by Dale Mayer
She spun and ran to the exit. Outside the gym room, she ran up the stairs to the relative safety of her own hotel room. But there was no escaping the heat in her loins or the sweaty palms, and even worse, the images in her mind. She wanted what she couldn’t have, needed what her body could never get, and it was making her crazy.
Shame coursed through her. Not for feeling desire, not for wanting a man, but for giving him the impression that he could have what he had good reason to expect at this point. She hadn’t been leading him on, but it might seem like it to him. He was a sexually active, healthy male. She was a damaged, broken female.
The two did not fit together. Regardless of the images in her mind telling her she was a liar, she knew it was true. He needed something healthy and whole. She needed…to let go of a dream.
Then someone knocked on her door.
*
Kane slammed his fist into the wall.
Goddamn it. He felt like he’d just pulled off Tinkerbelle’s wings.
And he hadn’t meant to. She got to him. He wanted to be man enough for her to play with and not give a damn, but he wasn’t sure he could.
He wanted her like he hadn’t wanted a woman in a very long time.
And she might want him, and she might think she was ready for this, but she wasn’t, as he’d just proven.
Goddamn it.
Kane didn’t know what he was going to say to her. He’d barely had a chance to figure out what the hell was going on here. She wanted him and he wanted her. Didn’t that make for an easy solution? Apparently not. Women always complicated the simplest things.
The door opened in front of him, which surprised him. He’d figured she’d ignore him. Make their next meeting uncomfortable, where she’d retreat into herself and keep their relationship on a more formal level. Instead, she gave him a small smile, but the look of dread in her eyes made him realize she’d been churning up inside about this.
“Can I come in?”
Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Sighing, he pushed the door open slightly and stepped inside, almost forcing her to back up or be touched. Because that was really the problem here, wasn’t it? He’d been slow to get it. Everything they’d done had been without physical contact. She’d gone out of her way not to touch him while they were seated or standing; she walked around him to get to the same place in an effort to not accidentally touch him. He’d only recognized it down in the fitness room, because after days of doing this, he finally understood that she’d only touched him – or anyone – once.
When she’d reached for that drop of sweat.
And it had hit him. He figured he understood the problem. He hoped she’d tell him the truth, but he didn’t want to make her more uncomfortable. She had a look of doom on her face now as she led the way back into a close copy of his own hotel room. He avoided staring at the large bed in front of them. His body was too wired. It would be happy to head straight into sexual playtime, and as he’d had a hell of a time reining that back, seeing the wide expanse of a bed like this wasn’t helping.
She turned to face him.
“What did you want to say to me?”
Her tone was polite and cold as if she was waiting for a blow, her shoulders hunched and her hands stuffed into her jeans pocket. As if she could get through this. She could get through anything if she had to.
He sighed, his determination to get to the bottom of this draining down to his toes. Who could stay mad at Tinkerbelle? Someone had to be an asshole to want to kick the woman when she was already down. He just didn’t want her down for the wrong reason. Knowing he was likely to say the wrong thing but feeling the need to say something, he started with, “Look, I get that there is some trauma in your past. It’s probably why you’re here, since we’re all here for something.” He stopped. Her face had gone blank. Talk about giving an answer without saying anything.
He wanted to reach out and hold her. Give her a hug. Enclose her in his arms and tell her it would all be okay.
But she’d already learned that a touch wasn’t always nice. That hugs were often a constraint and that life wasn’t going to be okay. It would never be okay again.
“I get that you’ve been hurt, likely physically and emotionally, but I’ve never hurt anyone…especially a woman.” Her gaze flew up to his, shock the dominant expression.
He started again. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but the mixed signals were getting very confusing. But I want you to know that I got it. I’m slow and obviously thick, but I do understand. I’m not here to push you into doing something you don’t want to do or aren’t comfortable doing…”
She shook her head. “Maybe you aren’t, but…”
She stopped.
He waited.
She dropped her head and stared at the floor.
“Okay, well. Look, I’m a big boy. I can handle a little sexual tension, a session of raw sexuality that isn’t going where I’d like it to go.” Her eyes flipped up to stare at him, then dropped to the floor again.
“I’m not going to jump your bones because you gave me a come-on. I’m not a callow youth who doesn’t know his own limits, and I’d never do something you don’t want me to do.” When she continued to stare at the floor, he turned and walked back to the door before he stopped and turned back to face her. “I just wanted to let you know that I don’t hold anything against you. If you feel brave enough to take the next step in this…” he waved a hand. “Whatever this is…I might be interested.”
At her continued silence, he added, “Only, you’re going to have to make it clear, because I can’t take your actions like I would another woman’s. So if you are, then just be honest and say so.”
And he turned back to the door.
When he heard the single word, he stopped, puzzled. He turned back to face her. “What did you say?”
She took a deep breath and raised her eyes from the carpet to stare directly at him. In a tone of voice that said taking her medicine was good for her even if she didn’t want it, she only wanted the benefits of it, she repeated what she’d said. “So.”
His mind worked, trying to interpret her answer. Again, women seemed to make everything too complicated. “So, what?” he asked cautiously.
“I’m saying so.”
And then he got it. His eyes closed. “Meaning you are interested in taking this another step and are saying so?”
“Yes.”
So maybe this was simple after all.
“How far do you want to go?” He didn’t know what he was up against, but this was unlike any conversation he’d ever had with a woman. There was no romance, no soft words, and no seduction. There was heat and raw, dry passion that crackled between them, something he hadn’t ever felt. Not like this. It almost hurt, and the need was so strong it clawed at him. If it was the same for her, they’d burn up the sheets if they ever got there.
And again, she surprised him with her honesty. “I want it all,” she said, “but I don’t know what I can take.”
“Take?”
“I was raped a long time ago,” she said candidly, staring up at him. “I haven’t been held by a man since. I couldn’t. Not even my father.” She bowed her head. He could just imagine the pain for both her and her father. It was a big admission.
A man? Interesting turn. The rape only confirmed what he’d already suspected. He was damn sorry for it, but he couldn’t do anything about it at this point. “What about a brother?” She shook her head. “A good friend?”
“No. I have no males in my life, just two sisters and mother. My father and I talk on the phone, but he doesn’t live close now.”
He had to wonder at a life completely devoid of touch from the opposite sex. He had close relationships with his sister, brother, and both his parents. They hugged, touched, held hands; there were few physical boundaries between them because their relationships were founded on trust and respect.
She hadn’t had the benefit of any male in her life sinc
e she was raped. Somehow, that made it all so much worse. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “It’s been a long time.” Her gaze slid to the side. “You think it’s all good and you’ve dealt with it, but then something triggers the emotions and you realize it’s not something you ever get over, or ever forget. It’s not a sickness you can get rid of, but it is something you can deal with on a day-to-day basis. Like managing an incurable disease, it hurts at the oddest moments.”
“Like?”
She smiled sadly, “Like when I see a family with babies or loving couples and I understand it’s not for me. It’s for people who have normal, natural lives. Not for those of us who are broken.”
“You’re in pieces, but you can pull the pieces together.”
“But I’ll never be whole.”
“You can be better than you were,” he said seriously. “You can be the new you.”
Chapter 12
She couldn’t believe they were having this conversation or that she’d had the guts to open up. Everyone – her friends, therapists, and family – had all said it would happen at one time, but why with Kane?
Except that if there was a chance in the immediate future for her to be intimate with a man, it would be with Kane. At least he now understood. She wasn’t sure she did. What could he possibly want from her?
Except clearer signals, apparently.
He ran his fingers through his hair and stared at her, perplexed. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair, too, but he’d likely freak out.
“What?” He narrowed his gaze at her.
She dropped hers to the floor.
“Speak up. You have to be clear. I can’t be helpful if you don’t explain.”
She laughed. “Ha. If you understood what I was thinking, you’d be running like a crazy man.”
He tilted his head to one side. “Maybe not. Try me.”
“No, it’s stupid.” She spun on her heels and walked so she could look out the window.
“Nothing is ever stupid. If you don’t speak up, you will have missed an opportunity.”
She glanced over at him. “It’s just that I don’t know what your hair feels like.” She turned away from him again. “See, I told you. It’s stupid.”
“You never touch me. You walk around me like I’m someone to avoid, as if my touch is repellent.”
“No.” She spun away from the window. “Not because of that, because…I don’t know…I haven’t touched a man, like I said. It’s foreign and it’s instinctive to avoid touching.”
“But you want to touch?”
Tears filled her eyes, burning the back of her throat. They’d come on so hard and so fast, she hadn’t been prepared.
“Oh no. No tears. That’s not fair,” he protested.
She tried to smile, but the waterworks kept getting in the way. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
“Okay, so try this: just nod. Do you want to touch me?” He stood so big and so strong and so very capable of knocking her unconscious with a single blow, yet all she could think about was how much she wanted to touch him.
She nodded.
“See,” he said in a very gentle voice. “That wasn’t so hard.”
“Was too,” she muttered, but she smiled at him.
He walked over to a chair, flipped it around, and sat on it backwards, facing her. Sitting down, he was almost the same height she was. Then he dropped his head onto his arms resting on the back of the chair and said, “Go ahead.”
“Why are you doing this?’ she whispered. It was stupid. It was just a touch. But for her, it was a gift. A freedom she’d never had. And for him, this was what? An experiment? Wanting to help? Why was he here anyway? She hadn’t seen or heard him do anything that explained why he’d needed to come to a workshop like this. Or was he not an attendee? Had he come at Jenna’s request? No, not likely. He’d been at several of the evening lectures, so there was something going on in his psyche. The thing was, as much as she cared about that aspect, she didn’t care right now because she wanted what he offered.
Accepting it was a whole different thing.
“Because I can. Now, step closer and put your hand on me.” He laughed lightly. “I promise I’ve had a shower.”
She winced. A shower obviously hadn’t been an issue for her before.
“Here, I’ll make it easy on you.” And he held out his hand.
She stared at it. It was just a hand. She’d shaken a man’s hand before, hadn’t she? A doctor or a lawyer, a cop’s hand? She couldn’t remember, but she must have.
She reached out and placed her hand in his. His fingers gently closed around hers, caging hers in. It didn’t scare her. She tugged her fingers back experimentally, and he let her go. She took a deep breath. “Well, that wasn’t so bad.”
He chuckled. “Glad to hear it. Next?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“My hair, you said?”
He tilted his head, and like a moth to a flame, she couldn’t resist the lure. She reached out to touch the silky, black waves. Short but with a hint of curl around his ears, his hair felt…normal. She laughed. “I don’t know why I thought it would be anything else, but it feels normal.”
He peered up at her from his odd position. “I would hope so.”
She slipped her fingers through the waves, letting the curls wrap around her fingers. “It feels like a woman’s hair.”
“We do share similarities between the two sexes,” he mocked.
She smiled and continued to stroke her fingers through his hair. He shifted suddenly and she bolted backwards.
“Whoa, easy now. I was only changing my position a bit.”
She took a deep, shaky breath. “You startled me.”
“Yeah, I got that. But I’m not here to attack you. Remember that.”
“Easy to remember on a mental level, but years of fear on a visceral level make it harder to control these reactions.”
“That makes sense.” He studied her for a moment. “If you want to continue this experiment…” and he waited for a response from her. She held her hand to her chest and gave a sharp nod. “…then I have a suggestion.”
She stared at him and waited. “We’ll go to my room so you can leave any time you want to, instead of worrying about how to get rid of me here, and I will lie down and you can touch me as you want to.”
Her face flushed hot.
He cocked his head, a knowing look because of what had to be a chartreuse color on her face. “I wasn’t really thinking you were ready for that kind of touching.”
She shook her head frantically, but inside, her heart, mind, and hormones were screaming, “Yes!”
He stood up. “Come on. We don’t have tons of time here, so let’s do this.”
Before she’d had time to process it, they were standing inside his room. He walked to the bed, pulled off his shirt, and dropped backwards on his bed. “Go for it.”
*
This was going to kill him. What had possessed him to put himself through this torture? Tinkerbelle was so damn attractive, but she was a bambina in the world of sex. She wanted to experience all the good stuff but had only been dished piles of shit so far in life. He’d love to be able to help her do this, but at the same time, he could hear his brother’s voice in the background. “Dude, what has she got to do with your healing? You have a purpose there this week, and it doesn’t include Tinkerbelle.”
Except maybe it did.
As he lay there calmly, relaxed, waiting for her to get up the nerve to touch him, he realized he didn’t know what the answer was for himself, but he wasn’t stuffed full of rage at the moment. So that was an improvement.
Then he felt it.
Tinkerbelle’s gossamer wing – okay, so not likely, but it was as gentle as that. He felt his stomach muscles bunching under her gentle fingertips. She slid them across his ribs gently, following the grooves and bumps of his torso that she could reach from her side of the bed. He’d
have suggested she straddle him, but that would have sent her screaming. Too bad. The thought of her riding him was just about perfect. She’d have to be on top. As scared as she was, it would be the only way, at least the first time.
Once his mind started down that path, there was no stopping it. If he didn’t watch it, she’d end up with an eyeful and this whole experiment would take a horrible turn. He worked hard at tensing his thigh muscle to keep his erection from getting any bigger. Realizing she’d stilled made him peek under his closed lid. She was watching his thigh. She had no idea what he was doing or why, but in true form, she was fascinated by his muscles. He groaned lightly. “I’m not sure how this experiment is going, but maybe you could say something. I feel very exposed here.”
“Sorry,” she said almost absentmindedly. “Is that why you are tightening and clenching your thigh?”
He debated answering her. How much trust could she take?
Then he decided that in a safe environment as she was in, maybe she needed to hear the truth.
“No,” he said, and winced. “I’m trying to not let my sexual urges bring on a full erection. I doubt you’re ready to see that. Or touch that…” he added humorously.
Silence, except for her heavy breathing. He opened his gaze to see her eyes locked on his face, as if scared to look anywhere else. Her breathing was shallow, not quite hyperventilating but close.
“It’s okay. I’m fine. I am not about to lose control.”
She swallowed again.
And the devil made him add, “But you could if you felt like it.”
He didn’t think her eyes could get any bigger, wider, and rounder, but damn it, they did. Immediately, he was sorry. “I’m just kidding. I’m feeling a little odd lying here like this, so my attempt at humor was just to ease my discomfort level.”
She stepped back. “I’m sorry,” she said instantly.
He didn’t move, afraid she’d run. “Why?”