“What’s that?”
“Trust me with your surrender. I’m going to make you come again and again, darlin’, until you give me your safe word. I need to know you can say it when you’re ready for me to stop.”
He brought his left arm up over her stomach to better pin her hips for him, his fingers sliding down to spread her folds apart. Light and soft, he stroked his tongue everywhere, until her legs wouldn’t stop trembling, her stomach muscles quivered beneath his hand. She couldn’t recognize the sounds coming out of her mouth, desperate gibberish. She’d never made such noise in bed before for any man, but the louder she got, the more he seemed to enjoy it.
She felt the orgasm building, an inexorable wave cresting deep inside her, black and monstrous, a category-five storm she didn’t know that she’d survive. Each orgasm had been more powerful, more devastating.
This one would tear her apart.
“You can put your hands on me if that’ll help.”
Immediately, she dropped her bound hands down to his head, her fingers twisting in his short, dark hair, gliding over his forehead, his eyes. She pulled him closer, ignoring the prickle of his jawline. Murmuring against her, he buried a finger inside her again, holding deep, swirling, and tension mounted in her, humming higher, winding every muscle tighter.
“It’s not enough,” she cried. Emptiness gnawed at her, her muscles clenched like a vise. “I need you inside me!”
Adjusting his hand, he pressed harder, another finger. Sweat dripped in her eyes and her lungs locked. She felt it, the first tremor inside, growing, ripping her apart. “Conn, please!”
Her head slammed back, her body lost in the storm.
With his fingers still buried inside her, his thumb pressed against her tight anal opening.
A sheet of ice ripped down the back of her head and spine. She remembered her face buried in the pillow, Richard behind her, coming inside her like that. Pain had ripped through her. She’d cried, begged him to stop, that it hurt, and he’d never cared. He’d do it again, despite knowing she felt nothing but pain.
“No!” Scrambling, bucking, she fought in earnest. Great sobs ripping from her chest, it took her a moment to remember who she was with. Conn’s head jerked up, his gaze intense, all penetration stopped.
Conn.
“Ozymandias,” she gasped. “Ozy—”
He came up over her, his arms wrapping around her. “Shhh, darlin’. It’s all right. I’m here.”
But she didn’t want his arms. She didn’t want him to hold her and soothe away the fear screaming through her. He might coax her further next time. And for him, for Conn, she would go. She’d let him hurt her like Richard had, and then… She’d hate herself. And eventually him, as much as she hated her ex-husband.
“Let me up.”
“Rae—”
“You promised! I want to leave right now!”
What the hell had happened?
Teeth clenched tight, Conn let her get up, but every instinct bellowed at him to wrap her up tight against his chest and hold her until she told him what he’d done wrong. Obviously something horrific in her mind, because she twisted her wrists hard, ignoring the burn of silk.
He closed his hands over hers and softened his voice. “Shhh, hold on, darlin’. I’ll free you. Don’t hurt yourself.”
She held herself stiffly, her gaze averted, her body trembling. Her mouth was flat, her lips compressed, her cheeks splotched with dripping tears. Guilt and fear both churned in his gut. She couldn’t even look at him.
As soon as the scarf fell off, she dived for her dress and slid it over her head with trembling hands. If she walked out on him now…
He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he might never see her again. “We have to talk about this, Rae. I need you to tell me—”
“I don’t care what you need,” she retorted. Shaking her head, she frantically searched for her shoes. “This isn’t about you. This is about me. I have to protect myself.”
“You don’t have to protect yourself from me, Rae.”
Her sobs came louder. Bending down, she fished one of her shoes out from beneath the couch and laughed raggedly. “I don’t even remember taking them off. What else will I forget?”
His chest hurt so badly he couldn’t breathe. He reached for her, but she jerked back so hard she stumbled. If she’d only look him in the eye, he’d see the truth, whatever it was. She’d never been able to lie to him. Yet for the first time since he’d found her again, he was reluctant to know the truth.
If I lose her again…
Could he survive watching her run from him again? Could he bear to let her go if that’s what she wanted?
Cursing beneath his breath, he stood, holding his hands out at his side, fingers open, palms out, soothingly. “Rae, darlin’, look at me.”
She ran for the door. “No questions.”
Rushing after her, he slammed his palm on the door to keep it shut.
“I want to go!”
“Let me drive you. It’s dark.” Gently, he touched her back and she flinched, hunching away from him, even though all he did was help her zip the dress. She feared his touch. He’d lost all ground he’d gained in these past days. He’d failed the most important test of his life, and he didn’t even know the question which had sealed his fate. Despair made his voice rougher than he intended. “I’ll take you to Miss Belle’s. I need to make sure you’re safe.”
If only she would look at me!
Desperate, he eased closer, sliding his hand down her arm to pull her into his arms, but she skittered away. Shivering, she wrapped her arms tight around herself. She truly felt like she needed to protect herself. From him.
Fighting to keep his manner gentle and soft, he grabbed his black leather coat and dropped it over her shoulders. He murmured nonsense words to her, pleading with her to listen. If she’d close her eyes and feel the love in his voice, he could bring her back, but she refused to listen.
In her mind and heart, she’d already run.
He couldn’t survive another day without her, let alone an agonized stretch of years, wondering where she was, if she was all right, if he’d ever see her again.
As soon as he opened the door, she dashed for the car. She jumped inside and shut the door, her gaze locked away from his, her body rigid. One look, that’s all he needed. His fingers ached with the need to grab her and haul her against him. He knew she wanted him, needed his touch. She’d found pleasure in his arms.
How could they go from the hazed oblivion of pleasure to heartache so quickly?
Sliding into the driver’s seat, he turned to her. Silence had always worked before. Eventually, she’d break. She’d tell him what was wrong. Staring at her face so pale and fragile in the moonlight, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t break her will, not this time. Vibrating with tension, she would shatter if he pushed her. If he violated his promise to ask no questions, to take her home when she’d asked, he would lose her forever. The proof was carved in her face wet with tears.
His eyes burned and his hands trembled on the steering wheel, but he forced himself to turn away and look straight ahead. “We will talk about this, but later. When you’re ready. I said I wouldn’t push you, and I won’t. You’re more afraid than ever, which makes me sorrier than I can ever say. Rae, please, whatever it is, I’ll work it out. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
She huddled lower in the seat, refusing to answer.
She needed space. She needed time. He’d sworn to give her whatever she needed, but damn it all to hell, he’d never thought it would be this hard. He never thought she’d truly want to leave. He slammed the Mustang into gear and drove. “Fuck.”
Even worse than her silence was that nagging sense of brittleness in her. Every dominant instinct he possessed told him to drag her back inside. He’d tie her to his bed. He’d torment her with pleasure until she begged to tell him what he’d done wrong. He could break this resistance, of that he was s
ure, but she might never recover.
In many ways, this was the harshest, grimmest test she could ever give him.
Could he truly let her walk away if that’s what she needed? If that’s what she wanted?
The few minutes to Beulah Land stretched in a painful eternal silence. Every second tested his control to the breaking point. If she might shatter, he would explode with worry, fear, and rage at himself that he’d scared her yet again.
She kept her hand on the door handle. As he rolled to a stop in front of the old house, she shook off his coat and jumped out, not waiting for him to park.
“Rae!”
Without looking back, she ran up the stairs to safety.
She ran from him.
22
Dear Dr. Connagher:
I finally learned how to say two very important things.
No, and fuck you.
I found my courage.
I told Richard no, and I meant it. I told him I wanted a divorce, and I meant that, too. I told him to get the hell out of my house, and he did. I told him I’d shoot him if he came back, and I will.
I will, Conn. I swear to God I’ll kill him if he comes back.
I finally realized I had let Richard ruin my life. I let him control me to the point that I don’t even know who I am any longer. I finally realized that nobody’s going to stand up for me but me. Nobody’s responsible for me but me.
Of course, now, it’s too late.
The signs were there all along, written here on the computer screen in countless letters to you.
The little bursts of violence, the temper, the grudges. It was the little things, things I didn’t even notice as I gave them up one by one. He didn’t like my TV show, so I quit watching it. He wanted to watch baseball all the time, so now we watch baseball. He didn’t like my dress—sound familiar?—and so I changed.
I changed for him, killing myself a little bit every single day, and I didn’t even realize it. I’ve been mad for so long, at him, myself, even at you all these years. It kept building up inside me, I guess, and this time, I exploded, and it was over the stupidest thing.
I don’t even remember what started it. But it finally dawned on me exactly how much I’ve given up over the years for him. I’ve let him run me and Daddy’s business both into the ground. The financial stress combined with Daddy’s medical bills has been killing me, literally. I’m afraid I’ll give myself an ulcer worrying about it all, killing myself taking extra jobs to finance Richard’s latest toys.
I finally saw it all, all the years of control and manipulation. I told him no. For the first time in our marriage. And I meant it.
It felt damned good.
As every argument we’ve shared in the past year, this one disintegrated to sex, and I told him no again. No, I don’t feel desire for him any longer. No, I don’t feel pleasure when we have sex. NO, I’m not going to let him hurt me anymore. I hate it.
I HATE YOU, I told him.
I couldn’t stop myself, just like that day in your office. I pushed his buttons, deliberately. I pushed him over the edge. But he doesn’t have your formidable self control, Conn. You gave me a final over your desk and the best orgasm of my life.
Richard hit me.
No play acting, no seductive play, this was anger. I’ve got the bruises to prove it. He plowed his fist into my face and knocked me on my ass in the middle of my kitchen floor. All my weakness just disappeared. I jumped up and tore into him. I kicked his ass out of my house. I told him to go fuck himself, because he certainly wasn’t going to fuck me any longer.
Then I called the locksmith to come change the locks. I bagged his stuff and set it out on the porch. I called Mama and Uncle Frank and told them not to let Richard into Daddy’s office. And then I came in here and wrote to you.
I did it, Conn. I stood up for myself and said no. Now, I feel like crying, because out of all the people I’ve known in my entire life, it’s you I wanted to talk to. It’s your approval I want to earn.
It’s too late in many ways. It’s too late to save Daddy’s company. It’s too late to save myself. I’m ashamed how far I’ve fallen, all because I couldn’t say no.
Never again, Conn. I will never put myself in this kind of sinkhole again. I will never give up control of my life to another person.
Not even you.
~ Rae
She shut the bedroom door and leaned against it, shaking. Her face was wet, her neck, tears still dripping. At least that horrid whimpering sound didn’t come out of her throat any longer. She hated feeling weak.
“Are you hurt, Rae Lynn?”
Jerking her gaze up, she realized Miss Belle sat on her bed. Her faded strawberry hair was loose, hanging down her shoulders. Wrapped in an old-fashioned dressing gown, the old lady looked like she’d walked off the set of a Western or historical movie. She opened her arms.
Rae fell into them, sobbing.
Rocking gently, Miss Belle held her, humming softly under her breath. As her tears quieted, Rae listened to the lilting tune. Very Irish, she thought, about fairy rings and the Winter Queen.
“Better now?”
Nodding, Rae sat up, swiping her damp cheeks. “Thank you, Miss Belle. I’m sorry that I worried you.”
“Did he hurt you?” The old lady’s voice wasn’t hard or accusing, merely inquisitive. “Think about it, Rae Lynn, whatever scared you. Did he really hurt you?”
She closed her eyes, shivering. She remembered his mouth devastating her, his fingers gliding deep. Her inner thighs were rubbed tender by his unshaven cheeks, but nothing hurt. Even when he’d—
A wave of heat flooded her face, hot shame, even while ice dripped down her spine again. She shivered harder. “He didn’t hurt me. This time.”
“But you’re afraid he will next time?”
She nodded, staring down at her clenched hands in her lap. The old lady’s hand came under her chin, urging her gaze up.
“Someone hurt you. Badly. Yes?” When Rae nodded, the old lady’s eyes flashed and delicate jaws firmed. “Did Conn know you’d been hurt?”
She shook her head, trying to drop her gaze, but the old lady was insistent. “I hadn’t told him yet.”
“Why not?”
She swallowed hard, her eyes hot and burning. “I was ashamed.”
“Oh, my poor dear, why on earth would you be ashamed?” Miss Belle pulled her back against her breast, rocking her gently. “It’s not your fault someone hurt you.”
“It was my fault. I should have told him no.”
“Conn?”
“No.” Her voice was muffled against the old lady, but she didn’t sit up. She needed the comforting, even while she longed for Conn’s arms around her, his chest against her face, his heart beating beneath her cheek. “My ex-husband. I should have told him no. But I was too weak.”
Miss Belle made a low, harsh sound that drew Rae upright. “In my day, men who violated a woman’s trust were horsewhipped.”
A smile twitched on her lips. “Richard deserves it.”
“You’re far from weak, Rae Lynn, and you certainly deserve better than a cowardly bastard who abuses your trust.” Miss Belle locked her gaze on hers, refusing to let her hide. “My grandson would never hurt you like that, or so help me, God, I’d take a horsewhip to him myself. And then Colonel Healy would set up residence in his house to torment him until he crawled on hands and knees to kiss your feet and beg your forgiveness.”
Rae laughed shakily, picturing it.
Miss Belle patted her shoulder. “So it’s not really Conn you’re afraid of. It’s yourself.”
Her laughter shut off, her throat strangled. Rae nodded jerkily. “I love him too much, Miss Belle. I’d let him do anything he wanted. Worse than Richard ever thought about doing.”
“But Rae Lynn, dear, think about it. Would Conn ever ask you to do such a thing? Would he want to hurt you like that?”
His face rose in her mind, his brow deeply grooved, his eyes hard, his mouth
grim. He hadn’t been angry at her; he’d been angry at himself. Because she was afraid. He’d stopped, immediately, and tried to hold her. In a heartbeat, he’d gone from a smoldering, masterful lover to a concerned, apologetic man furious at himself for scaring her.
As soon as she’d given him the safe word, he’d stopped.
No. Before that. She remembered.
She’d told him no. And he’d stopped. Immediately.
I did it.
Remembering the look on his face, twisted with agony, regret, and self recrimination, she knew something else.
Hurting me is the last thing he wants to do.
Wide eyed, she stared at Miss Belle. “Oh.”
“Did you think a man like him would pine for five years over a chance encounter? He loves you more than breathing, more than the lovely poetry he’s studied nearly all his life. He would never knowingly hurt or scare you.”
Her stomach knotted and her lips trembled. The one thing he wanted most of all—her trust—she’d denied him by doubting him. He was probably worried as hell. “I should call him. No, I’ll go to him. I—”
“No.” Miss Belle stood up, her eyes gleaming dangerously. A small smile curved her lips. “Tomorrow’s Saturday, your day off. I want you to go home bright and early to visit your family. I’m going to be busy with Samantha all day, poor dear, although I learned something very interesting last night at the bar. Make sure your daddy is okay. Give them your signing bonus check which I put on your dresser tonight.”
“Miss Belle. Do you really think I’m going to take your money after you set me up?”
The old lady smiled that wide shark smile, her eyes gleaming with amusement and determination. “Absolutely. You’re my project manager, Rae Lynn, and I’m opening this Bed and Breakfast, even when you and Conn get married and have a dozen babies. You’re still my employee. And I say my employee should take the weekend off as contracted. Give Conn a day or two to cool his heels.”
The Connaghers Series Boxed Set Page 21