Out of Her League
Page 14
“I’m so embarrassed.” The understatement of the year. He’d seen her naked while she was freaking out; not exactly the scenario she’d fantasized about.
“Nothing to be embarrassed about, babe.” He tipped her chin up to meet his eyes. “Trust me, I was too distracted by the blood dripping down your arm to notice much of anything else.”
He might be lying, but it was sweet of him to try to put her at ease. Some of the mortification faded.
He left briefly and returned with a first-aid kit, unwound a strip of gauze with practiced ease and applied the dressing, then gave her one of the sleeping pills the doctor at the hospital had prescribed. She took it reluctantly, then willed it to kick in and send her into sweet oblivion. She was grateful for Rayne’s presence, the sense of security he gave her. Why oh why did she have to fall for someone so far out of her league?
Chapter Eleven
As planned, they left the following morning as the sun started to peek over the tops of the Coastal Mountains in the distance, entering the States at the Peace Arch border crossing and soon picking up the I-5 for Portland. Even though they were in a rented car and leaving the country, she couldn’t help sneaking glances in the side mirror to make sure they weren’t being followed. After her third peek, Rayne reached over and squeezed her uninjured shoulder, kneading the tight muscles.
“Our six is clear, darlin’. I’ve got it all covered, so you can relax,” he assured her with a note of amusement. “You’ll get a kink in your neck that way.”
Her face heated. “Sorry. I didn’t think I was being that obvious.”
He didn’t seem offended. “The chances of him crossing the border are pretty much nil, unless he’s a master of disguise with a fake passport—”
She cast him a worried look.
“—which isn’t likely, so I’d say we’ve got a better chance of being hit by lightning than running into him.”
Now that was more along the lines of what she wanted to hear. Her muscles eased and she let out a breath of relief before turning her attention to the gorgeous man whisking her away to a beachfront cottage. There was something indefinably masculine about the way he drove. The confidence and charisma he exuded was a definite female magnet.
Jake stuck his head over the edge of the seat to rest his furry muzzle on her shoulder and she reached back to scratch under his chin. The vet had confirmed that his injuries had been superficial and okayed him to come along on the trip.
At Portland they exited the I-5 and headed toward the coast, passing rolling farmland, vineyards and tall evergreen forest before the sign appeared welcoming them to Lincoln City. Rayne cruised past the shops and motels lining the main drag until the ocean at last came into view, taking her breath away. Sparkles of sunlight crested the waves breaking against an endless expanse of sand. They turned toward the water and pulled into the driveway of a white clapboard bungalow with a cherry red door and shutters, its front steps adorned with scarlet geraniums spilling from matching cobalt pots.
“Here it is,” he told her with a smile, and got out to unload their luggage.
Christa let Jake out of the car and followed Rayne up to the red front door. “It’s pretty,” she said, liking it already.
“Wait ‘til you see the view from the living room.” He unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping into the cream-tiled hallway. The house smelled a little musty, but it looked clean enough. In the second room on the left he set her bag down and she peered past him to the double bed covered with a green and blue pieced quilt.
“My room’s next door and the bathroom’s right across the hall.” He set his own bag in his room and led her through a yellow and white kitchen into the front room, painted a crisp white and lined with bookshelves. A bowl of seashells sat on the white crackled coffee tabletop. “I saved the best part for last.”
The rush of the ocean greeted her as she stepped toward the bank of picture windows overlooking the green-gray waves. “Wow. I could stare at this all day.”
“Yeah, I never get tired of that view.”
She believed it, listening to the hypnotic rhythm. “Jake’s going to love walking out there.”
“We can go for a walk after we eat, if you want. We might bump into Bryn. She lives down the beach, and I’ve spent practically every summer with her since I started coming down here with Nate’s family.” Affection warmed his voice.
She wasn’t sure what kind of affection it was, exactly, but she did know she didn’t want to be a fifth wheel. “You could take me to pick up groceries and stop by to see her. I’ll come back here and make us some dinner.”
He slipped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, making her heart trip. “No way. I’m taking you out for seafood and then we’ll go for a stroll. All that fresh, salty air will have us both sleeping like babies tonight.”
She doubted that, but didn’t say so.
After stocking up with groceries they drove to a seafood joint perched on the end of a pier and dined on halibut and steamed veggies while they admired the huge waves that thundered against the craggy black cliff jutting into the ocean like an outstretched finger. They crashed against the tumbled rocks at the bottom and spewed up geysers of white foam tinted by the sun’s golden-orange rays. Pulling her attention from the waves, she noticed people staring at her bruised face and she lowered her head in embarrassment.
Safely back at the cottage, Rayne built a bonfire on the beach and gathered roasting sticks for their marshmallows. Christa sat across the flames coals from him, her head resting on a driftwood log. Enjoying the warmth of the fire on her face, she absorbed the sky’s transformation from tangerine to crimson and purple, soothed by the muted thunder of the ocean. Smoke mingled with the smell of the sea, taking her back to happy childhood memories of seaside hikes with Michael.
“Pretty nice, huh.” Rayne raised his beer bottle in salute. “Nate first invited me down here with his family the year I turned fourteen. I got to be too much for my mom to handle so she was happy enough to send me here with Nate until I moved in with him. And I’ve managed to come back every year since. I love it.”
“I can see why.” The beating waves were almost lulling her to sleep.
Then she noticed a lone figure materializing out of the mist, heading toward them. The trim curves of the silhouette left no doubt it was a woman.
Rayne followed her gaze and jumped up from the campfire with a grin. “Hey!” he called, heading toward the newcomer, leaving Christa behind.
Something squeezed in her chest as he wrapped the woman up in his arms, lifting her off the ground and swinging her around in an exuberant circle. Then he draped a possessive arm around her shoulders and they started back toward the fire.
“Hey, look who found me. This is Bryn. Bryn, Christa.”
Bryn’s clear, dusky skin was made for firelight. The flames reflected off the shiny sable hair streaming down her back and gleamed in her dark eyes. “Hi.” Christa held out her hand.
Bryn shook it firmly. “Good to meet you.” She made herself comfortable, helping herself to a beer and leaning against Rayne’s side.
As they reminisced, Christa couldn’t help envying their mutual affection and the easy camaraderie between them. And, to be truthful, they looked good together, like a beautiful couple you’d see on the cover of a magazine. For lack of something better to do, she skewered another marshmallow and toasted it, then consumed it and several others, just to keep her hands busy. Despite Rayne’s efforts to include her in their conversation, she felt out of place and waited only until the next pause in their conversation before getting to her feet.
“Well, I’m beat, and I ate too many marshmallows.” She made a sickly expression. “I’m going to head in. Nice to meet you, Bryn.”
Rayne jumped up, caught her arm. “You okay? Want me to walk you back?”
“No, I’m good.”
He frowned but let her go. “Okay. I won’t be long.”
She wav
ed away his concern. “No, it’s fine, take your time.”
She headed back to the cottage alone, feeling colder with each step, and not just because she’d left the heat of the fire behind.
****
Rayne watched her retreating figure until she was safely inside.
“Your friend’s pretty shy,” Bryn remarked. “Been dating her long?”
“We’re not dating.” Not exactly. He actually didn’t know what the hell they were doing.
“So what’s she doing here, then?”
He took a sip of beer, wondering if he should go and make sure she was safe. She’d taken off in a hurry, so maybe something had spooked her? Or maybe she’d felt uncomfortable about Bryn crashing the bonfire. “She needed a vacation.”
Bryn eyed him. “With you?”
“Yes.”
She drained her beer and reached for a marshmallow. “Was she in a car accident or something? She looks like somebody’s been using her as a punching bag.”
His eyes snapped to hers, a warning in them. “Something like that, yeah.”
Bryn winced. “Ah. So she’s not your latest fling?”
“No,” he said emphatically, jaw tensing. Did fucking everyone think he used women like that?
“What happened to her?”
He fidgeted with the bottle. “She was assaulted and nearly raped by a stalker who hasn’t been caught yet.”
Bryn’s brows crashed together. “Jesus. She okay?”
“No.” And it damn near killed him to feel so helpless about it.
“Oh.” She put her arm around him in silent comfort.
“I want to kill that son-of-a-bitch, Bryn. I want to kill him slowly, with my bare hands.” She rubbed his back slowly and he let her. “She’s the sweetest, kindest, bravest person I’ve ever known.”
“Wow. That’s saying a lot, coming from you.”
Yeah, it was. “And she’s also vulnerable and too trusting for her own goddamn good. It pisses me off that some sick asshole could do this to her.”
“So you’ve got to help her.”
He snorted. “Wish I knew how.”
She rested her head against his. “You will,” she said simply. “I have yet to see you fail at anything you set your mind to, especially when it comes to a woman.”
That made him feel a little better, but not much.
Together they watched the dying fire shimmer and crackle against the night sky.
****
Face down on her bed, Christa steeled herself against him, writhing to free her hands, the rope burning, chafing the insides of her wrists and ankles. His chilling gray eyes gleamed down at her, evil and hungry. And always his voice haunted her, husky, rasping in her ear, making her quake.
He lifted the knife to the side of her throat. “No one’s coming to save you this time.”
The blade glinted in the moonlight streaming through the window. She shrank from it, whimpering, the dull side scraping against her cringing flesh as he slashed through her clothes. She flailed, screamed, begged for mercy, but he had none.
“I can hurt you in so many ways,” he told her, “and I’m not even as big as your boyfriend. Imagine the damage a guy his size could do.”
She cried out. Rayne would never hurt her, never demoralize or terrorize her.
“You wouldn’t have a chance against him.”
He tried to force himself inside her. At the realization of his impotence he started screaming obscenities, pounding her head, her back. She tried to buck him off, eliciting a guttural snarl. His fang-like teeth punctured the skin of her shoulder, making her scream.
Christa jerked awake covered in sweat, heart thudding, breath sawing in and out of her starved lungs. She sat up and flipped on the bedside lamp with trembling fingers, gulping in air.
You’re in Oregon with Rayne. You’re safe.
She sat there numbly until Jake came and propped his chin on her legs in silent comfort. She got up and peered out the bedroom window, scanning the yard for movement, but saw nothing, heard nothing except her own ragged breathing and the muted roar of the ocean.
Rayne was right there, on the other side of the wall. Maybe she should just go to him.
No. She didn’t want him to see how bad things had gotten. Time to suck it up, just like she had always done. Her lungs pulled in a deep, shuddering breath, let it out slowly.
You’re an adult, not a frightened little kid. Are you going to let Seth win this part of it too? Deal with it.
The sharp words slapped some calm into her.
When she finally felt safe enough to crawl back between the sheets and pull the covers up to her chin, she stared at the lamp beside her, somewhat reassured by the way its warm glow chased the shadows into the corners and held them there, keeping evil at bay. For the first time in years, she went to sleep with the light on.
Sliding into a fitful slumber, she heard Seth’s voice whispering in her ear, saw him raise that wicked, gleaming blade. This time she woke with a scream trapped in her throat.
****
He was on his freaking vacation and he couldn’t get one decent night’s sleep. Rayne thumped his pillow, sick of tossing restlessly. He couldn’t shut his damn brain off. He imagined Christa stretched out on the bed in the next room, wearing nothing but a tank top and shorts, her hair spread across her pillow, how she would curl into him if he slipped in beside her. The images filtered through his head, torturing him. It made him sick with rage to think of anyone hurting something so beautiful. And she was beautiful, inside and out.
He was still staring at the ceiling when a noise came from her room. A glance at the clock told him she should have been sleeping soundly for hours now. He got up and was standing in his open doorway, debating whether he should go in and make sure she was okay, when she padded into the hallway.
“Hey, darlin’.” She jumped. He leaned against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest. “You all right?”
Her hand was pressed over her heart. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t. I couldn’t sleep either.”
She sighed, touching her fingertips to her temples. “I need some aspirin.”
Even in the dimness he could see that her eyes were swollen from crying, reddened and underlined by dark circles. He took her by the shoulders and her gaze dropped to her bare feet.
“Do you want to talk? It might help.”
She hesitated. “I dreamt part of it over again. Twice.” She shuddered. “I can’t talk about it yet. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He led her into the kitchen, found some Tylenol and poured her a glass of water. Her hands fidgeted with the glass, the scraping on the countertop the only sound. “This might sound crazy to you,” she said slowly, “but I can’t seem to feel clean anymore. Even with all the scalding hot showers and anti-bacterial soap.”
Didn’t sound crazy at all. “I wish I knew how to make it go away.” He felt even more helpless when her head dropped into her hands. “But I can help get rid of that headache. Come with me.”
In the living room he perched on the edge of the couch and motioned for her to sit on the floor in front of him. Then he swept her hair over one shoulder and ran his fingers through the silky mass. Her sweet, clean scent drifted up to tease him.
“Here,” he murmured, “lean against me.” He eased her shoulders back. “Now close your eyes.”
She stiffened at the intimate contact, but didn’t pull away. His legs bracketed her body, her head resting against his stomach. She sighed when he began to soothe the tension in her neck with his fingers, careful to avoid the bandage near the top of her right shoulder blade. He wanted to lull her, turn off that busy brain of hers for a while.
The movement of his hands grew languorous, and she let her head loll against him, absorbing the comfort of his nearness. He relished the caress of her dark hair, the softness of her skin. That she trusted him so much after all she had been through amazed and humbled him.
With Christa it was different. She’d awoken something in him he hadn’t even known was there. The problem was how to go about convincing her he cared. She was well aware of his history and would no doubt take any move he made toward her as purely physical. Silvery words and calculated touches would only scare her away, especially after the ordeal she’d just suffered. So he was forced to use a tactic previously foreign to him when it came to the opposite sex—patience.
For weeks now his daydreams had been filled with images of him making love to her. Very hot, very intense lovemaking. He could almost hear her quiet moans, his whispered name, imagine her eyes closed, her face caught with the strain of ecstasy. It might never happen now, after what that bastard has done to her. Rayne swallowed, her hair caressing his wrists as he massaged the back of her neck.
If she had any idea what he was thinking right now she would probably leap up and run from the room. That was the dilemma. Between what Teryl had said and the way Christa looked at him he knew she was attracted to him and that she cared about him. But thanks to her asshole ex-boyfriend the very idea of sex scared the hell out of her, even before she’d been attacked. And so far, she seemed oblivious to his feelings for her. Normally he would just lay it all out there, but he was sure she’d bolt if he did. He’d never felt so unsure of himself and he hated the weakness, the loss of control.
She stifled a yawn and he knew she must be exhausted. He pulled her onto the couch and patted his lap. Again, she hesitated.
In the end she stretched out beside him, letting him cradle her head on his shoulder, and closed her eyes as she snuggled closer. The small victory was heartening and he had to swallow a groan at the feel of her soft curves cuddled against him.