Blow

by Karr, Kim

  We were all hands as we kissed some more. His were on my breasts. Mine were digging into his back, pressing against each muscle as it flexed.

  I was so ready for this.

  So was he.

  I was surprised when he rose on his elbows and broke our mouths apart. I even tried to pull him back down to me, but I stopped when I saw him gazing into my eyes.

  Warmth spread through me like fire.

  His expression was so intense.

  Without so much as a blink, I took the time to study him. His eyes appeared so vibrant, green rimmed in chocolate brown. Mesmerizing. I reached up and smoothed my fingertips over the arches of his brows. I could feel words sticking in my throat. I felt this urgency to speak. Something about the pain I saw in the depth of those pools. It was so strange. I’d never, ever wanted to talk to a man while he was hovering above me.

  Garnering all of my courage, I urged myself to ask him about what I saw. It was now or never.

  Before I could make my lips move, he tenderly pushed some hair from my face. The soft touch was unexpected, and I closed my eyes and let the feeling absorb into my whole being.

  “I need to be inside you,” he murmured.

  My eyes flew open. I became disoriented. Fuzzy. Unclear. Flickering emotions cascaded through me as a whirlwind of terrible memories sliced through my soul. Shocked, panicked, unable to breathe, I shoved him off me and bolted off the bed. “You need to leave.”

  “Elle?” he asked, clearly concerned.

  Gasping for air, I didn’t answer him. I didn’t look at him. Instead, I grabbed my top and ran down the stairs as the first fifteen years of my life assaulted me. My father. My mother. The words I heard spoken through the thin walls. The crying. The yelling. The grunts and groans. It was too much.

  “Elle,” he called again, right on my heels.

  It was dark and my mind started to spin. I turned, backing myself up against the door. Frightened. Afraid. I just wanted him to stop.

  The silhouette came closer. I put my hands out. “Please, leave me alone. I won’t do it again,” I cried.

  “Elle, what’s going on?”

  The voice had no shape.

  White knuckled, I dug my fingers into the doorframe. “Please,” I begged. “Please leave me alone.”

  “Not until you talk to me.”

  The voice amplified. It sounded angry. His eyes flashed. He was a tough guy. Too tough to let a woman tell him no. Too tough to let a little girl try to stop him.

  Every muscle in my body was taut. I stayed still. Very still. I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe. Maybe if I were quiet enough he’d just leave me alone. Leave her alone.

  “Elle, it’s me. Logan. What’s going on? Where are you?”

  I blinked as that soft voice broke through to me. “Logan?”

  With tentative steps he approached me. His voice now soothing. “Elle, yes, it’s me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  My eyes began to readjust as I broke from the horror I dreamt about every day after my mother died and my sister left. “Logan,” I said again, needing to be sure it was him and not my father.

  His fingers were on my face, stroking away my tears. “Yes, it’s me. Yes, it’s me. It’s me.” His voice broke as he repeated himself over and over.

  I swallowed hard and tried to look away. He wouldn’t let me. He held my face in place. Shame and embarrassment were all I could feel. My heart pounded in my chest. What had I done? Why had I overreacted?

  His fingers caught my chin as I managed to drop it. He wasn’t going to let me evade him. His touch soft and gentle, he lifted it and looked into my eyes.

  I was begging myself not to burst into tears. I didn’t know if it was working, so I slammed by eyes shut. I couldn’t let him see me like this. This was the broken me. Not the one I had glued back together. Not the tough girl who didn’t let anyone in. I needed to get that girl back.

  No one saw me like this.

  No one.

  Before I knew it, I was engulfed in his arms and my face was against his chest. “It’s okay, Elle. I’m here. You can talk to me.”

  I pretended the water leaking from my eyes wasn’t tears. I pretended I was stronger than this person who needed this powerful man to hold her up. I pretended and pretended as he continued to soothe me, but then something happened—I felt safe.

  And I let my barriers down.

  When his constant soothing became too much to bear, I stopped pretending and collapsed in his arms, a sobbing mess.

  Somehow we ended up on the sofa and I was curled in a ball against him.

  “Elle,” he whispered after a long while.

  I wanted to fade into the leather of the sofa and disappear. I couldn’t look at him. I was weak and pathetic. My father would be laughing at me if he could see me now.

  When I didn’t respond, Logan lifted my head to look at him. His hands trapped my face and his eyes searched mine in a way they never had. “Tell me what happened. Did your father—” His voice cracked on the words, but I knew what he wanted to ask.

  My throat was dry. “No, he never touched me, not sexually,” I croaked.

  The sigh he made was more than audible. “Then tell me what happened to you. What did I do that triggered this? I need to know.”

  With a deep inhale, I forced myself to be honest. Aside from Charlie, I’d never talked about this to anyone. I wanted to tell Logan. I sat up straight and looked at him. I wanted to at least appear strong when I told the sordid details of my past. “My memories start at age six. My father always worked late and my sister and I were usually in bed when he came home. Still, every night he’d lock our door, and the sound of the lock turning would wake me up. And then I’d hear him begging my mother to have sex with him. It didn’t matter if she said no; he wouldn’t take that for an answer. He was a sex addict. He needed it. She was the complete opposite and never wanted to give it. What I remember the most is . . .” I paused.

  “Tell me,” he urged.

  “Is him telling her that he needed to be inside her.”

  Logan cringed and his face paled. “Oh God, Elle, I’m so sorry.”

  I shook my head. “You didn’t know. It’s not your fault. You see, I’ve had this rule when it came to sex—no talking. I’ve always made it very clear. But I didn’t tell you. To be honest, I didn’t want to tell you.”

  His brows furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

  Bracing myself, I pulled back and wiped the twin streams of water from my cheeks. “You were different.”

  He hesitated but still asked, “In what way?”

  I was barely breathing, I was so nervous. I was always petrified of telling anyone anything about myself. I wouldn’t blame him if he had run. The perversity of my situation wasn’t easy to swallow. But he hadn’t run, not yet. He was still beside me, waiting for what else I had yet to say. It shouldn’t have mattered to me so much that he was, but it did.

  What would happen after I confessed my strange reaction to him? I had no idea. But Logan wasn’t mine and if he chose to leave, I wouldn’t blame him. What was coming sounded beyond bizarre, even to me. “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

  His gaze gently flickered across my face. It was the first time he’d looked at me that way—like he saw me, not the person I reminded him of. It was like he was looking at me, not avoiding her. “No, Elle. No I won’t. Tell me.”

  Ironically, I had to avert my own eyes before I could say it. When I was looking anywhere but into his eyes, I finally spoke. “Since the very first time I had sex, I thought I was like my mother.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I shrugged. “Asexual isn’t really the right word, but it’s close. Not really into sex. I had sex but I felt very little, nothing really. For years I was relieved, because at least I knew I wasn’t a sex addict like my father. One day I met a guy and he became my boyfriend. We were compatible in so many ways, especially in the way that sex was secondary. It wasn’t what drove our relatio
nship. Our friendship did. But then we broke up and I fluttered again from man to man.”

  Logan bristled slightly and I lifted my gaze. He was staring at me. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “Why did you break up?” he asked.

  I wasn’t ready to share that part of me—the most broken part—so I shook my head. “Things just didn’t work out,” was all I said. I wanted to finish this, to tell him what I was feeling for him, but he had to understand me first. “After Charlie was out of my life, I started searching for what it was about sex that could turn someone into the monster my father was. My sister was afraid of my father and even though she always warned me to be quiet on those nights I’d woken up, there were times I couldn’t stand to hear my mother cry or to hear my father’s demanding voice. And during those times, I’d scream and scream and scream until my father marched in the room and whipped me with his belt. I didn’t care, though, because after he was done with me, he’d also leave my mother alone.”

  Logan drew in a breath before he pulled me to him. I wanted to shrug him off, but not as much as I wanted to feel the safety in his arms. He kissed my forehead. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”

  Baby?

  No one had ever called me by that term of endearment. The strength I had gathered was starting to weaken and I jumped out of his hold and to my feet. “I want to finish.”

  Although he paled, he nodded in understanding.

  I walked to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. I could feel his eyes on me the entire time, but I never looked back. Busying myself in the kitchen, I was allowing my strength to build. Once the coffee was done and I’d poured us each a cup, I felt much stronger. Turning back toward him, I could see that his eyes were filled with sympathy and something else.

  I didn’t want that.

  He took the cup I offered him and then I sat down next to him, with my own cup in hand. My hands were shaking, but I ignored it and took a sip of my coffee.

  Clearing my throat, I finally continued. “Up until I moved here three months ago, that was who I was. A single woman who didn’t really care that much about sex but was searching for answers, so I pursued it from time to time.”

  Logan tried to remain undaunted, but I could see the muscle in his jaw clench.

  I set my cup down. “I’m only telling you this so that you can understand me.”

  He nodded in understanding and then he opened his mouth, “Elle, I should—” He stopped, paused, drew in a breath, and then took a sip from his cup. “Never mind, go on.”

  I did. “Last night when I was with you, that changed. For the first time ever, I felt alive. Involved. Not removed. I wanted to feel everything. I didn’t have to go through the motions. And even when you spoke, I was okay with it. At times, I liked it.”

  Logan looked stunned. Uncertain.

  I knew I should clarify. Let him know I wasn’t declaring my love or laying claim to him. “Please, don’t worry. It doesn’t mean anything more other than I really enjoyed having sex with you.”

  The corners of his mouth tipped up.

  A shiver slowly danced down my spine at the same time a wave of embarrassment crashed over me. Heat worked its way up my body, flaming all the way to my fingers and toes, until I couldn’t take another minute of his focus and covered and my eyes. “See, I’m crazy.”

  Through my fingers, I saw him set his cup next to mine. Standing, he emptied his pockets and removed his gun, and then I felt him move closer to me. The air was thick and laced with so much of whatever it was that traveled between us. But he didn’t make the moment sexual. Instead, he pulled my fingers from my face and entwined them in his. When he spoke, his voice was soft, calm. “You’re not crazy. I feel this thing too. I don’t know what it is, but please don’t tell me I fucked it up.”

  I shook my head. “Why would you still want to be with someone like me? I’m weak and pathetic.”

  His fingers squeezed mine. Not roughly. More like passionately. “Don’t ever say that. Don’t even think it. You’re a strong woman who has been through a lot.”

  My tears started again. “But I’m not. I’m broken and I can’t be fixed.” I almost told him the rest of my story, but I just couldn’t. Not now. Not today.

  Logan’s lips found mine and he kissed me lightly. “You’re not broken,” he whispered.

  I nodded, letting him know I was.

  He kissed me again. “You’re not.”

  He did it over and over, and eventually I started to believe him.

  Maybe if I pushed that one part of me aside, I could be whole.

  Even if it was only for a little while, I’d take it.

  DAY 4

  LOGAN

  Headlights shined in the window.

  My eyes scanned the two circles of white that dissolved into the darkness. Stuck somewhere between alertness and grogginess, it took me a moment to figure out where I was.

  Elle’s.

  Fuck!

  Instantly, I snapped awake.

  Drenched in a cold sweat and breathing hard, I managed to heave myself out of bed and over to the window without waking Elle. Taillights blinked down the road. I fucking hated that she lived on a corner.

  The digital clock read 2:40 and I decided to slide back into bed for another hour. I should have already left. We’d redressed when I was planning on it earlier but then she’d asked me to stay. Now, I couldn’t. I wanted to tell her I was leaving before I actually did and I didn’t want to wake her yet.

  I walked the line between right and wrong.

  Sometimes towed it.

  But tried really hard not to cross it.

  Yet, her father was a man I might just kill with my bare hands if I ever laid eyes on him. To do what he’d done to his wife and children was unforgivable, and in his case I’d take the role of judge, jury, and executioner if I had to. I didn’t know him. Didn’t know his background. I didn’t have to—he, like Tommy, was a coward of a man who preyed on women to make himself feel more like a man, and like Tommy, he was a man I’d love to bring to his knees.

  Tommy, though, was forbidden territory—her father was not.

  My brain started swimming with everything going on in my life, but then her body found mine and we melded together like two puzzle pieces. I found a strange peace in the feel of her skin against mine. Giving in to it, I closed my eyes and let the calmness suck me in.

  I jolted awake.

  Fuck, it was dawn.

  I’d only meant to sleep another hour. I shouldn’t have stayed here all night with my SUV parked right in front of her place.

  I knew better.

  I fucking knew better.

  I did.

  Needing a moment, I didn’t move. I stayed where I was, with my heart racing and my breathing as heavy as though I’d been running.

  A few calming breaths had me thinking more clearly. Regardless of how reckless I felt right now, I wouldn’t have changed anything. There was no way I could have left.

  She needed me.

  Elle needed me and I had to be there for her.

  With that very thought in my mind, I opened my eyes to look at her. She was in my arms and although I knew it was wrong, it still felt so right.

  Last night we crossed a line we shouldn’t have. A line that brought us closer, and considering my current situation, that was unfair. She told me things about herself that were difficult, not only for her to say but for me to hear. She didn’t know what she was involving herself in with me. I was an asshole for not confessing my sins right then. She spilled her heart and I couldn’t even tell her what being with me meant to her safety. I wanted to. I tried to. I just couldn’t. I knew if I did, she’d make me go, and I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

  Not yet.

  I had to hold on until Friday for her sake, and mine.

  I had to keep her safe or I’d lose my mind.

  That was the bottom line.

  I drew a deep breath and exhaled.

  When I did, a hand reach
ed up and touched the side of my face. It was a delicate touch. A soft one.

  One that I really liked.

  One I should push away.

  One I knew I wouldn’t.

  I wanted to feel it.

  I wanted to do more than feel it.

  I wanted to own it.

  The thought made me sit up.

  Dangerous.

  My heart was still pounding and it wasn’t slowing down.

  I’d made some stupid decisions in my life and some not-so-stupid ones. The one to stay away from anyone who might get hurt because of me was one of the smarter ones. And I’d been doing that. Doing great at it. It had become my way of life. But it had seemed so much easier before her. Was she a “before” and “after” marker in my life? Was I destined to have an after Emily, a before Kayla, and now a before and after Elle?

  Fuck!

  The thought had my head spinning.

  “Good morning,” she said into my ear in a low, slightly purring voice.

  That was all I needed. I would take care of whatever I had to take care of, but right now, I needed her in my life. I’d never felt anything like what I was feeling for her with anyone else. I couldn’t let her go—not yet.

  She was behind me, on her knees, with her arms wrapped around my waist. I had already been revved up from her earlier touch, and now I was instantly hard. Around her, it didn’t take much. If she thought I made her feel good, I wished she could feel how I felt with just the sensation of her fingertips.

  Alive.

  Electric.

  Owned.

  I twisted my body so I was facing her and then I lowered her down onto the mattress. I wanted to make her feel good and I was going to as long as she’d let me.

  She blinked a little as if adjusting to the postdawn light, and when she looked at me with that seductive gaze, I knew she wanted me. Without hesitation I lowered my mouth to kiss her.

  Her lips were soft.

  Her mouth welcoming as she opened it to let me in.

  Our tongues collided and all thoughts of anything but her left my mind. Needing her, I rolled on top of her. She felt so good. I wanted to tell her. I wanted her to know what she was doing to me right now. But I didn’t. I was careful to keep my thoughts to myself. Still, I wanted to let her know how much I wanted her. That my need to drive inside her was so deep, I couldn’t think of anything else.