by Tara Bond
I folded my arms around me. As much as I wanted to go with him, it just seemed too hard. All I could think about was the conversation we needed to have about what had happened to me, and how I’d then have to deal with his reaction. He’d never be able to look at me in the same way again—to him I would always be a victim. And I couldn’t stand the thought of that.
I looked up at Richard. My hesitation said it all. He must have seen the decision on my face, and I watched as his expression turned from hope to resignation. His hand closed into a fist and dropped to his side.
“All right, then.” He sighed wearily. “If this is what you want.”
I dropped my eyes to the beer-stained carpet, unable to watch as he turned and walked towards the door, away from me and out of my life forever. I felt a wave of emptiness wash over me, a loneliness that was almost palpable. I could feel my heartbeat speeding up, as panic engulfed me.
“You ready to get out of here?” The voice intruded on my thoughts. I looked up to see Gavin standing above me, his hands stuffed into his jean pockets. He swayed a little, clearly half-cut. I knew exactly what he was offering me: a night of drunken, meaningless sex. Safe in its familiarity.
And then it struck me—what the hell was I doing? Was I really so damaged that I was prepared to settle for a lifetime of empty nights over the chance of something real with someone who cared about me? Because if I let Richard walk away now, wasn’t that like allowing Toby to win again? Did I really want him to continue having that power over me?
As Richard had said, this was my choice.
“Wait.” My voice rang out across the bar, over the music and the chatter. As I got to my feet, customers sitting nearby stopped talking and turned to look at me. Richard reached for the handle of the door, appearing not to have heard me. “Richard, wait.”
He paused. I was already running towards him as he turned back. I saw his eyes light up as he realised that I’d changed my mind. A split second later, I flung myself at him. His arms closed around me, lifting me clean off the floor as he swept me up in his embrace. I buried my face into his broad shoulder, as he kissed the top of my head. And behind us, I heard the pub burst into a round of applause.
* * *
Richard drove us back to his apartment. He called my parents before we set off to let them know that he’d found me and I was safe, but after that, we didn’t speak. It was as though he realised that whatever we had to say to each other, it wasn’t something that could be discussed in the car.
At his place, Richard made coffee, while I perched on the edge of the couch. I knew I should be using this time to come up with a good way to tell him about Toby, but somehow the exact words were eluding me. How did you tell someone something like that? My only experience so far had been with my sister, and look how well that had turned out. What if Richard rejected me too?
But it was too late to worry about that now, I realised, as Richard carried over two mugs of steaming coffee, and set them on the low table.
“So,” he said, as he joined me on the sofa, “are you ready to tell me what all that was about tonight?”
I took a long sip of coffee, as he left his untouched. Finally I set the mug down on the table. I was aware of Richard studying me, waiting for me to speak. In coming with him tonight, I’d made an implicit decision to be up front with him. There was no stalling any longer.
“Yes,” I said finally. “Yes, I am ready to tell you about tonight.” I raised my eyes to meet his. “I just hope you’re ready to hear it.”
* * *
It was easier telling the story this time around. Richard listened silently as I spoke. I started at the beginning, and ran through all the events of that summer seven years ago, like I had done with Dr. Milton, so he could understand exactly what had happened in the lead up to the night of Kate’s twenty-first birthday.
As I started to talk about meeting Toby in the barn, I could see his face begin to darken, as it slowly dawned on him what had happened to me. As I reached the part where Toby had held me down, he got up from the couch, and started to pace the floor like a caged animal, cracking his knuckles in a primal way that seemed almost alien compared with his usually composed self.
“And you told your sister this tonight?” he asked, once I’d finished. I nodded in confirmation. “And she didn’t believe you?” I nodded again, and he swore loudly.
I raised an eyebrow. “Wow,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “I didn’t realise you knew words like that.”
But he didn’t appear to hear me. Instead, he pulled out his phone.
I frowned up at him. “What’re you doing?” I tried to keep the nervousness out of my voice.
“I’m going through my contact list.” Richard spoke with quiet deliberation, but I could hear the fury beneath his carefully controlled words. “I’m going to call that piece of scum and find out where he is. And then I’m going to end him.”
My heart began to pound in my chest. That was the last thing I wanted. As much as I liked the fact that he hadn’t questioned my story, had accepted every word I said as true and was primed to avenge me, that wasn’t what I wanted right now. Whatever I decided to do about Toby, I knew I needed to give it some thought.
“No, Richard.” I spoke forcefully enough that he stopped what he was doing and looked over at me. I got up from the couch and walked to him. Reaching up, I placed my hands on either side of his face, holding him fast, so that he was forced to look directly at me. “That’s not what I want.”
He frowned down at me, his eyes searching mine, as he seemed to be trying to process what it was I was asking of him. I could feel the tension in his body, his instinctive reaction to what I’d told him. But I kept hold of him, my gaze remaining locked on his as I silently pleaded with him to do as I asked. Gradually his breathing began to ease.
“All right,” he said finally. He slipped his phone back in his pocket, and reached up and covered my hands with his own, gently pulling them away from his face. “What do you want from me, then? Because I’ll do anything you ask.”
I smiled softly at that. I’d worried about how he would react to hearing that I’d been raped—that he might pity me, or feel embarrassed, or no longer know how to act around me. But instead he was just offering to be whatever I needed right now.
And I already knew what that was.
“I want us to finish what we started last Saturday night,” I said.
Hearing those words, Richard’s body went very still. His brow furrowed as he fully digested what I meant. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea? After everything you’d gone through tonight, maybe you should take a few days to think things through. Because, believe me, you’ve got nothing to prove—”
“I know that. But it’s what I want. In fact, it’s what I need,” I corrected myself.
I’d realised that tonight. My best revenge on Toby would be to prove to myself that I could move past what he’d done—that I could be with someone I cared about, and who cared about me.
I looked up at Richard from lowered lashes. “Right now I need you to help me forget everything. Do you think you can do that?”
Chapter 29
Richard didn’t answer. It took me a moment to figure out why. As I met his eyes, I saw the doubt there. He didn’t want to deny my request, but he also didn’t believe I meant it. He feared it was too soon. While he would never say no, he wasn’t going to make the first move either. It was up to me to show him how much I wanted this.
I took a step towards him. He eyed me warily. His lips parted a little, and I almost expected him to voice his objection. But he didn’t say anything. Instead he stood there, as still as possible, waiting for me to take the lead.
I placed my hands on his shoulders, wanting to feel the solidness of him in the hope that it might ground me, and then I tilted my chin up and began to kiss him.
My lips were soft and light against his, almost tentative. For all my bravado, even I wasn’t sure whether this was a goo
d idea. But as his mouth opened to me, I felt something unexpected—warmth flooded my belly, and a sudden desire for more seized me. My kiss deepened, but even as Richard responded, I noticed that his hands stayed firmly by his sides. He was leaving this to me, making sure I was comfortable with everything, and I felt a surge of affection for this man who cared so much.
I pulled away a little, determined to take things slow, so I wouldn’t ruin the moment this time. I felt in complete control as I ran my hands over his strong shoulders and down over his biceps. And still he didn’t move so much as a muscle. Emboldened, I began to unbutton his shirt. My hands shook a little as I pulled it open to reveal his ripped chest. I remembered exactly what he looked like from that time I’d walked in on him in his office. He still had that perfectly defined six-pack, like a model in an underwear advert. And then I froze, as I spotted something I hadn’t been expecting. Across the left side of his chest, over his heart, he had a tattoo—black ink letters that were written in a script I didn’t recognise.
I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed the markings before when I’d seen him in his office—but then he’d had a towel thrown around his shoulders, which must have hidden the writing.
I raised my eyes to his. “What does it mean?”
“Beauty for ashes. It’s a Hebrew saying, promising that out of pain and suffering will come happiness. I got it after my parents died.” He gave a wry smile. “Kit was there when I had it done. It hurt like hell, but you know how competitive we were. I didn’t dare let out so much as a whimper, because he’d never have let me hear the end of it.”
Beauty for ashes. I liked that—the idea that good things could come from bad. I thought of the withered rose that I had on my shoulder. I’d got it after what had happened with Toby, when I’d wanted a permanent reminder of how rotten I was—the kind of person who infected everyone and everything with her poisonous behaviour. Knowing what I did now, I wished I hadn’t permanently marked myself with something so negative. Richard’s memento of the greatest tragedy in his life was so much more constructive.
I ran my hands across the letters etched on his chest, feeling his heart race under my fingertips, and he drew a sharp intake of breath at my touch.
I raised my eyes. His jaw was clenched, his hands at his side, balled into fists. He was doing everything he could to hold himself back.
“I’m worried you’re not ready,” he said quietly.
“I am. I promise.”
“And what if you’re not, and you run away again?”
“I can’t keep living my life in fear, and neither should you. So forget the past. Stop worrying about the future. And just kiss me already, will you?”
The urgency in my voice was unmistakable. Richard stared at me for a long moment. I think in spite of everything I’d just said, he was still afraid that I might bolt. I half expected him to back away, but then just as I was giving up hope, he cupped my chin in his hands, tipping my face up to him. His gaze held mine for a split second, and then he bent his head and kissed me.
As his lips found mine, my eyes fluttered closed, my mouth opening to his. And before I could think what I was doing, my body was pressing against his, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
It was all the invitation that Richard needed. With a low growl he finally abandoned his restraint, and he was kissing me wildly, his arms circling my waist, and pulling me to his strong, hard chest with an intensity that left me breathless. His hands were in my hair, his lips on my neck, as though he couldn’t get enough of me. I rubbed against him like a cat, enjoying the feel of just how turned on he was already. His grip on me tightened, as he groaned against my mouth. And then he was dragging me backwards, down onto the couch with him, so I was lying stretched across his body.
His hands ran lightly over my shoulder blades and down over my buttocks, sending a delicious shiver through me.
“Tell me what you like,” he whispered, his breath warm against my ear.
I knew what he meant, but I could only shake my head. I’d slept with more men than I could remember, but it had never once been about pleasure. For all my experience, in terms of getting any enjoyment from sex, I might as well be a virgin.
“Seriously? You’ve never—?” I saw his jaw clench as he worked out the reason why—Toby. And then, with what must have been a supreme effort, he cleared the darkness from his eyes, and managed a playful smile. “Well, let’s see what we can do about that.”
In one practised move, he flipped me onto my back, so that he was kneeling above me. His mouth found mine again, as his hands began to work the buttons on my shirt. As he pulled the thin material apart, he cupped my breasts, his thumbs grazing the nipples in a way that sent little frissons of excitement through me. Part of me wondered if I was being selfish, letting him do all the work, but he seemed totally focused on my pleasure right now, which was fine with me.
My eyes were closed, and I stretched beneath him, giving myself up his touch. And then his lips were moving down my body, his hands unzipping my trousers and easing them off, along with my underwear. He trailed his mouth across my abdomen. I sucked in a breath, desire pooling at the base of my groin. I shifted restlessly, suddenly impatient to get on with this—not because I wanted it over with like before, but because I needed him to touch me properly, right now, before I exploded.
Instinctively I parted my thighs, and his mouth moved downwards, his fingers fluttering over me as I arched beneath him. I could feel I was on the brink of something, and as tempting as it was to let Richard continue, I wanted us to experience this together, if we could.
“Richard?” It took a supreme effort on my part to choke out the word. He raised his head, and I struggled to sit up. I eyed the bulge in his jeans. “I think it’s your turn.”
“I don’t mind . . . I’m happy like this if it’s all you want for now.”
It was the sweet, thoughtful response that I’d come to expect from Richard. My answer was to reach for the buckle of his jeans.
I eased down his boxers as he found a condom. And then I was lying against the soft cushions of the couch, He was poised above me, hesitating still, his face a mix of desire and wariness.
I reached up and touched his face. “It’s all right. This is what I want.”
I pulled him towards me; he eased in slowly, moving gently, almost agonisingly so, as though I might break. I knew he was still worried about hurting me, but I was past that now. My thighs clenched at his waist, my hips lifted, urging him to let go.
“It’s what I want,” I whispered in his ear. “Please.”
He gave in. He bowed his head, and abandoned his last vestiges of control.
I felt a white-hot tremor begin to ripple through me. My eyes widened in surprise, and I cried out—a mix of relief and elation. Richard raised his head briefly, and a flicker of contentment crossed his face. Then a second later, his chin dropped, his hands tightened on my shoulders, and with a roar he joined me in the shuddering abyss.
Chapter 30
“Oh, Charlotte.” My mother sighed, and I could hear a lifetime of disappointment in me in the sound. “Do you honestly expect us to believe that?”
I felt tears gathering in my eyes, and quickly blinked them away. I’d spent some time trying to work out how my parents would react when I told them what Toby had done to me, but even at my most pessimistic, I’d never envisioned this exasperation, as though I was a little child who’d cried wolf one too many times.
I looked around the room. It was odd—I couldn’t quite tell where we were. It was an old-fashioned living room, small, with a three-piece suite and floral wallpaper, but not somewhere I recognised—certainly not Richard’s apartment, or even any of the rooms at Claylands.
“What’s she saying now?” Suddenly Kate appeared—which was odd, because I couldn’t see a door in the room. She dropped onto the sofa next to my mother. “She’s not telling you that rubbish about Toby, is she?”
My mother and sis
ter were staring at me with undisguised contempt. I turned to my father, who was sitting in an armchair. At least I could rely on him to take my side. But he was looking at me with disappointment, shaking his head. “You really are a lying little slut.”
His words cut me to the bone. It was so much worse than hearing them from my mother or sister.
And then all three of them were saying it, chanting in unison: “Lying slut, lying slut.” I covered my ears, trying to block the noise out. “Lying slut—”
* * *
“Charlotte!” Richard’s voice jerked me from the nightmare. Panic gripped me. My heartbeat was galloping at twice its normal speed, and the bedclothes were sticking to my body, which was covered in a cold sweat. It had felt so real . . .
I rolled onto my back, and looked up at Richard, who was propped up on one elbow, frowning down at me in concern. He touched my bare shoulder, his hand light and hesitant on my skin. “Are you all right?”
I realised then that he assumed my panic was to do with him and what had happened between us last night. “I’m fine. It was just a bad dream.” His frown deepened, and I knew I had to elaborate. I fiddled with the sheets, as I tried to find the words. “I’d told my parents about . . . well, about Toby.”
“And I’m guessing they didn’t react well?”
I attempted a smile. “You could say that.”
His hand squeezed my shoulder. “You know it wasn’t real, right?”
“I know.” I spoke quietly. “But it still doesn’t make me feel any better about telling them. I don’t even know what I’m going to say . . .”
My voice quivered a little. I didn’t want to think about what that conversation would be like. I closed my eyes, and all I could see was my sister’s face last night when I’d tried to explain everything to her. She hadn’t been in touch with me since then, which meant she was still furious. What if my parents had the same reaction? What if they thought I was lying? I dug my nails into my palms, as I tried to fight the rising panic.
