Kyle

by Riley Edwards

  “I got this. You just relax.”

  There it was, another promise I knew he’d keep.

  “Okay.”

  I closed my eyes and my head felt a hundred times better. I took a few shallow breaths and tried to relax as Kyle had suggested. He was right next to me, his hand still on my back holding me up even though it was no longer needed. Protecting me. Keeping me safe.

  Then my mind wandered to my book. Maybe Susan Stoker had it right. There was something amazing about being in the middle of the ocean with a big, badass former Navy SEAL. There was something astoundingly wonderful knowing he’d keep you safe. Kyle’s hand started moving back and forth and I realized real life was way better than any book I could ever read.

  No more regrets, I vowed.

  No more hiding.

  I had another chance and I was never again going to be too afraid to take what I wanted.

  Chapter 14

  Anaya had showered and was standing in front of the window in her hotel room looking out at the city lights when I came into the room.

  “Are you ready for me to bandage your ribs?” I asked and she jerked in surprise.

  Fuck, I wished I could go back and kill every one of those assholes again.

  “Yeah.”

  When she turned it took all of my control not to flinch at the sight of her face.

  The motherfucker had done a number on her. From her left temple down to her chin her face was red, swollen, and scratched.

  “It could be worse,” she mumbled. “At least he didn’t punch me.”

  She needed to stop saying shit like that. Making light of what had been done to her. Every time she’d mentioned it, rage consumed me.

  “All he did was slap me. If he’d punched me, he would have broken bones. This will heal in a few days,” she finished.

  Christ.

  But would her soul heal? Could she get past this trauma? I still didn’t know the details about what happened in the hours she was gone, but when I’d found her, she’d been restrained. She’d been chained to a pipe above her head, an image I would never forget. Blood dripping from her face, her wrists raw, up on her toes. Bare feet, torn clothes, beat to hell. Yeah, I’d never fucking forget it—not for as long as I lived.

  “Kyle?” she called.

  “You’re gonna have to pull the shirt up so I can wrap you up. Are you okay with that?”

  “Yeah,” she sighed.

  “I won’t—”

  “I know you won’t. You don’t have to keep telling me. I trust you, Kyle.” Anaya slowly made her way to me and stopped a few feet away. “I think it looks worse than it really is.”

  She pulled up the t-shirt I let her borrow, gathering the extra material as she went, and tucked it under her breasts, exposing her bare midriff. The boxers I’d loaned her were rolled down low on her hips and I sucked in a breath.

  “I told you it looked worse than it feels.”

  My eyes traveled over the purple and green bruises and my hand shook from the sight of her pretty pale flesh marred and injured. I’d fucked up so huge. This was my fault.

  “Never fucking again will anyone fucking touch you in anger. I swear it on my life.”

  Anaya’s eyes drifted closed and her inhale was audible.

  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

  My gaze traveled over her marred flesh and I couldn’t believe this beautiful, strong woman had taken a goddamn beating to protect me. She could’ve easily given my name, Declan’s name, given up Z Corps, Cambodia, everything. Yet she’d willingly took hit after hit. I knew men twice her size who’d broken under less pressure. Un-fucking-believable.

  My woman was strong. Mine. And I’d never again make the mistake of denying it again.

  With my hands trembling, it took me two tries to open the Ace bandage. When I had the elastic compress where I needed it, I carefully started to unwind it around her.

  “Please stop,” Anaya huffed, and I froze making sure I wasn’t hurting her. “Not that.” She exhaled loudly.

  “What do you mean, ‘not that’?”

  “Not the wrapping. The way you’re acting.”

  “How am I acting?”

  “Like I’m made of glass. Like I’ll freak out if you touch me. Like I’m broken.”

  “Anaya—”

  “Just stop, Kyle. Don’t treat me like I’m some fragile victim. Wrap my fucking ribs and stop trying so hard not to touch me.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Bullshit,” she snapped and stepped away, forcing the bandage to fall to the floor.

  Steely determination shone bright on her face, and it was radiating out of every pore.

  “You know what I was thinking about when that asshole was slapping me?”

  My body locked tight, not sure if I wanted to hear this. Not yet. I was still too raw. Too angry. Too emotionally overwhelmed with all the feelings I had racing through my mind.

  “How much I regretted locking myself away being scared of everything and everyone. How I’d wasted the second chance I’d been given. How I’d spent my life pretending I was brave and travelling the world when all I was really doing was putting emotional distance between me and every person I came in contact with. It’s kinda hard to forge lasting friendships when you’re always moving around. I was play-acting at living. I’d perpetrated a grand lie.”

  Her eyes filled with tears and my chest ached at the sight. Anaya Baker was not a victim. I doubted she ever was, even at thirteen when she’d been sold into a sex trafficking ring.

  Strong and loyal, that was who Anaya was.

  “Then I’d thought about you.”

  “Me?” I asked, shocked she’d think about me while she’d thought her life was going to end.

  “Yes, you. I wanted your smile to be the last thing I saw before I died. I was thinking about how if I’d been stronger, I would’ve been able to tell you the truth.”

  Her admission had me on edge for a very different reason. I’d been wrong, I thought everything I’d been feeling was one-sided. I’d been so caught up in my shit, I’d missed it. And damn if that was an even bigger kick to the gut.

  “What truth is that?”

  “That I wanted to stay with you. That I wanted you to want me to stay, and maybe if I wasn’t so fucked up, you wouldn’t have wanted to get away from me so quickly. Maybe if I wasn’t such a freak—”

  “What the fuck?” The question was ripped from somewhere deep inside of me. “What the actual fuck, Anaya? That’s what you think? That I wanted away from you?”

  “Well, yeah. One second you were talking about me coming with you, then you were pushing me away. I know I have issues and I don’t blame you. That’s part of what I regretted. Maybe if I was a different kind of woman, I could have a man like you. But instead I’ve spent the last eighteen years of my life acting like a freak with a flashing warning sign above my head that says, ‘stay away.’ Do you know when the last time I had sex was?”

  My gut clenched, not wanting to hear the answer, but she continued. “When I was twenty. I’m thirty-two, Kyle. You do the math. Do you know how many men I’ve slept with? Two. What unmarried, unattached woman my age who’s not fucked up has only slept with two men?” She stopped and looked down at the floor shaking her head. “I get it. I really do. But please stop treating me like I’m going to have a nervous breakdown if you touch me.”

  “What do you get?” I growled. My own regret and irritation swirling together making it difficult for me to contain my ire.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, what is it that you think you get?”

  “Let’s see. I acted like a freak the first time—”

  “Stop calling yourself a goddamn freak, Anaya.”

  “Well, if the shoe fits…” she trailed off before she continued with her original thought. “The first time you touched me on the plane, I admitted it had been years since I’d touched another human. Then, like a weirdo I asked if I could hold
your hand for the next twenty hours we were in the air. Then I had a total come apart when you pushed me against a wall—to protect me. Then I had two different nightmares where you had to come in and calm me down. So with all of that, I get why you wouldn’t want anything to do with me. Which brings me to what I do know. No man wants to deal with a basket case. So there’s my regret—if I was normal, maybe you wouldn’t have pushed me away.”

  Her entire explanation was such bullshit and so far from how I felt about her I didn’t know where to begin. I wanted to shake the hell out of her until every bad thought she had about herself rattled free.

  “Straight up, Anaya, I’m gonna set a few things straight, then we’re getting into bed so you can get some rest.” I paused, trying my best to get my temper under check, but when I’d thought about what she’d said about herself I couldn’t tamp it down. “Don’t you ever call yourself a freak, a weirdo, a basket case, or any other fucking adjective other than ‘strong’ again, or so help me God, you’ll see a side of me you wish you hadn’t. You are so fucking brave. Your courage and kindness leave me in awe. Who in the actual fuck cares if you haven’t had sex in however many years it’s been? That doesn’t say one thing about you that’s bad.

  “And I want you to listen to me real careful now. I did not leave you because I wanted to get away from you, period. You wanna talk about regrets? It’s my fault you were kidnapped. If I would’ve listened to my gut and kept you with me, none of this would’ve happened. But instead I acted like a pussy, too afraid to admit to myself I was feeling something for you. Too weak. Too stupid. I thought I was behaving like an over-protective asshole when you wanted to stay in Timor-Leste, yet I demanded you come with me. So I backed down—worst mistake of my life—but that decision had everything to do with my job and the shit that’s happening there. The fuck of it is, I wanted you safe, and I thought you’d be better off without me. But you need to understand this, that will not be happening again. I will not back down. And you may think I’m an asshole for sayin’ it, but from now on, I’m operating on instincts. When my gut is screamin’ at me to hold you close, I’m holding you close. You can push me away, but I swear it will be useless.”

  Anaya was standing two feet away from me, trembling. Too damn far. I closed the distance and moved in front of her, slowly raising my hands to gently cup her face. She might as well get used to my touch now, because I planned on doing it a lot.

  I waited until some of the stiffness subsided then told her, “We’re gonna get you through this. You and me. We’re gonna work all that bad shit you got bottled up inside of you out.” She held my gaze but didn’t respond. “I need to trust you when you tell me you know I won’t hurt you. I’ll stop treating you like you’re made of glass if you promise me, you understand that when I touch you, it will never be done with cruel intentions.”

  “I promise,” she whispered.

  “Do you feel the same connection I do?” She nodded wordlessly, answering my question. “Do you want to explore those feelings?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No buts. Yes or no.”

  “It’s not that simple.” Her cheeks tinged pink and I knew where her thoughts had gone.

  “You’re worried about a physical relationship?” Again she nodded and tried to look away. “Don’t hide from me.” Her gaze came back to mine. “We’ll worry about that when the time comes.”

  “But—”

  “Babe, I hate to sound so crass, but if the need arises, I gotta hand and I’m not afraid to use it.”

  Her lips twitched and her face flamed.

  “I wasn’t thinking about you,” she grumbled and my dormant cock twitched, thinking about her needing to get off and all the ways I could help her with that.

  “Yes or no, do you want to explore those feelings?” I asked again, needing to steer my thoughts away from bringing her to a screaming orgasm. Twelve years was a long time to go without having sex and when we got to the point where she was in my bed, and she could trust me enough to let go, I had no doubt it would be magnificent. But it was going to be a time-consuming endeavor, one I was going to enjoy.

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” I hadn’t realized how hard my heart had been pounding waiting for her to answer. “There are plenty of other ways for me to make you feel good without me on top of you making you feel trapped. Things that do not involve my dick anywhere near you.” My cock jerked in my pants making its protest known.

  “Um…”

  “Never been in a situation like this,” I started. “But my take is, we need open communication. Total honesty about everything. There’s no room for embarrassment. Physically we’ll go as slow as you need and I’ll take you as far as you want to go. You’ll never need to worry about me and my body’s reaction to you. Straight up, Anaya, I think you’re beautiful, sexy, smart, and so damn strong I can’t control my dick from getting hard when I touch you, but I promise I can and will control what I do with it.”

  “I like it when you hold my hand,” she whispered.

  “Good. We’ll start there.”

  “I like when you slept behind me and held me.”

  “I like that, too.”

  Anaya was quiet for a long moment and I gave her time to process her thoughts before I prompted, “What are you thinking about?” She remained silent so I reminded her, “Complete honesty. You can tell me anything. I won’t judge you and I’ll never be mad—unless you call yourself a bad name.”

  She smiled and straightened gathering her courage. “I don’t want you to treat me any different than you would any other woman you’ve been with.”

  My brows pulled together and I said, “But you’re not any other woman. Not even close, sweetheart.”

  “I just mean I don’t want you to hold back, always waiting for my reaction or for me to, you know, freak out.”

  My eyes narrowed as she came dangerously close to saying something disparaging about herself.

  “I need to have a care and watch your reactions to me.”

  “But—”

  “Didn’t say I’d hold back, babe, I only know one way to be and that’s me. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be watchful, so don’t mistake that for hesitation.”

  “Are we really talking about this?” she whispered. “Is this normal?”

  “Don’t know, don’t care. Really, I don’t give the first fuck what normal is supposed to be. Bottomline is, it’s who we are and how I want us to be. I want to get to know you better and when the time comes when sex is introduced, we’ll both be ready.”

  I’d told Anaya the truth, I didn’t know what normal was. But I knew I’d never started anything with a woman that began with extreme openness and honesty like this. There was no need when there’d be no relationship. But Anaya was different for a variety of reasons, and one of them was she’d been hurt in the past. The fact couldn’t be denied and swept away no matter how badly she wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened to her.

  I had one shot at making this right for her.

  One attempt to prove to her I was a man she could trust with her body and her heart.

  “Let me wrap your ribs so we can get into bed.”

  She wordlessly repeated the process of pulling up her shirt and exposing her midsection. This time I didn’t shy away from allowing my knuckles to graze her bare skin. I was as gentle as the situation called for, but didn’t waver in my confidence to take care of her.

  Chapter 15

  It had taken me a few minutes to find a comfortable position, but when Kyle propped some extra pillows behind me keeping my head elevated, I could breathe. That was, until Kyle pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on top of his open backpack.

  With nothing more than a lift of his brow he climbed into bed next me. I might’ve been a tad more appreciative than I should’ve been when he didn’t ask me if I was all right. I didn’t want him treating me like I was some crazy woman he had to check in with every five seconds to make sure I wouldn’
t freak out.

  But the truth was, I totally wasn’t okay. But it had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with him being shirtless and abso-freaking-lutely hot bare-chested. Well-defined pecs and a six pack graced his front and I wanted to ask him to turn around so I could verify his back was just as muscular, but I didn’t. Only because I was afraid that would be a little weird—but I had no problem staring at him as he got into bed.

  Kyle rolled to his side facing me, propped his elbow on the bed to support his head, and stared at me.

  His gaze was disconcerting and I braced when he opened his mouth. “Tell me about what happened after you left Amisha’s.”

  Not at all what I wanted to talk about while Kyle was lying next to me with his shirt off after he’d told me straight out he felt the same way I did and wanted to explore those feelings. Then he’d led the conversation to sex, and as embarrassed as I’d been, his candor and openness made it easy for me to be honest in return. I was worried about a physical relationship. How could I not be? But I trust Kyle to take us where we needed to be.

  “Do you really want to do this?”

  “Want to? Fuck, no. Do we need to do it? Yes.”

  “And if I don’t want to talk about it?”

  “Then we shelve it for another day, but I’d strongly try to persuade you to get it all out now so it doesn’t fester.”

  On a heavy sigh I told him everything; from taking the girls to the new orphanage, to the drive back to Dili, about my fear when I knew something was wrong with my driver. I was as honest as I could be about all my thoughts and feelings. I told him how my ribs had been injured, being chained below deck. The interrogation by the Italian guy, getting slapped over and over again because I wouldn’t tell him Kyle and Declan’s name.

  Kyle didn’t interrupt me once, but he didn’t have to verbally tell me how he was feeling. His features did the talking for him. They’d turned stone-cold when I talked about being chained and slapped. But gentled when I promised I hadn’t given his name. He let me ramble and get out what I had to. I felt safe for the first time in a very long time. And not just since being rescued from the boat, or since the rebels had invaded my village. Maybe for the first time in my life.