Beautifully Wounded (The Beaumont Brothers)

by Susan Griscom

  “Lena, before we go to sleep, I have another surprise, and another reason to drink this champagne tonight.”

  “What is it?”

  “Luke managed to get the judge to expedite the divorce and emailed the final papers to me this morning.”

  “Really?” she gaped at me. “But I thought it would take ninety days? It’s only been forty.” She said that like she knew the exact date and time everything would be final, and quite frankly, I bet she did.

  “Usually, there is a ninety-day waiting period between the time he’d been served and the final judgment, but because of the circumstances, the fact that you’d been married under a year and the abuse, Luke was able to convince the judge to waive the ninety-day period and expedite the final papers. Here they are.” I handed her the copy I printed. “The originals should be here any day now, but Luke emailed these to me this morning.”

  “Oh my God. I’m really free?”

  God, the way she said “free” broke my heart. As though she’d been held prisoner by the jerk. Well, I guess she had been. “Yeah, sweetheart, you’re free.”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she sobbed. “Why are you crying? I thought you would be happy.”

  “I am, I am so happy. So grateful to you.”

  “You are now, officially, a single woman.” I smiled, pulled her close to me and held her. No one could have been happier than I was that she was no longer married to that creep.

  After she’d shed all the “happy” tears she had, I popped the cork on the bottle of bubbly and we toasted to her newfound independence.

  “Let’s take this into the bedroom. I’d really like to get comfortable and cozy,” I suggested, and she nodded, clinking her glass against mine another time.

  I set the bottle of champagne and the two glasses on the nightstand, and she took her clothes and went into the bathroom to change. I had yet to see her fully naked. I’d had my hands on almost every part of her body, but never directly on her soft skin. I knew it was soft, because, although I hadn’t actually fondled her naked body completely, my hands and lips were no stranger to her stomach, shoulders, and neck. I’d never tried to go any further than that, not while she was still married. I pulled my shirt off just as she walked out of the bathroom. Though it hadn’t been the first time she’d ever seen me without a shirt, her eyes grew a bit wider as she stared at me this time. She stared so hard even the tattoos on my arms and chest began to feel self-conscious. Maybe, because this was the first time she’d seen me standing without my pants too. The other shirtless times I’d at least had jeans on. I glanced down at the blue and white striped boxers I had on, wondering if she thought they looked stupid or sexy. “Um …” she averted her eyes and walked to the dresser to set her clothes on top of it. Her back was to me now.

  I slid under the sheets without saying a word, and she turned around and smiled. She wore the heavy sweatpants and the same T-shirt I’d given her when she first moved in upstairs. The same ones she wore every night. “I’m gonna need to get you some new pjs, woman. Aren’t you tired of wearing those?”

  She laughed. “No. I like wearing your clothes.”

  “Yeah, but you’ve been wearing the same ones for two months now.”

  “Well, I do wash them every few days.”

  “But it’s getting warmer now, and we have this heavy comforter on here. You’re going to roast in those.” I got out of bed and walked to the dresser, pulled out a new T-shirt, one that had a picture of a guitar on it and printed underneath, the words, “guitarists finger faster.” Realizing what it said, I shoved it back in the drawer and pulled out another plain white one, along with a pair of purple, yes purple, silk boxers.

  “Purple?”

  “What, you don’t like purple?”

  “Yeah, I like purple.” She smiled. “What was wrong with the other shirt with the picture of the guitar?” She reached into the drawer for the other shirt and held it up to read. Her cheeks flushed pink and she wadded the shirt up into a ball, shoving it back in the drawer. “The plain white one will do fine, thanks.”

  I closed the drawer and took her hand, leading her away before she discovered some other things in my dresser that might make her change her mind about sleeping with me in my bed. I never claimed to be a virgin, or a saint.

  “Go change.”

  I got back in bed and waited. She came out looking a little fresher and cooler, turned off the light next to the bed and got in beside me. I’d left the small night light on in the outlet on the wall and it glowed, giving the room a nice warm golden ambiance; just enough light for drinking champagne by, or for kissing.

  We sat up with our backs propped up against the headboard and sipped some more of the bubbly stuff. It was good, cool and refreshing. Lena giggled a little and wiped her finger under her nose. “The bubbles got me,” she admitted.

  I took the glass from her and placed it on the table beside me along with mine, then took her face in my hands. “You are so beautiful.” She opened her mouth slightly as if she was about to object, or maybe she just didn’t know what to say, but I didn’t give her a chance as I covered her lips with mine. Taking full advantage of her open mouth, I slipped my tongue inside, tasting the wine and her, reveling in her willingness to allow me to kiss her. One of her hands slid up my back, and I moved my hand down to her waist and under the shirt. I skimmed my finger along her stomach, waiting for her to stop me. Instead of stopping me, she pressed her fingers against my chest and slowly rubbed them over my nipples, lingering there, teasing me. I thought I would explode. I’d been thinking about this woman being under me for so long, it had almost become, no not almost, it had become a fantasy; one I’d thought about every night. It was difficult for me to control my excitement, kissing her while lying in my bed, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. I wanted her, and I didn’t know if I could contain myself any longer. Sleeping with her upstairs in that small bed fully clothed was so much easier. I swore that I wouldn’t be the one to make the move, but man, this was killing me.

  Chapter 40

  Lena

  I was single. I was single. I wasn’t married to Troy anymore. I kept repeating the words to myself while Jackson and I kissed, trying to accept the reality. I couldn’t believe how good it felt, and then my fingers found his chest and the soft hairs there, the firmness of his pecs. My fingers glided over the tattoo of the little guitar he had above his left pectoral muscle that I’d never been close enough to touch before. I skimmed them over to the side, and traced the outline of the small fawn he had. I’d need to ask him about that one some time.

  “Jackson?” I spoke his name against his mouth.

  “Yeah, baby, what is it?”

  “Will you take me to get a tattoo tomorrow?”

  He blinked. “Sure. Did you have something special in mind?”

  “No, but I know I want one. Maybe something like a butterfly to start with, something that is free and butterflies are free.”

  “I think there is a movie about that or something.”

  “Oh …well, maybe a bird, definitely something with wings.”

  “You could get wings etched across your shoulder blades, and then you truly will be like an angel.” He laughed, and so did I. I’d seen photos of girls who’d done that. That wasn’t really my style though.

  “I don’t think I’m quite ready for something that drastic.”

  We started kissing again, and I forgot about being single, or married, or being free. I just let my mind go, and enjoyed the texture of his skin, and the tight ripples of the muscles in his stomach. I walked my fingers up to his nipples, and found them firm and suckable; his breath hitched against my mouth.

  I stopped kissing him and pulled away only about an inch or two, not because I was scared, but because I wanted to look at his face. I needed to see his expression when I asked the next question.

  “Jackson?”

  “Yes, sweetheart,” he whispered, gazing into my eyes searching for whatever it was
I was about to ask.

  “Will you make love to me?”

  He didn’t say anything at first, just brushed a few loose strands of hair from my eyes and stared into them. “I …” he stuttered, “I would love to make love to you. It is all I’ve thought about for the past two months.”

  “Really?” That didn’t surprise me, but I didn’t want him to know I’d been thinking about him thinking about me that way.

  “Yeah, but are you sure?”

  “I’m very sure,” I said, nodding, and he kissed me, his hands gently coaxing my body down the bed until I was completely flat. He lay beside me, kissing my neck, moving down to my stomach. He raised the T-shirt up, and his lips moved up my torso. He stopped suddenly and stared at me. “What’s wrong?” I asked, wondering if I smelled bad or something.

  “Can I take off the T-shirt?” he asked.

  I nodded, unable to form the approval on my lips. I sat up a bit, and he pulled it over my head. My arms instantly went up to cover my breasts. He smiled, gently pulling them away and carefully laid me back down. His hands were warm on my skin, and the next thing I knew, the silk boxers were off too. He pressed tender kisses all over my stomach, inching his way down to the soft mound of curls, and within seconds, he pleasured me in a way that Troy had never bothered with. I moaned, delighting in the unexpected attention. After several minutes of what I thought had to be heaven, he kissed his way back up my stomach, lingering right below my belly button. As he kissed me there, he slipped his own shorts down and kicked them off somewhere into the sheets. I felt his hardness as his naked body covered mine. He kissed my shoulder, my neck, then kissed my lips, a tender, but heated kiss, filled with an urgency that I couldn’t help return. I wanted to feel him inside me more than I’d ever wanted to feel another man before, but then he stopped kissing me. “Just a sec.”

  He slid off me and hopped out of bed.“Where are you going?”

  “Just a minute.” I stared at his perfect bottom, the muscles in his back and his slender hips as he opened the top drawer of his dresser and hurried back. Ripping open a condom, he put it on and slipped back in on top of me. I closed my eyes, briefly, but quickly opened them. I loved looking at Jackson. His green eyes sparkled with promise and trust. Yes, trust. He’d proven himself very trustworthy in the first thirty minutes of our first meeting that morning in his bar, and I’d grown to trust him more and more every day. His lips were warm, soft, gently pressing against me, his tongue skimmed against mine and retreated, only to find mine again. Something flitted and rolled inside my stomach, flowing up through my chest and I grabbed on to Jackson’s back and pulled him closer to me so that we were now flesh to flesh. My heart pulsed heavy against his as desire swept over my senses, and he took me with a care and tenderness I didn’t realize any man could do. It wasn’t sex. It was love. I’d never realized the difference before. I’d thought I’d loved, but this, this was so much deeper and stronger than anything I had felt before. I’d always thought that the act of love-making had to be hard and quick in order for the man to experience that point of ecstasy. I’d never actually gotten to that level before. Troy had always finished before I’d had the chance. Or maybe it was just that I wasn’t being turned on the way I seemed to be this time, with Jackson.

  Chapter 41

  Jackson

  The surreal sensation of finally holding Lena in my arms this way, being this close, made my heart pound. This was her first time with me, a time she would remember forever, I hoped. I wanted to make it that special. I wanted to take away her bruises, not the ones on her skin that were already gone, but the ones inside. The ones she still occasionally had nightmares about. I wanted her to fall for me the way I was falling for her. My God, I didn’t think I could have fallen any harder.

  When I pressed into her completely, and the movement intensified, her face flushed with heat. My own body heat rose throughout my entire being, and I thought I would go crazy with desire. The more I fell, the more I wanted.

  I awoke to the sun glaring in through the window. I’d forgotten to close the blinds last night in all my excitement, and I turned away from the glare to find Lena’s beautiful face an inch from mine. I smiled. I couldn’t help it. I reached out to hold her, and she snuggled into my arms.

  “Mmmm …” She opened her eyes and smiled, even scooted closer against me.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  “Ready for your tattoo?”

  “I think so. Though I haven’t really decided on what yet.”

  “That’s always a plus before going to the tattoo artist.”

  “Yeah.” She grinned, and traced her finger over the fawn on my chest. “Jackson. Why do you have a fawn tattooed on your chest?”

  “Well, when I was a kid I rescued a fawn from being caught up in a bunch of barbed wire in the woods. Her leg was broken. I took her home and nursed her back to health, but my dad made me let her go. I cried about it, and never forgave my father for taking her back into the wild. I probably would have forgiven him had he stuck around longer, but I never got the chance. He left my mom shortly after that, and was then killed in an auto accident a few years later. It was a hard lesson to learn that there are some things that you just can’t keep no matter how much you want them. You have to let them go. I got the tattoo to help me remember them both; the actual fawn, and the lesson.”

  She bit her bottom lip and snuggled into me. “I think I just thought of the perfect tattoo.”

  We ate a quick breakfast of toast with peanut butter and coffee, and headed downtown to my favorite tattoo parlor run by our drummer, Kipper. Lena was surprised to see him, but seemed pleased when she realized he would be the one to etch her very first tat. She described what she wanted, and he said that would be a piece of cake.

  After the tattoo session, it was only a short walk to the car, but we needed to go through town to get to it since it was Saturday and parking on the street was difficult to find, particularly in this part of town. I held Lena’s hand as we walked by the flower shop, and I tugged her to a stop. “Wait.” I pulled her inside with me and picked up a dozen red roses. Women loved flowers, and I wanted to let Lena know how happy she’d made me. By the look on her face, I must have succeeded. I vowed right then that if she ever agreed to live her life with me, I’d buy her flowers once a week just so I could see the smile they caused.

  We decided to walk around the town for a while just to pass the time and enjoy each other’s company. I loved holding her hand while we walked. We stopped in the café on the corner for some lunch, and she begged me to help her remove the bandage. Kipper said it should stay on for one to three hours and it had been an hour and a half, so I removed it. The tattoo was gorgeous. Kipper really did a great job. A little later, we walked into the bar. Lena wanted to show off her new tattoo. She’d worn the perfect top that exposed her left shoulder, yet still had long sleeves to keep her warm. It was still early spring and the temperature fluctuated throughout the day, cooling down to forty degrees some nights. Lena walked up to the bar, turned her back toward Brodie and Derrick, and let her coat drape down her arm revealing her bared shoulder and the new four-inch tattoo of the winged guitar.

  Even though the sun was still shining, you could never tell inside the bar. We kept the blinds pulled. Most people who hung out in the bar during the day liked it that way. Made them think it was okay to drink their day away. We didn’t have many daytime patrons, but a couple regulars frequented on a daily basis.

  “Well, will you look at that?” Derrick said as he leaned over the bar to get a closer look.

  Lena grinned and turned back around. “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s awesome,” Derrick said.

  Brodie walked up beside her. “Nice, is that significant to something? Other than the guitar I mean, the wings?”

  She turned back around to face everyone. “Yeah. Um … I’m single now, which means I’m free, and I can play the guitar whenever I damn well please.” She�
��d beamed when she said that last part. I knew how much it meant to her to feel secure enough to say it too.

  Brodie looked at me, nodded slowly. “Congratulations,” he said softly directed toward me.

  “Lena?” The male voice coming from across the bar shocked me, since no one in this town new Lena’s real name except for Brodie and me.

  Lena turned around. “Oh my, God!” she gasped and wrapped her arms around the guy’s slim torso as he hugged her back. I wanted to know who the heck he was and why he had Lena in a tight bear hug.

  “Woman, it is good to see your bright face again, finally. What a fucking relief. I’ve been so worried.”

  They finally stopped groping each other, and Lena turned toward the rest of us. “Jackson, this is Wesley, um … Weezer, my friend from Medford. Weezer, this is Jackson, his brother Brodie, and that’s Derrick behind the bar. How did you find me?”

  “Long story, but it was Gabby. What did you do to your hair? I almost didn’t recognize you. I like it. And I see you added something else too. I like the tat.”

  “It stings a little still. I just got it this morning.”

  I had to admit I’d been relieved to find out whom this guy was. Lena had mentioned him more than once.

  “How did Gabby know where I was?” she asked, a twinge of panic evident in her voice. I knew from what Lena had told me that Gabby was short for their mutual friend Gabriella, who sang backup with the band she used to play with.

  “Can we go sit and talk in private?” Weezer asked.

  “Yeah. Um … Jackson knows everything. I don’t have any secrets from him.”

  Weezer raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “Okay.”

  “I’ll get some coffee and bring it over,” Brodie offered, which surprised me. Was my brother finally accepting that Lena was here to stay? Or maybe he thought someone was here to take her away and was happy to help. I wasn’t sure.