change as he let her inside to slowly taste him.
Strong, powerful male. Gentle protector.
A low growl rumbled through his chest and then he was kissing her hard and deep, his tongue tangling with hers in a searing dance. Hunger exploded along her nerves. Her heart hammered. Breath coming in gasps. Her fingers slipped beneath his shirt, sliding over taut hot skin. She felt him shiver even though he made no move to touch her. He was letting her take everything at her speed, giving her the sort of control she usually craved.
Curious, she slipped her hand lower, the back of her knuckles grazing the flat abs and smooth skin, her own nipples responding by tightening into sensitive peaks that she wanted him to touch. Cautiously, she cupped the bulge at the front of his jeans and his hips surged forward. She stroked him through the denim, intrigued by the length of him growing bigger and harder, straining against her palm. The idea of having him inside her didn’t scare her. It made her hot. His fingers dug into her hip bone, holding her in place. Not pulling her closer.
Which was a crying shame.
Her whole body pulsed at the idea of making love with Brent. Before the rape she and her high school boyfriend had messed around and had sex a few times—it hadn’t been her smartest decision but, with everything that came after, she hadn’t regretted it. She knew sex could be fun, even enjoyable. A few years ago she’d bought herself some sex toys, determined to figure out what the hell was wrong with her—it turned out there was nothing wrong with her, it was guys she didn’t trust. She knew there was pleasure to be had. And she’d spent years imagining how a man might touch her with desire and how she might respond like a normal woman. But until this moment it had never happened.
She wasn’t going to be put off by fear or inexperience. There had been so much death recently she knew there was no guarantee of tomorrow. She might never get another chance to be with this man the way she needed to be. A low sound of want came out of her throat, her hands moving to the button of his jeans, the low rasp of the zipper. But he pulled away and she was flipped fast so she was facing away from him and then jammed tightly against his body. She tried to twist but his arms were bands of steel.
“We’re not doing anything you might regret tomorrow,” he gritted out.
“W-why not?” The tremor in her voice betrayed her arousal. She pressed her legs together but her sex still throbbed.
“A lot has happened over the last week and you’re not thinking straight.” His body was shaking. He wanted her. Judging from the impossible-to-ignore erection pressed against her butt, he wanted her a lot. “I don’t want you confusing gratitude with lust.”
She almost choked on outrage. “What!” The pissed-off exasperation in her voice made him laugh and she felt it with her whole body. “I know the difference between gratitude and lust, Brent. And between rape and sex. The fact I’m about thirty seconds away from my first orgasm in months is making it all very clear to me.”
“Dammit.” His lungs were heaving. “Why did you have to mention orgasms?”
“Isn’t that the point of what we’re doing?” Or trying to do, in her case. Although there were other reasons she didn’t want to think about—bonding, connection, intimacy, love.
She reached back to touch him, but he caught her hands and held them tightly clasped in front of her. “We’re not doing this, Anna.”
“I finally get the whole mindless lust thing and you aren’t interested?”
“I never said I wasn’t interested.” His voice was rough in her ear. With one hand, he deftly undid the button of her jeans and slipped inside her panties. She arched back against him as he pushed one finger deep inside her. “Oh, God.” She spread her legs wider. Trusting him. Wanting him. It had been so long since anyone had touched her and it had never felt this good.
His heart pounded against her back. “You are so small and tight.” His voice was rough as he stroked in and out, spreading her wetness over her folds, making her breasts ache. She was so turned on it was going to take about ten seconds for her to climax.
“I want you to touch me, Brent. I want you inside me.”
“I am touching you.” He was annihilating her. He let go of her wrists and shifted one hand to torture a beaded nipple. “And I am inside you.” His teeth grazed her neck. Two big fingers plunged deep, the heel of his hand pressing against her clitoris just hard enough to make her explode from the onslaught of sensations. Every nerve blasted like a firework, white light blinding her, and she opened her mouth in a silent scream as it went on and on and on. He slowly brought her back down to earth. Her heart was still galloping and his fingers were still deep inside her. She trapped his hand with her thighs when he went to withdraw, enjoying the aftershocks, wanting more. But after a moment he readjusted her clothing, and pulled her back against him, wrapping her in his arms.
“What about you?” Damn stubborn man.
“I’m not willing to take the risk you might be making a big mistake.”
“Isn’t that my problem?”
He held her against him for one long second and then eased back. “Not tonight. Tonight it’s mine.”
“I don’t think you’d be a mistake,” she said.
His silence said he believed otherwise.
Gradually her heartbeat returned to normal and a languid feeling of exhaustion stole through her relaxed muscles. Her eyelids drifted shut. She gave a peaceful sigh when he finally pulled her snug against him. Then she slept.
No doubt about it, Katherine thought, Anchorage was a beautiful city. The cold blue waters of the Pacific hugged the coast, and huge imposing snowcapped peaks framed the city beneath a fierce blue sky. With the sun shining and temperatures headed for the seventies, today promised to be perfect. Not to mention the feeling of solid ground beneath her feet. She hurried along the sidewalk toward the log cabin visitor center. She wanted information on the Alaska Botanical Garden and knew Ed wasn’t interested. He wanted to take a helicopter trip over a glacier, but the thought of doing that made her queasy. Helicopters scared the bejesus out of her. She was hoping he’d go with the Montgomerys and leave her to her own devices for one day.
He’d always been involved in everything she did. Some might say over-involved—she thought of Harvey. It usually didn’t bother her. Most of her friends had ditched her when Davis had been arrested, and although she now moved in those same circles again, she’d never forgiven that betrayal. It meant she had no close confidantes. She pressed her lips together to force back a sudden onslaught of emotion. She wasn’t even close to Anna and it was her own fault. Their relationship had changed when Katherine had married Ed, and in the process she’d lost a precious piece of herself, but hadn’t even known it
at the time.
Now, she realized fiercely, she wanted it back.
Harvey was right, damn him. She wasn’t in lust with her husband, but they shared a life together, companionship, and security. And maybe that wasn’t the most romantic attitude, but romance had gotten her nothing but grief and heartbreak and she was never going there again. Darn it. She drew her fleece around her shoulders.
She was unsettled and confused about these feelings she still had for Davis, which had taken her so by surprise. She looked up and came to an abrupt standstill, charmed by the sight of the log cabin with its wildflower roof. Flowers bobbed bright in the breeze and insects darted throughout the gorgeous scene.
A van pulled up to park at the curb beside her.
“Katherine!” someone called her name and she turned to see Harvey hurrying after her.
“Dammit.”
Suddenly the side door of the van rattled open and someone grabbed her and pulled her inside. What on earth was happening? Her hip hit the metal rim of the door and pain shot through her body. Something dark and heavy smothered her face and she started to struggle as she choked on the musty scent. Her heart contracted hard and fast. Panic shot through every nerve and vein. Then the door was slammed shut on a male shout and she heard a series of scuffles and bangs as someone tried to crush her.
Harvey. She heard Harvey.
There was the sound of the door opening again. The thud of a body hitting steel. What’s going on? The pressure eased and Katherine lay on the hard floor as someone tied her hands and feet with zip ties.
Oh, my Lord. I’m being kidnapped. This didn’t make any sense. She wasn’t rich. But Harvey was. A sharp prick of pain made her flinch. Then blackness rolled over her in a solid wave.
CHAPTER 12
Anna woke but Brent was gone. She sat up and then flopped back. Yesterday had been the stuff of nightmares but last night had been amazing. The relief of sharing her bitter history with Brent, followed by the hottest make-out session ever, meant that when she’d finally dropped off, she’d slept like she had a head injury. She grinned like a loon, hoping Brent had gotten some rest too.
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