Harvest Moon

by Sharon Struth

  “Go!”

  She fell into the same trap as Wanda, but once he reiterated the technique, she copied his moves and managed to get free.

  They practiced a few different grips, working on footing and placement to get out of those holds. For the next fifteen minutes, Trent recapped several class exercises. With each success, he could see her confidence in herself soared.

  “You doing okay?” he asked. “Should we keep going?”

  She blew out a long breath, her gaze trained somewhere over his shoulder. “Yes. I’m ready to try the false surrender.”

  “Already? Are you sure?”

  Her determined gaze drifted and met his. “Yes. Positive.”

  * * * *

  Adrenaline buzzed through Veronica’s veins. The desire to conquer what ailed her for so long became an unstoppable force. A victory over her assault—to stare it in the face and not back down—meant she could face anything.

  Tonight’s confession to Trent brought deep release, as if the handcuff on her soul had been unlatched. The only part she’d omitted in her tale was Gary’s name and his recent return to her world.

  Trent touched her shoulder. “A reminder before we start. Fighting exhausts a victim, leaves her more vulnerable. Exactly what our attacker wants, the phase when it becomes easiest for our assailant to get what he’s after.”

  “I remember. So should I lie down?”

  “In a sec.” He drew her close, and touched their foreheads together. “Promise if this is too much, you’ll say stop?”

  “I will, but I’m fine. What I need is for you to believe I can do this.” She stepped back, lifting her chin and shoulders.

  He silently studied her. “I already do.”

  Trent lowered himself to the ground, staying upright on his knees. “Come sit in front of me.”

  She did as asked, sitting cross-legged in front of him.

  “Now lie back.”

  She leaned backward on her elbows. Bent knees drawn together, she peeked around the sides at him.

  “Lie all the way down.” He cleared his throat. “And part your knees.”

  Her cheeks got hot, but she did both. “You’ll tell me before you do anything, right?”

  “Yes. Remember, this is an exercise. Not me doing this to you.”

  “I know.” She lifted her head and caught him watching her between her opened thighs. “Don’t go easy on me. Make it real. Let me try what you’ve taught me.”

  He nodded and inched closer to the space between her legs. “Okay. Starting now.” His thighs clamped onto the outside of her hips, and he paused.

  He lowered his torso over her. “I’m going to trap you now.”

  “All right. Promise you won’t stop. No matter what I do.”

  He blinked a few times. “I promise.”

  Lowering his chest, he aligned it with hers and settled some of his weight on her torso. His face pressed to a spot near her breasts while he slid his legs farther apart and tightened his hold on her hips, in effect locking her in place with his thighs. She wiggled, but found herself stuck. Her pulse quickened.

  “I’m going to slip my arms around your back. It’ll let me hold you tighter, like an attacker might do.”

  “Okay.”

  He slipped his arms between the blanket and the curve of her back, circled her waist, and bound her body to his frame. The current hold gripped like a vice, rendering her hips and shoulders immobile. She realized she’d been holding her breath, so she inhaled deeply, then exhaled, Trent so flush against her body that he rode the wave of her rolling chest. She slowly edged her arms between them and tried to push him off. Once. Twice. Visions of Gary revealed themselves: his contorted face taking pleasure, his dead weight stealing her breath. A low tremble erupted in her stomach and her heart galloped, one step from explosion. She shut her eyes. Breathe in. Breathe out. She repeated it several times until the apparition of Gary’s face disappeared. Again, she did what she could with her squashed arms, pushing Trent several more times in the chest. “Let me go!”

  He tightened his hold around her waist. “Fight, Veronica. Fight!” Trent’s voice muffled against her torso.

  She gasped, whimpered.

  “Try to escape. It shows you what not to do.”

  She flayed her legs, yet it yielded no movement to her upper body. Trapped like a bird in his cupped hands, she struggled, and Trent kept his promise to make her work hard.

  Veronica still possessed the will to fight. Concentrate! She needed a plan. In the video re-enactment, escape was all that mattered. A few deep breaths and her tense muscles went limp. She gulped for air, ignored her frazzled nerves.

  “I’ll do whatever you want,” Veronica whispered, the lie of submitting finally escaping her lips. “Don’t hurt me,” she said, with more meaning. “I give up.”

  Trent still clamped her torso tight. Veronica stilled.

  “Please.” Veronica raised her voice. “I give up.”

  The tension in Trent’s body relaxed, a partial release of his mid-section. A euphoric burst seized her, the door to a prison she’d put herself in years ago suddenly left ajar. The steady race of her pulse shifted, anxious to make flight.

  She waited, wanting Trent’s guard to be completely down before making a move. Four, three, two, one…

  She whipped her arms back, dug her elbows into the ground. Pull! Pull! She dragged herself away from him. His shoulder lifted, about to lunge forward and re-pin her to the ground. Move. Now! She shimmied her hips, pushed herself farther away, no longer beneath him. His arm shot out, reached for her leg. She jabbed him in the chest with the bottom of her foot, throwing him off balance and giving her time to jump to her feet.

  He groaned and rolled onto his back, smiling up at her. “Good shot.”

  “I did it!” Exhilaration bubbled beneath Veronica’s skin. “I got out!”

  “Pearls, I am so damn proud of you right now. Damn proud.”

  She went to his side, lowered herself to the ground, and studied him from above. “Thanks to your help.”

  Trent’s eyes danced with the excitement. “Doll, you did this. You found the power inside you. Not me.”

  His face blurred behind her tears, and she blinked them away. “I did. Didn’t I?”

  A gentle smile reached his eyes. “Yup. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this proud of anybody.” The smile vanished. “Thank you for believing in me. My wife, she had some of the same addiction problems as me, only when I offered her a hand…” He reached up, twirled a strand of her hair in his finger. “She didn’t take it. That you accepted my help… Well it means everything. Nobody has ever put their faith in me the way you have.”

  His gaze darkened, ablaze with passion that made her knees weak. Made it clear there was no other man she trusted the way she did him.

  He found her hand, lifted it to his chest, and flattened her palm. The gentle beat of his heart pulsed a song, accompanied by the glow of desire on his face. A song of his love, one that made her heart flutter in a fast tempo.

  She stretched along his side. “Touch me the way you want,” she whispered.

  Trent dipped his head, soft lips trailing her shoulder, the tender space behind her ear, the hollow of her throat. Every touch drew a spark, claiming every inch of her skin. Making her pulse soar. He slipped both hands into her hair, drew her close, grazed her cheek with his warm breath. She parted her lips in offering. He paused only for second, and then he kissed her. Deeply. Passionately.

  She pressed her body to his. Didn’t resist when his legs tangled with hers, when he rolled her to her back, when his hands pressed hers over her head. Trapped in his web, she gave in to her desire and handed him her trust.

  He stared down at her body. Hungry. Momentarily questioning.

  Trust. She arched her torso and tipped her head back. Trent’s soft lips grazed her throat, sending a warm blast through her body. He let go of one hand and slipped his ben
eath her shirt, gently traced the edges of her bra with his fingertips, made her strain for more of his touch. He lowered himself to her side, released her other hand, removed her shirt. With care, he undid her bra and tossed it aside, his longing-filled gaze never leaving her chest. He dipped his head, firm lips and warm breath teasing the exposed areas. She quivered. Her belly burned.

  He placed a trail of kisses along her neck until he reached the spot behind her ear. “God, Pearls.” His husky tone spoke to his own need. “You’re sure this is okay…now?”

  She ran her fingers through his thick hair, pulled his face to hers, and paused a short breath away from his lips. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

  Chapter 21

  Two elementary school-aged boys wrestled on the library floor near the children’s section, while their mother removed another book off the shelf in new fiction and read the back jacket. For the past five minutes, she’d ignored every single sound her kids made. Veronica had already spoken to them twice. Her blood pressure pushed upward, and her remaining patience dwindled.

  The shorter of the two boys yelped, “Ow!” and poked the other child.

  Veronica dropped the fax she’d just received onto the circulation desk and stormed off in their direction, at the same second the mother decided to check on her boys.

  After returning to the desk, she grabbed the fax and headed to her office, thinking nicer thoughts, like waking up next to Trent this morning and tonight’s date with him.

  When he’d invited her a week ago, he’d said the destination was a surprise. Men didn’t often surprise her, although maybe it had more to do with Veronica’s expectations. Trent, though, always looked beyond what she expected.

  She went to her office window and blinked into the bright sun, where Saturday shoppers walked along the main drag. Veronica found herself envious of a couple sitting close on the bench under the large oak tree in front of the library, holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes. For a moment, she considered faking sick and surprising Trent with a visit to the vineyard.

  “Busy?”

  Veronica turned. Her sister watched from the doorway, an awkward smile on her face, the one she’d possess whenever an unpleasant topic needed to be discussed.

  “No. Come in.” Veronica sat at her desk and pushed a neat stack of papers to the side.

  “Mind if I shut the door?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Emily took the seat across from Veronica and lowered her handbag to the floor near her feet. “Cassidy told me about that boy. The one who bothers her at school.” She tucked a piece of her short hair behind one ear. “She said it was the real reason she wanted to take that class with you.”

  “Good. I hoped she would tell you.”

  Emily drew in her thin lips, blinked a few times. “But she’s worried about you.”

  “Me?”

  “I’m worried about you, too. Cass mentioned you’ve been uncomfortable in the classes. She said—and these are her words, not mine—you sometimes act upset, like something bad once happened to you.”

  “She’s mistaken. I’m fine.”

  “Ronnie, come on. You always pull this act.”

  “What act?”

  “The stoic one. It’s almost cold.”

  “It’s not an act.” The words stung. Coldness came easier than vulnerability. Unfortunately, Veronica was well aware she’d shut off good emotions, too. “It’s just how I am.”

  Emily studied Veronica. “Look, I’ve been thinking about a lot of things. Like why you’d take this kind of class in the first place. For years, I’ve felt like you’re not telling me something.”

  Veronica wanted to be angry, insist she take back the words, even deem the claim ridiculous. She avoided her sister’s demanding stare and focused on the artist’s sketch of downtown Northbridge on the wall over Emily’s shoulder.

  “You came home from grad school a changed person. Nobody could figure out why. We all believed it was Marc, even convinced ourselves it was him, since there was no other explanation. But when you took this class…” Emily paused and Veronica looked at her. “I started to think about Marc. He was a super nice guy who cared about you. Sure, the breakup with him hurt, but he’d never have done anything to leave you so emotionally bruised all these years later. Then it hit me, maybe someone else hurt you.”

  Veronica stilled, unsure how to respond. “Does it matter?”

  Emily leaned forward and rested her elbows on the desk. “Of course it matters. What happened to you back then?”

  The way her sister looked at her was the same as Trent’s sympathetic gaze when she’d revealed the details of her attack to him. The compassion of those close to her had never been given its due consideration.

  “You’re right,” Veronica said quietly, not at all surprised when Emily’s jaw dropped open. “It wasn’t about my breakup with Marc. Someone else did hurt me.”

  “Who?”

  “Nobody you’d know.”

  “How’d he hurt you? You couldn’t have been dating him long because I don’t remember you—”

  “I wasn’t dating him. I met him at a party. He walked me home. He…” She stared into her sister’s worry-filled eyes. A hard wedge invaded the base of her throat, but she fought it and continued. “Imagine one of the worst things a man could do to you.”

  * * * *

  “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.” Trent’s soft voice landed near Veronica’s ear. “We’re home.”

  She blinked, unsure when she’d fallen asleep during their ride home from the Bushnell Theater in Hartford. Tilting her head to his voice, she stared into his gaze, so intense it stole her breath. He touched her cheek and ran his thumb along her lower lip while a slow smile spread across his face.

  “You’re a sound sleeper.” Taking her hand, he placed it against his chest, where his heart pulsed hard against her palm. “See what you do to me?” he whispered.

  He closed the space between them, kissed her slow and tender.

  He searched her face. “Any regrets about last night?”

  “Do you mean how you ravished me, multiple times if I recall?”

  He chuckled. “I meant the assault exercise.”

  “Not one regret…about either.” The word safe had run in her thoughts all night, not because Trent was at her side, but because the exercise had drawn forth a power inside her bones, one that armed her with confidence missing for a long, long time. “Or even about telling Emily what had happened. She showed great support.”

  “And you’re pretty brave. I’m proud of you.”

  She sat upright and smiled. “Thank you. Let’s go inside. I hope you’re not too disappointed, but Boomer is staying at my sister’s tonight. I figured we’d be back late.”

  “No Boomer?” He frowned as he stepped from the car, then grabbed her hand as they went to the front door. “I’ll miss him, but won’t miss his interruptions when I try to kiss you.”

  While she unlocked the door, he stood close behind with his hands smoothing her hips and his warm breath caressing the back of her neck. Distracted by his touch, she struggled to insert the key in the lock. He chuckled, nibbled more, pressed against her backside, his hands roaming and driving her wild.

  She finally got it opened, but once inside, he shut the door and pressed her to the wall. “Now I have you where I want you.”

  “Or perhaps I have you where I want you.” She looped her arms around his neck.

  “Either way, I win.” He slipped his hands beneath the skirt of her dress, running them along the bare skin of her thighs and making her limbs melt like butter in the sun. He captured her lips in his, kissed her deeply, and roamed her body with his strong, warm hands.

  His soapy scent. The stubble of his cheek against her skin. Every place he touched added a spark to the fire of her need. She lifted his shirttails from his dress pants, smoothing her hands along his muscular back.

  “J
ust say stop if this is too much,” he offered, his tone sincere. “The control here is all yours.” His fingertip traced the edge of her panties, and she inhaled sharply.

  “At the moment, my dear, you hold all the control.”

  * * * *

  Chirp, chirp, chirp.

  Trent opened his eyes, squinting as morning sun streamed through the frilly curtains. The birds outside continued their serenade as he rolled over to reach for Veronica, only her side of the bed was empty, the sheets cool.

  He listened to the quiet house and inhaled the coffee aroma, struck by how her absence in the comfortable bed left a blank space in his chest. Last night, as she curled against him sleeping, it hit him how her unconditional belief in him was a need he’d been unable to fulfill his entire life.

  Trent flung his legs over the bed’s side, slipped on his boxer briefs, and wandered to the kitchen. The coffee pot light was on, but she wasn’t there. A clicking sound in the living room sent him in that direction, and he found her sitting in front of the computer, wearing a T-shirt and panties.

  “Good morning, sunshine.” He grinned. She quickly minimized the screen she’d been viewing, then glanced over her shoulder, a troubled scowl on her face as she blinked away wetness in her eyes.

  “You okay?”

  She turned back to the screen, nodding. “I’m fine. My eyes are a little tired.”

  He went behind her chair and kissed near her temple. “You should’ve stayed in bed.”

  “I was restless and didn’t want to wake you. How’d you sleep?” She stood and wrapped her arms around his neck, yet her whole body seemed stiff, not the same relaxed, satisfied woman in his bed last night.

  “Is that what we were doing?” He gathered bunches of her T-shirt in his hands. “Pearls, sweetie, I didn’t get much of that.”

  She smiled, but it still seemed strained. “Coffee’s ready if you want some. I just need to use the bathroom and I’ll join you in a sec.” She dropped her arms and walked away, her frown returning.

  “Hey. Sure you’re okay?”

  She didn’t look back. “Yeah. I am.” The bathroom door clicked shut.