“Why?”
“I’m going to be sitting in filthy water.”
“Getting clean before you bathe kind of defeats the purpose, don’t you think?”
“Yes, but I’ve never been this dirty before.”
“You can rinse off after.”
The tub was already half full, so she didn’t argue. He wondered if she was nervous, too. She knelt and dipped her hand into the water, testing its temperature.
“Warm enough?”
“Yes.”
“How are we going to do this?”
She studied the cramped space. “You can sit there, next to the tub. I’ll get in and let my arm rest on the rim.”
He hadn’t been thinking that far ahead. His mind was stuck on the prebathing process. What should he do while she took off her clothes? He swallowed hard as she shut off the water. Setting a towel on the sink, she placed the toiletries inside the tub and adjusted the glass doors. Then she raised her hands to undo the tie at her neck. When the bodice of her dress fell away, she clutched it to her chest.
Owen couldn’t turn around politely because that would make it more difficult for her to move her arms. Offering to help would just tangle their limbs together, and he wasn’t adept with female garments.
He stared at the floor, his throat working in agitation.
Penny abandoned modesty and let go of her dress, reaching behind her back. His right hand followed. He smothered a moan as his knuckles skimmed her bare skin. She released the clasp of her strapless bra. It didn’t fall down, so he figured the lingerie was sort of...molded to her body. Now she needed only to push off the loosened clothing, along with her panties, and climb in the tub.
He clapped his free hand over his eyes, not trusting himself to avoid temptation.
She laughed softly at this action, but maybe it put her at ease, because she finished undressing. When he sensed her weight shift, he shuffled a little closer. The water splashed as she stepped into the stall. She slid the door closed, leaving space for their cuffed wrists. He dropped his hand and opened his eyes, assuming it was safe.
Mistake.
The beveled glass blurred her image like an old oil painting. Even so, the sight of her naked form was highly erotic. He could make out the shape of her beautiful breasts, full and lush with dusky peaks.
Groaning, he looked away.
“Can you see me?” she asked.
“I don’t... I can’t...”
“You can’t what?”
“I can’t answer that.”
With another low laugh, she sank into the water, forcing him to sit down on the floor. “Oh, my God, this feels good.”
Gaze averted, he searched for an accommodating position. He couldn’t twist around, so he ended up sitting cross-legged and facing the wall, his right elbow bent and his hand gripping the shower door. The urge to glance sideways, through the narrow opening, was hard to resist. He turned his head and stared at the sink cabinet until his eyeballs burned.
The water sloshed gently as she shifted, making a sound of pleasure. He tried not to think about her bare breasts, wet and round and bobbing above the surface, but it was a lost cause. He pictured her soaping them generously, her mouth a sexy moue, dark nipples visible beneath the frothy bubbles.
Did women even wash their breasts like that, outside of porno movies? He lathered his armpits, not his pecs, but girls were probably more fastidious than guys.
Focus on something else.
“I’m sorry about Shane,” he said, clearing his throat. “He’s a jerk.
“Has he always been that way?”
“Pretty much.”
Penny squeezed his hand and let it go. “I have to wash my hair.”
He listened as she slid lower into the tub, soaking her head. Then she came back up, water streaming from her hair. Her wet hands brushed his as she opened the shampoo bottle, pouring the liquid into her palm. A light floral fragrance tickled his nostrils, accompanied by the scrunching sound of bubbles. When she submerged to rinse, her left arm slipped, pulling his hand into the stall.
The awkward angle wrenched his wrist. He aligned his body toward hers with a wince and accidentally pushed the shower door open a little more. She sat up again, giving him an unfettered view of her soap-slick curves.
“Sorry,” she gasped, returning her left hand to the rim of the tub.
Incapable of speech, he struggled to move his gaze from her chest. Heat suffused his face and neck, climbing to the roots of his hair. He turned his head and studied the toilet as if it contained the mysteries of the universe.
Penny finished rinsing and stayed still for a few minutes. Her inactivity didn’t calm his raging hormones or erase the Playmate-worthy visual she’d just treated him to. It danced inside his skull, sending a rush of blood to his groin.
“How old is your brother’s son?” she asked.
“Eleven.”
“He’s the one you visit in Salton City?”
“Yes.”
“You never told me his mother was a...dancer.”
It wasn’t the sort of information he’d volunteer in passing.
“Have you ever been to a strip club?”
“No.”
“You sound strange.”
“Strange?”
“Gruff.”
He adjusted his straining fly, unsure what to say. “I’m aroused.” Why hide the obvious? His hard-on wasn’t going away.
“Does it hurt?”
“Not really.”
“It hurts me,” she said, shifting her legs.
He froze. “It does?”
“It’s like a throbbing ache.”
Was she toying with him? Next she’d be complaining about how stiff her nipples were. His cock swelled harder, demanding to give them both satisfaction.
“I want you to touch me...but you never do.”
“You think I don’t want to?”
“Do you?”
“Yes,” he ground out.
“Since when?”
“Forever.”
“After the earthquake?”
“Yes.” He’d been a sick bastard, even then.
“What’s stopping you?”
“I already told you.”
“What about before you took the job? That night we danced at Sam’s wedding, I practically handed you my panties.”
He flinched at the exaggeration. Had she, really? He couldn’t believe he’d been so dense. “I had no idea you were interested.”
“If you had, would you have acted on it?”
“No.”
“Because you think I’m too good for you?”
Now that he’d had a chance to reflect, he understood her annoyance. She didn’t appreciate him making decisions for her, like her father always did. And maybe Owen had been hiding behind excuses. “You are, but that’s not the only reason.”
“What is?”
Shame rose up, threatening to choke him.
“I’ve seen the way you avoid women. How you react to touch.”
He didn’t bother to point out that he avoided men also. She was talking about dating and sexual relationships, which intimidated him more than casual male contact.
“Were you that way before prison?”
“No. I was sketchy and cautious, but not like this.”
“Did you have girlfriends?”
“Just hookups.” Drunk, fumbling encounters with girls as troubled as he was. Shane used to take him to Slab City, a huge parking lot full of squatters and vagrants who flocked to the Salton Sea every winter. “Ass City,” he’d called it.
When he didn’t offer more information, she finished bathing and sat up. “I should get out before I wrinkle.”
“Do you still want to rinse off?”
“No, it’s too much of a hassle with these handcuffs on.”
He grabbed the towel from the sink and unfolded it, glad he no longer had an embarrassing erection to deal with. They both stood at the same time. He managed
to keep his eyes above her neck as she pushed aside the glass door and stepped out of the stall. She couldn’t get the towel wrapped around her body, so she just held it to her front.
“I need both arms free to put on the clean dress,” she said, frowning. “I didn’t think of that until now.”
“Here,” he said, taking off the T-shirt he’d donned at his mother’s house. It dangled on the cuffs between them, inside out. He moved the sleeve up her arm and put the collar over her head. She let go of the towel, slipping her hand through the opposite sleeve. The hem was long enough to cover the important parts.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Her gaze traveled up his bare chest. “You have blood on your neck.”
He glanced at his reflection, spotting the dried rivulet that snaked down into the hollow of his throat. Dark bruises arced over his rib cage, there were cuts on his back, and his knuckles were swollen. His face was all stubble and scrapes and sharp angles.
She wanted this beat-up, tattooed miscreant to touch her?
An ugly voice whispered that his low-class persona was part of the draw: Daddy would never approve.
“Maybe I’ll brush my teeth before you shower,” she said.
“Be my guest.”
They stood side by side in front of the sink while she applied a dollop of toothpaste to the small toothbrush. She cleaned her teeth with practiced motions. His gaze was drawn to her jiggling breasts, soft and round beneath the worn cotton. When she was finished, she leaned forward to rinse her mouth. The hem of the T-shirt rode up in back, revealing the fleshy undersides of her bottom.
“Do you want to?”
Owen jerked his gaze up. “What?”
She straightened and readied the toothbrush for him, leaving it on top of the sink. He used his left hand, glancing sideways at her while he brushed. She watched him spit and rinse, her eyes gleaming.
There must be something wrong with him, to find this sexy. He didn’t know if it was the enclosed space or the handcuffs or the charming domesticity of the scene. Maybe it was the way she looked in a man’s T-shirt, her long legs bare. Suddenly he was desperate for a taste of her. Like this, with him dirty and her clean. He wanted to give in to every animal instinct, take her in every filthy way he could imagine.
She wanted it, too. She’d said as much, and desire radiated from her. He could see it in her trembling lips and the fluttering pulse at the base of her throat. Rich or not, none of those Ivy League boys made her feel like this. They hadn’t fought for her, hadn’t killed for her. Right or not, he had, and he would.
Maybe she was excited by the idea of him being rough and uncivilized. He faced her, resting his hip against the edge of the sink.
“You have a little toothpaste,” she said, touching the corner of his mouth.
“Did you get it?”
She leaned closer, as if she might lick the spot. He didn’t give her a chance. Burying his hand in her damp, tangled hair, he covered her mouth with his. No chaste kiss would satiate the beast inside him. It roared for a deep plunge and total possession. She parted her pretty lips, and he delved inside.
He groaned at the sensation. She was so sweet and hot and fresh, so ripe. Her breasts settled against his chest as his tongue explored the silky depths of her mouth. All of the blood in his body rushed south, swelling him to full arousal in seconds. He tried to reach beneath the hem of the T-shirt, intent on filling his hands with her gorgeous ass, but the cuffs got in the way, tugging on his wrist.
And that was all it took to trigger him.
He broke contact with her mouth, traveling back to that horrible moment. Facedown on the shower floor, his wrists trapped in a cruel grip. Fists pummeling him, smacking his wet flesh. Nose bloody, cheek crushed against the tile, legs forced apart.
Then he snapped out of it, returning to the present. Penny was watching him in concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Fuck,” he said, stepping away from her. Avoiding her gaze.
“Is it me?”
“No.”
She flinched at his sharp tone.
“It’s not you,” he said, hating himself for snapping at her. “It’s definitely not you.”
“Is it...something that happened to you in prison?”
He couldn’t bring himself to answer. A few seconds ago, he’d been shaking with the need to touch her. Now he was just shaking.
“Have you tried to work through it? With a woman, I mean?”
Dragging his left hand through his dirty hair, which still had flecks of gunk in it, he leaned against the sink. He couldn’t avoid this conversation forever. “I went out with one of Janelle’s friends once.”
Her brows drew together. “When?”
“About a year ago.”
“What happened?”
“Not much,” he said ruefully.
“Was she pretty?”
“Yes.”
“And willing?”
He nodded, flushing at the memory. They’d had a few drinks at the bar to break the ice. She’d been sweet, but not too sweet to take him home. “We went back to her place. One thing led to another, and we...almost had sex.”
“What went wrong?”
“I froze up, just like this.”
“So you stopped?”
“Of course.”
“How did she react?”
“She was pretty nice about it.”
“Did you tell her why?”
“No. I think she understood.”
“Then what?”
He didn’t want to go into specifics.
“Did you try again?”
“Not really.”
“Did she touch you?”
“No.”
“Did you touch her?”
“No.”
“What then?”
“She touched herself while I watched.”
Her eyes searched his face, not judging. “And you liked that?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see her again?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know,” he said, fumbling for an answer. “I was embarrassed. I didn’t want to lead her on. I felt...nothing for her.”
She fell silent for a moment. “Is that why you went out with her?”
“Probably.”
“Is it the same reason you avoid me?”
He nodded, swallowing hard. “She didn’t matter to me. You do. I can’t stand the thought of failing with you. Of being weak and helpless in front of you.”
“I’d never see you as weak, Owen.”
“But that’s how I feel when I have a flashback. I can’t move. I have no control. I’m powerless.”
“Have you ever told anyone what happened?”
“No.”
“Talking about it might help.”
He knew she was right. The conversation had already sucked all of the sexual energy from the room. If he tried to touch her again, he might have another episode. Either way, no one was getting laid.
Story of his fucking life.
She sat down on the edge of the tub, pulling the plug to drain it. He took a seat opposite her, on the closed toilet lid.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything, or just a little bit. Whatever you feel like sharing.”
“The first few weeks were tough,” he said, thinking back. “I’d already spent several months in jail, but I wasn’t prepared for prison. I thought no one would notice me if I kept my head down and my mouth shut. I was wrong.”
She grasped his hand and held it tight.
“I was only eighteen when I got arrested, and the older guys prey on young men. I was smaller then. Skin and bones, from doing drugs. I couldn’t defend myself. During my second week, a group of guys...” He broke off, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
Just say it. Get it out, get it over with.
“It’s okay,” she said. “You can tell me.”
“A grou
p of guys caught me in the shower. The guard didn’t come to help me, so maybe he’d been bribed.” He paused for a minute, pressure building behind his eyelids. He couldn’t look at Penny, couldn’t bear to see her reaction. His heart thudded with panic, like the attack was happening in real time. “I refused to perform oral sex. I don’t know if that made any difference. They wanted me to fight. They held me down and...took turns...raping me.”
“How many?”
“Three. I sort of blacked out, or just faded away. It was like I was watching from a distance. I woke up in the infirmary.”
“Did you tell anyone?”
“They already knew.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice cracking.
He nodded bleakly. “It happened more than once. I didn’t fight as hard the second time. I thought it might hurt less if I cooperated. It didn’t.”
She made a funny sound, like a strangled sob.
“I went to the Aryan Brotherhood for protection. I didn’t give a fuck about racial equality or anything else at that point. I wanted to look as tough and ugly as possible. I’d have put a swastika on my forehead to prevent another attack.”
She wept for him, maybe because he couldn’t weep for himself. He watched her cry, feeling totally disconnected from his emotions. “I’m not proud of what I did for the gang, but I can’t say I was a reluctant participant. I channeled my anger into violence. I felt stronger every time I won a fight. Once I...acted as lookout while they raped someone else. He screamed for help, and I ignored it. As long as it wasn’t me, I didn’t care.”
Her face was red and crumpled, her cheeks wet with tears. He grabbed some toilet paper off the roll and handed it to her.
She dabbed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I’m glad you told me.”
“You don’t look glad,” he said uncharitably.
“Do you feel better?”
He felt nothing. “I think I’ll shower now.”
“Don’t,” she choked.
“Don’t what?”
She closed the distance between them. Taking a seat on his thigh, she framed his chin with her right hand and forced him to meet her gaze. “Don’t shut me out.”
“There’s nothing you can say to make it better, Penny.”
Badlands Page 17