by LENA DIAZ,
She shoved her hair back from her face and drew a deep breath. “After my parents were killed, the Ingrams took me in, eventually adopted me. Everyone thought they were being good Samaritans, honoring their friends. But they never really wanted me. They wanted the Radcliffe family home here in Rutherford Estates that came with me, and my trust fund. The house has its own trust fund just for its upkeep and taxes, to ensure that I’d never have to worry about having a home.”
Adam frowned. “But you live in an apartment. Shouldn’t the house be yours now that you’re a legal adult?”
She shrugged. “You would think so. The Ingrams showed me the deed and a copy of my parents’ will giving them ownership in exchange for taking care of me. I guess my biological parents thought the trust fund they set up for me would be enough once I was out on my own, that I could buy my own house at that point.”
“It wasn’t enough?”
Her mouth tightened. “It should have been. But the Ingrams made large withdrawals against the fund while I was growing up, supposedly for my care. There was barely enough to get me through college when I came into ownership of the fund and they lost control of it.” She held her hand up. “And before you ask, yes, I petitioned the court for an accounting of their stewardship, hoping I could force them to pay back some of the money. But after an accountant reviewed the records, a judge ruled that they hadn’t done anything illegal. I could have appealed, but I decided to let it drop at that point.”
Adam didn’t like what he was hearing. It sounded fishy to him. Maybe he could look into it sometime, if she wanted him to. But it wasn’t the financial misdeeds of the Ingrams—if indeed they had done anything illegal—that worried him right now. It was the way Jody had turned pale as she prepared to tell him the details about her childhood.
He didn’t want to know any more than what he’d read in the court transcripts.
The house she’d grown up in was just a few blocks away. He knew because he’d looked it up when he’d looked into her background. He already cared deeply about her. How was he supposed to sit here and not run over there and kill the man who’d hurt her? He was afraid of what he might do if she told him in her own words what her adoptive father had done to her.
He was about to remind her again that she didn’t need to tell him any of the details. But she was staring at him, her green eyes searching his with a mixture of trust, and hope, and fear. And he knew he couldn’t tell her no. She wanted this, needed this, needed to share with him what had happened to her. And he was in awe that it was him she trusted to share it with. So even though it almost killed him, he endeavored to listen and be there for her, and to not go kill Peter Ingram once she was finished.
He drew her against his chest.
She clung to him for several minutes, then relaxed. “The first time he came into my room at night, when everyone else in the house was asleep, I was nine.”
Dear God. He closed his eyes and spent the next twenty minutes in agony listening to the harrowing details of her abuse. He remembered, in the mountains, thinking about how young she was, and that she was naive, inexperienced and sheltered in the horrors that existed in the world around her. What a fool he’d been. She was none of those things. She’d suffered horrendous abuse and learned about the ugliness that existed in this world far sooner than she ever should have. He felt like such an idiot for judging her, making assumptions. And now, as he sat here, listening to what had happened to her, all he wanted to do was grab his gun and storm out of the house. He wanted to kill the man who’d hurt her. If Jody wasn’t nestled in his arms right now, so trusting and needing him in this moment, he very well might have. He stayed, for her, but it tore him up inside.
The abuse she’d suffered was horrific, far worse than anything listed in the court records. He didn’t know how she’d managed to survive and become the well-adjusted, caring, kind person that she was today. She’d been abused by her adoptive father. And then abused again, betrayed, victimized by every member of her supposed family when they took their father’s side against her after she finally told a counselor at school what was going on.
And if that wasn’t enough, the social worker in the case and the court-appointed psychiatrist took the father’s side as well. They claimed that Jody was lying, acting out, wanting attention. And when the proceedings were over, they found the father innocent and forced Jody to attend psychiatric sessions for years—to work on her issues with being needy and attention seeking and being a pathological liar.
And they sent her back to live with her abuser and his family.
As far as Adam was concerned, all of them—her adoptive father, his family, the judge, the psychiatrist, the social worker—should have gone to prison, lost their jobs and anything else that could be legally done to punish them for failing to protect the innocent little girl entrusted to their care.
“After that,” she continued, whispering against his chest, “I was treated like a servant, like Cinderella, doing all the chores, eating alone, being pulled out of my school and sent off to the bad kids’ school. It was as if I didn’t exist to them anymore. I was invisible and I didn’t matter. The only good thing was that Peter never touched me again. I think he was worried that his wife was suspicious, that maybe she believed me but wouldn’t go against him. The only reason I think that is because the day after the judge made his ruling, a steel bolt showed up on my door. I could bar it from the inside and there wasn’t any way to unlock it from the hallway. No one ever said who put it there. No one even mentioned it. But I think it was my adoptive mom. Whoever did it, that bolt was the only thing that kept me sane, gave me hope that one day maybe things would get better.”
She sat back and brushed at the tears on her cheeks. “I think I would have died of loneliness and despair if it hadn’t been for Tracy and her family. I began spending more and more time with them, until I rarely ever went home. My family didn’t care, of course, as long as the trust fund checks kept coming in every month. The moment I turned eighteen, I was out of there. And I’ve never been back.”
She let out a shuddering breath. “Tracy and her family loved me and supported me, but even they were skeptical. It was the one wound in my heart where they were concerned. My family, and the experts, had painted such a terrible picture of me that even Tracy believed I was damaged, maybe traumatized from losing my biological parents at such a young age and that I was an attention seeker.”
“How could you have stayed friends with her after that?”
She shrugged. “That’s life. It’s how it’s always been. No one truly believed everything that I said happened. Until you. Why, Adam? Why did you believe me when no one else did?”
“Because I know you, know what’s in your heart. We’ve been through more together in a few days than most people survive in a lifetime. I’ve seen the good in you, the kindness, the honesty. Why would I doubt you?” He opened his arms, and she fell against him.
It didn’t surprise him when she began weeping. If anything, it was reassuring. Crying was her way of coping. She’d just relived her horrible ordeal by saying it out loud to him. The copious tears meant that she’d be okay. Or as okay as she could be with everything she’d been through.
When she started hiccupping, she pulled back. “I’m so sorry. I cry at the drop of a hat. It must be incredibly annoying.”
“Not at all. It’s part of who you are. It shows you’re sensitive and have a wonderful, full heart in spite of everything that’s happened to you. It would break my heart if you ever stop having that capacity to care and feel so deeply that you don’t cry. Don’t ever apologize for feeling and being honest about your emotions.”
She lay back against him, her arms around his waist. He rested his chin on the top of her head and gently stroked her back. They sat that way for a long time, until the air around them seemed to subtly change. Her fingers curled against his shirt. Her breathing turned ragged.
She slowly slid her hands up his chest and entwined her arms around his neck.
“Adam.”
Just one whispered word, said with such a mixture of longing and desire, was all it took to send a jolt of raw lust straight through his body.
Then she pressed her open mouth against his neck and lightly touched her tongue to his overheated skin.
He almost came right out of his chair.
His hands tightened around her, trying to stop her wandering mouth. “Jody,” he rasped. “Don’t.”
She kissed him again.
“Jody, no. Stop. You’re vulnerable, emotional. You’ll regret this later if you—”
She moved to his ear, her tongue doing wicked things that had him hardening in an instant.
He shuddered, his arms tightening around her, drawing her close. No! What was he doing? This was wrong. He couldn’t act on the chemistry that flared between them every time they were close. Not now, not like this.
“Jody, you’re not thinking clearly. You’re not—”
She pressed her mouth against his neck and sucked.
He jerked back.
She pulled back and stared up at him and ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I want you Adam. I need you.”
“You’ll hate me later. When you’re thinking more clearly, you’ll realize that—”
“Do you want me?”
He swallowed, hard. “You know I do.”
“Then love me.” She didn’t wait for his response. She pulled him down to her and kissed his mouth.
He should have been stronger. Should have set her away from him. But he wanted her so badly he ached. There was something about this beautiful, smart, incredibly sweet woman in his arms that turned his knees to jelly. By the time her tongue darted inside his mouth and stroked his, he was already waving the white flag of surrender. He couldn’t have stopped now if a whole army was at his door, trying to break it down. For some reason she needed him. And he needed her just as desperately.
He broke the kiss and gasped for air. Then leaned in and tortured her the same way she’d tortured him earlier. He pressed his mouth against her neck and sucked.
She gasped and almost overturned the chair.
He laughed and pulled back, his mouth hovering inches from hers. “What time did you say Duncan would be here?”
She swallowed, with obvious difficulty. “N...nine o’clock... I think.”
He looked past her to the digital readout over the oven. “That’s not nearly enough time.”
“We’ll make it work!” She jumped off his lap, grabbing the table to keep from falling when she tripped over her own feet. She picked up his crutches. “Hurry.” She shoved them into his hands and took off down the hall, her bare feet slapping against the tile.
Adam was laughing so hard he could barely keep the crutches under his arms as he followed her to the bedroom at his aggravatingly much slower pace.
Chapter Nineteen
Jody stood naked in the middle of Adam’s bedroom, her clothes discarded in a pile at her feet. The click, click of his crutches echoed through the house beyond the bedroom door as he slowly made his way toward her. And even though she’d had the occasional tryst in college and had always wanted them this way—fast, furious, two sweaty bodies seeking quick solace before she shoved the man of the hour out the door—suddenly everything about this seemed wrong.
Because this was Adam.
He wasn’t like the men who’d drifted in and out of her life. Men who, according to her college counselors when she’d sought therapy on her own, were Jody’s way of taking control of her body, in response to the abuse she’d suffered as a child when she’d been completely helpless to stop it. But Adam was different, special. Shouldn’t that make...this...different? She looked down at her clothes, her naked body, and suddenly felt shy, nervous.
Click. Click.
She lunged for the chair by the bed and grabbed the blanket off the back.
The door opened behind her.
She spun around, clutching the blanket against her breasts, quickly shaking it out to cover more of her naked skin.
Adam stopped in the doorway, leaning heavily on his crutches, his face pale, eyes wide as they swept her from head to toe. “What’s wrong? Second thoughts?”
“What?” She looked down at the blanket, clutched like a lifeline in her hands. “Oh. No, no, of course not. It’s just that...” She looked up at him again, took a step toward him. “Are you okay? You look like you’re in pain.”
“And you look scared. Jody, it’s all right. We don’t have to do this. I’ll just go back—”
“No!” She hurried to him, stopping a few feet away. “It’s just...nerves. It’s been a while, since college.” She took off her glasses and tossed them onto her pile of clothes. “I’m not scared. I could never be afraid of you, Adam. I want you, very much. Don’t you want me?” She dropped the blanket.
His gaze dipped. His throat worked. “You have no idea how badly I want you.” His voice was thick with desire.
Feeling more confident now, she smiled and slipped into the role she’d always taken with these encounters. She put her hand on his arm and led him toward the bed. Then she shoved the covers back and lay down. She lifted her heavy fall of hair and fanned it out on the pillow, then held her arms up for him to join her.
Some of the heat seemed to leave his eyes as he stared down at her.
She suddenly felt self-conscious again. “Adam? What’s wrong? Don’t you like the way I look?” Men always did. They loved her thick red hair, her narrow waist, her curvy hips. Her breasts weren’t as large as she would have preferred. But they were firm and well shaped. No one had ever had any complaints. “Adam?”
He swallowed again, his knuckles whitening where he was holding on to the crutches. “I think you’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. And I want you, more than you could possibly imagine. But I want you to want me, too, really want me.”
She frowned. “I do. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m ready. Let’s do it.”
He winced. “You make it sound like a chore.”
Her face flushed with heat, and she curled her fingers into the sheets. “Well if it is, I’m good at it. No one’s ever said otherwise.” She grabbed for the covers, pulling them up to her neck. “I don’t understand you. We’re both adults. We want each other. We should be rolling in the sheets right now, halfway done.”
“Halfway done? Oh, sweetheart. It would take a lifetime for me to love you the way I want to, the way you deserve to be loved. I assure you we wouldn’t be halfway done by now.”
She frowned in confusion. “Are we going to have sex or not?”
The mattress dipped as he sat beside her. “No. We are not going to have sex.”
She crossed her arms and stared up at the ceiling.
“We’re going to make love. If you want to.”
She turned her head on the pillow to look at him. “What’s the difference?”
He smiled sadly. “Everything.” He reached for her hand.
Aggravated, frustrated, she resisted, keeping her fingers curled into her palm.
He didn’t try to uncurl her fingers. Instead, he leaned down and pressed an achingly soft kiss against the back of her wrist. Her skin heated beneath his touch. He moved his mouth along her thumb, kissing, caressing.
Raw pleasure zinged straight to her core.
She drew a ragged breath, fascinated as she watched his long lashes form crescents against his cheeks when he closed his eyes and bent over her arm. The incredibly erotic treatment continued. He worshipped her skin with his mouth, his tongue blazing a trail of lava everywhere he touched. She uncurled her fingers, curious what else he might do. He pulled one of them into his mouth...and sucked.
She jerked against the mattress, her other hand cu
rling into the sheets. Heat unfurled in her belly. Every muscle tightened. Her pulse leaped, her breaths ragged.
And he was only kissing her hand.
He raised his head, breaking contact with her skin. She almost whimpered at the loss of his heat.
“Do you want me to stop?” he whispered.
“Hell no,” she gasped.
His mouth curved into a hungry smile that did have her whimpering this time. She shifted her legs restlessly against each other and held her arms out to him. But he didn’t climb on top of her. Instead, he lowered his mouth to her elbow.
The man seemed to know where every nerve ending in her body was located. He massaged, caressed and kissed her into a frenzy. When he moved to her inner thigh, she came off the mattress, bucking against him.
Still, he refused to hurry, to take what he wanted from her, to slake his body in hers as others had done. The realization shot through her. With others, she’d had sex. This, this was what making love was about. Giving, not taking. Cherishing, gifting her with his body instead of making demands. She’d never experienced anything so incredible, so sweet, so beautiful.
“Jody? Sweetheart? Are you okay?” His breath fanned out across her thigh as he looked up at her.
She realized she was crying. Again. She swiped at the tears. “I’m more than okay. I’m in awe.”
“Good tears, then?”
She drew a ragged breath. “Good tears. Um, you’re not going to stop yet, are you?”
He grinned and slowly shook his head. “We’re a long way from done.” Then he lowered his head and flicked her core with his tongue.
“Adam!”
Where before he’d been gentle, slow, tender, now he was a demanding lover, ruthless in wringing every ounce of pleasure from her that he could. She thrashed against the bed, her hands threaded in his hair as her climax exploded through her. Still he kissed her, stroked her, drawing it out until colors burst behind her eyelids and her toes curled against the bed.
