by Miles, Ava
“You’re only protecting yourself,” he informed her.
A part of her gasped at his insight.
Then he lowered his head until their gazes clashed. “No one knows you better than I do, Abbie. No one. And I’m sick and tired of you refusing to admit that you love me.”
She couldn’t admit it. Ever. Once she did, there would be no going back.
“Tell me.”
“No.”
His hold tightened on her. “Tell me.”
“I won’t,” she said, lifting her chin, and considered kicking him in the shin. Rhett always made her come unglued, but tonight was something else.
“You love me, dammit. Why can’t you say it? Just once. Some days I feel like I’ve been left in the Mojave Desert outside of Vegas with no water. You’re killing me, Abbie. I love you, but God help me, I don’t know what more I can do. I can’t change who I am anymore than I already have. And if the song didn’t work…”
His total desolation destroyed her. She’d never seen him this hurt, and she couldn’t be the cause of it anymore.
Her arms latched around him before she could stop herself, and she pressed her body into his. “Then take what you need. I won’t have you hurt by this.”
His pulse beat steadily in his temple. “You take what you need. I told you when I arrived that I wouldn’t touch you unless you asked me. Ask me, Abbie,” he commanded, his voice all rough and dark.
The answer had been inside her all along, and she was tired of fighting it. “Touch me, Rhett.”
He yanked her the final inches toward him and slid those large, warm hands over her hips, caging her to him. “Always.”
Then his mouth covered hers, and their lips met heatedly, searching for connection, searching for a deeper union. He stripped her red velvet dress off without breaking contact with her mouth, ripping it at the seams when it wouldn’t fall as fast as he wanted.
After all this time, the passion between them exploded. The padding was torn off her body to reveal her slender shape, and when she stood in only her black heels and red panties, he slid to the floor in front of her and pressed his mouth to her stomach.
“It’s been so long, Abbie. I’ll try to make it last, but right now, I can’t promise this won’t be fast.”
His lips cruised over the indention of her hips as he slid off her panties. Her head fell back as she stepped out of them and her shoes.
“I don’t want it to be slow. It’s been so long. Rhett, please.”
He stood hastily and stripped off his clothes, keeping close to her. After he flung every piece of clothing across the room, covering the couch, the coffee table, and the carpet, he removed the spectacles she’d been wearing with a gentleness that shocked her.
“I know I said I wanted to make love to you with you wearing these and nothing else, but I’ve changed my mind. I want to see your eyes when I come into you.”
She almost fell to the floor in a pool of lust right then and there.
His body hadn’t changed. It was as strong, muscular, and totally enticing as it had always been before. Even though a part of her still feared what this would do to them, she stepped forward.
“Then come into me.”
The slow smile he gave her prompted a full–body shiver. “Not quite yet, but we aren’t going to make it to the bed,” he murmured and nudged her to the rug beside the couch.
He took her breast in his mouth, sucking strongly and sought out the place between her thighs with his fingers. She drew his face up and lifted her head off the floor, inviting him to kiss her again, and when he did, his tongue sought hers, sliding deep inside her mouth, executing a flawless dance that had her heart pounding in strong pulses all over her body.
Her hands caressed his back, his hips, and slid across his spectacular butt. Then she reached between them and gave him a gentle stroke. He shuddered. “God! I’ve missed your hands on me.”
His eyes closed, and his jaw clenched as she pleasured him.
“Enough,” he growled and reached into his discarded pants for his wallet, drawing out a condom. “I’m only using these until we get married. Then, if you agree, all bets are off.”
Her passion was too great to correct his assertion. She watched as he rolled the condom down his hard length. Then he took her hands and brought them over her head, holding them in place. Part of her had always been thrilled by the total command he had over her body. When his knee nudged her thighs open wider and he stretched out over her, she wanted to purr.
“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice smoky and dark, his eyes gleaming like gold coins. “This is what’s between us. This and more love than I ever imagined having for anyone.”
And then he slowly penetrated her. Her head rolled to the side at the heat, the fullness. She was tight, and he was large. Like it had always been.
“Look at me,” he demanded again.
When she did, he thrust deep. Her body bucked against him.
“Yes,” she cried, feeling the power, feeling the heat surge within her. After so long…
Her vision shrank until all she could see was his golden eyes looking into hers. Their lower bodies came together, met in deep, liquid thrusts, and the heat in her flesh grew until she was sure she would turn to ash.
Being held down only made her more eager to ensnare him, so she clamped her legs around his waist. He rose to his knees.
“Oh, yes,” he said, yanking her hips high off the floor. “Give me more.”
And she did. Then she came in a rush of power, her body contracting and exploding like a supernova, destroying the old and creating a fragile new world for her existence.
He came with a shout, and lowered himself onto his elbows, stretching out on top of her again. She turned her head to kiss his sweaty cheek, and inhaled the cologne she’d picked out for him. He’d never stopped wearing it, even after all this time.
Tears filled her eyes. This is what they’d had. And this is what she’d missed. All of it.
When his eyes met hers, his face fell. “No crying.” Then he rose, discarded the condom, and lifted her off the floor and into his arms. “I’ll have you back at your house before Dustin wakes up, but you’re mine tonight.”
And then he walked into the bedroom and lowered her to the bed.
“I love you,” he whispered, cradling her cheek. “I’m sorry I forgot to say it before.”
She could no longer deny the truth to herself or to him. “I love you too, Rhett.”
His exhale was forceful and heartfelt. He rubbed their foreheads together. “Thank God.”
For the rest of the night, they did nothing but make love to each other. Talking seemed too tenuous, as if the words were paper dolls like the ones she’d made at Christmas as a child.
But they loved each other, and for hours and hours, it was as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.
When he finally fell asleep by her side at dawn, she wished the night could have gone on forever. Making love with him and admitting she loved him—something that had always been true—had changed their world.
And she was still scared of it.
Angry with herself, she gathered up her clothes and left him sleeping, holding back the tears she wanted to cry at the injustice of it all.
Chapter 8
For a second, Abbie considered parking her car at the end of the driveway and walking up. But the wind was howling, and she didn’t want to slip on the ice and break a limb. Making the walk of shame at dawn was embarrassing enough. How much more so would it be if she actually injured herself? Not that she’d tell a soul.
She had left Rhett sleeping in the suite, stopping for a shower in the private bathroom attached to Mac’s office. Somehow, being cleaned up hadn’t made her feel any better. All she’d felt was sadness and shame at leaving Rhett behind. But the urge to flee had been too strong to resist. What was she supposed to say to him now?
The house was quiet when she entered. It was just shy of seven o’clock on a
Saturday morning, after all, but she still cocked an ear, listening. If she could make it to her room without being heard, she could pretend—at least to her family—that nothing had happened. Lying was against her code, but withholding information was a different story. She was a mom for heaven’s sake. Even if she wasn’t being the kind of role model she wanted to be.
Another reason she needed to stop this thing with Rhett.
She tiptoed across the hall into the family room.
“Good morning,” her brother’s even–tempered voice said.
Jumping in fright was ludicrous, but she did it anyway. Her adrenaline spiked, and she put a hand to her racing heart. Busted.
“Mac, you scared me,” she whispered, noting he was already dressed in casual gray pants and a black cashmere sweater.
“Sorry,” he responded in a normal voice. “Are you okay?”
The old feeling of paranoia—something she’d felt throughout her secret relationship with Rhett—resurfaced. “Is Dustin up yet?” It was unlikely since he usually slept until noon on Saturdays.
“I had him spend the night with Keith to give you a little space,” Mac responded. “Come into the kitchen and have some tea.”
The big brother thing was in full force if his patient, assessing glance was any indication. Darn it. Thank heavens she’d kept a change of clothes at the hotel, but she was still carrying a bag with her wig and costume. This situation could not have been more awkward.
“I need to—”
“Come along,” Mac interrupted. “I’ve been up most of the night worrying about you. Looking at your face, I can see my concern was warranted. It’s time for us to talk.”
She was thirty–four years old. She could stand up for herself. “Mac, you have security feeds in every part of the hotel. You know where I was, and even though I’m ashamed of it, you must know what I’ve been doing. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Those green eyes, so like her own, flickered for a moment. She couldn’t read his face. Mr. Poker Champion was in full force.
“You’re right. I know where you were. Doesn’t mean I wasn’t worried about you after the way you ran out of the party last night. That’s something you never do. I think it’s past time for us to talk about the main reason you’re running.”
It took a moment for her to inhale past the blockage in her throat. Why was everyone pushing her all of the sudden? “I don’t want to.”
He lowered his head, staring at the ground. “Abbie, I love you, and I know you don’t want to talk about what’s really standing in your way, but you need to.” When he looked up, it was like someone had snuck around her and was trying to strangle her. “Let me help you.”
“Mac, please,” she only whispered, shaking her head, feeling the ever–present fear settle in her solar plexus.
He shook his head and walked toward her until they were inches apart. “I didn’t want to do this the hard way, but it looks like that’s the only way it’s going to happen. I’ve watched you keep yourself frozen for nearly six months with Rhett. After last night, I figured you might have given a little, but you’re already shoring up again. I can see it on your face. Abbie, how is Dustin supposed to believe he can have a fulfilling relationship when he gets old enough after seeing how you’re acting?”
She sucked in an uneven breath after that sucker punch, an asthma attack calling her name. “That’s below the belt.”
She pulled out her inhaler and took a puff. It calmed her breathing—for the moment.
His warm hands settled on her shoulders, and he met her gaze. “I know, but I had to up the ante. Listen, you and I made a promise to tell each other when we’re doing something that’s not in Dustin’s best interest. Dammit, I hate to say it, but that’s exactly what you’re doing.”
All of the sudden she had to bite her lip to keep from crying. I’m just overtired, she told herself. Mac gathered her against his chest and hugged her.
“Plus, it’s hurting you too. Come into the kitchen and talk to me. We always figure things out that way.”
She sniffed when she pulled away. He handed her an embroidered handkerchief, the only thing she ever used when she cried. Since she rarely did, she wanted to use something that deserved her tears, and a tissue just didn’t cut it.
“You knew I was going to cry?” she asked, taking it from him.
“I rather hoped you would. You need to, Abbie, and not about Rhett. Come on, I’ll make you your favorite tea.”
He took her arm and led her into the kitchen. After she’d settled down on a bar stool, he busied himself with filling the kettle with water and setting it to boil on the stove. She was reminded of Rhett making her tea not too long ago.
What was it with the men in her life? When were they going to realize there was nothing to be fixed?
A part of her said, Yeah, right.
She tried to compose herself, but fissures were spreading through her heart. Long–held pain was leaking out like water from an old pottery mug with a crack in the bottom.
Mac didn’t say anything to her; he just focused on filling her tea ball with her special jasmine tea from Venice, the one Rhett had at his house.
God, why couldn’t she stop thinking about Rhett? And why couldn’t she stop imagining what he’d look like when he awoke to an empty bed?
Mac caught the kettle before it sang its church organ note and poured the hot water into her Royal Albert Christmas teapot, setting her snowman Christmas cozy over it so it would retain its warmth. Thank God he was all male, or he would have looked ridiculous. After letting it steep for four minutes, he poured her tea into a matching teacup and added a slice of lemon and a teaspoon of honey, just the way she liked it.
Then he grabbed his cup of coffee and sat beside her, still saying nothing. The silence between them grew, and with it, her distress. She traced the rim of the cup with a finger.
“You and I have been together a long time, Abbie,” her brother finally said. “If you hadn’t gotten pregnant at eighteen, we would have gone our separate ways, living apart like most siblings. Getting married. Having kids. We would have seen each other every once in a while, but we wouldn’t have been best friends.” He set his hand on top of her free one.
Her brother’s huge heart could always be counted on, and she could already feel the first tear slipping down her cheek. “Oh, Mac.”
“I’ve watched you grow up. I’ve helped you raise Dustin. And I’ve seen you work so hard to make yourself into the person you wanted to be. Our own mother pales in comparison to the way you love and take care of Dustin. And you have a hell of an eye with the hotels, from the flowers to the furnishings to the decorations. But after what Dustin’s father did to you, you stopped letting yourself be a woman. I know this because I’m engaged to a woman who did the same thing after her divorce.”
When she tried to lift her delicate tea cup and take a sip, she burned her mouth…just like her memories of what had happened the night of Dustin’s conception were burning through her right now.
“I’m not saying your experience is the same as Peggy’s, but I am saying that being with her has made me see you more clearly. And I want you to break free of the past like she finally has. This hesitation you have about Rhett isn’t about his flamboyance, dependability, suitability, or even his poker babes. It’s about you trusting yourself again.”
Her hand suddenly went numb, and the cup clattered to the counter. “What?”
He pushed their cups aside and angled her bar stool to face his. “I finally figured it out. You don’t trust yourself to know if a man is going to be good to you in the long run. You blame yourself for not seeing the asshole who hurt you for what he really was. You knew him. You liked him. You thought he was a good man. And then he blew that image to bits and stole your innocence.”
The handkerchief felt soft on her lips when she raised it to them, trying to hold back the words that were rushing up to be said. Hadn’t that been her strategy for years? To deny, de
ny, deny? And yet it hadn’t worked…
“It wasn’t your fault,” he said gently, stroking her arm.
She shook her head. “Of course it wasn’t.” The words were a harsh whisper, burning her throat.
“If you believe that, then say it,” he urged, covering her hand again and squeezing it.
Her lips trembled. “It…”
“Tell me,” he said again.
Why couldn’t she say it? It was like her throat had become a clogged pipe. She coughed to clear it. “It…” Her speech failed her again as the tremors spread through her body.
“Say it, Abbie.” It was a demand this time.
Her head buzzed and any thread of control was singed and snapped by the fire raging through her. She shoved back from him, back from the chair, and stood there panting.
“What the hell do you know? You weren’t there. You don’t know.”
He stood slowly, moving in front of her. “So, I don’t know. Why can’t you say it?”
Her face started to crumble. She could feel every wrinkle, every line. “Because…it’s a fucking lie.” She slapped her hand over her mouth at her crass language. She never said the f–word.
“Why is it a fucking lie? Come on, Abbie. I wasn’t there. Tell me.”
And his voice was almost a shout, pushing her to the edge of the deep cavern of her fear. She hovered over the brink and then fell.
“Because…it was my fault! I didn’t see him for what he was. I didn’t think he’d do something like that. I trusted him!”
And that final admission brought her to her knees. “Oh, God,” she cried, wrapping her arms around herself. “He raped me.”
Before she knew it, Mac was beside her on the floor, gathering her close. “Let it out, Abbie,” he whispered, smoothing her hair as she cried against his chest. “It’s time to let it go.”
She couldn’t respond. She was snowed under by nearly seventeen years of buried pain, pain suppressed by the need to take care of a baby who hadn’t deserved to be born under such circumstances.
Mac held her tight while she cried out all the pain, the injustice, the victimhood, and the fear that had been frozen inside of her, closing her off to the love of a good man.