She stood up slowly, dropping her hands to the hem of her shirt before tugging on it and pulling it over her head. Her hair momentarily clung to the material and fell back down as she let the shirt go. She was skinny. Her ribs poked out of her skin and her stomach seemed sunken in. Her breasts were small in her pretty, white bra. Lace trim edged the cups. He stared at her, thinking he should turn away. Be the better man. Be a much, much better man. But she was a beautiful, breathtaking woman. And always was so to him. And now she was topless before him. When he finally raised his gaze to hers, she was watching him closely.
He released the doorknob and stepped nearer after another moment. With one hand, he grabbed hers, interlocking their fingers. She looked down, startled, at their joined hands. He was desperate to know what the hell he should do now. And how? How was he supposed to make love to a woman as damaged and broken as Lindsey? A woman who got hurt so many times, she thought it was normal?
“I won’t break, you know.”
“But I might,” he whispered back as he rested his forehead on hers. She breathed in and out until finally, she softly said, “I’m a normal woman. I’m not broken and I’m not ruined.”
“Of course, you’re not ruined.”
“Then treat me like you believe that.”
He raised his head enough to catch her eye and she nodded slowly. Holding her chin, he lifted her lips until they touched his. Her lips were full and soft. Once, long before he understood what was wrong with Lindsey, he often fought the urge to kiss her. He also wondered what her hair would feel like against his hands, and now, he was about to find out.
He tilted his head more toward hers and she responded in kind. He touched the edge of her lips with his tongue and waited a moment before doing it again, gently licking and kissing her teasingly until her tongue touched the tip of his. Then it was like he made contact with a live wire. The shock, like a spark, culminated into a physical reaction deep in his gut that tugged at his dick and his heart in intense, but confusing unison.
How could she turn him on so much?
How could she break his heart in the same moment?
He let her take the lead and kiss him however she preferred. She was hesitant at first and opened her mouth very slowly and sweetly, almost touching her tongue to his and tasting his lips. It was minutes before her tongue was fully in his mouth and he groaned as his ecstatic feelings overwhelmed him. Holy shit! He was so turned on. Which was wrong. So wrong. But he was, all the same.
He slid his hand from the back of her head to her collarbone and his fingers outlined the bones that stuck through her skin, while tenderly rubbing and caressing her. She was almost like a kitten arching up toward him. He slid his lips to the corner of her mouth, then to her chin, and down her neck. She arched her back for him and he felt the sigh vibrating in her throat almost like a purr. Her neck was still discolored and bruised and he touched it with hesitant reverence as the sight of it made him pause.
Gently sliding his fingers to her shoulders, he slipped them under her bra straps. He ran his fingers over her skin, playing, waiting, almost hoping she’d stop him. Slap him. Tell him no. But she didn’t.
Slipping the straps down her arms, his touch caused her skin to break out in goose bumps. That convinced him he should continue. She literally had not been touched with kindness in years. He was terrified to be doing it now and feared he’d do something wrong. Perhaps, by rushing it. He could ruin it, and scar her even more then she already was. But, she seemed to want him so much.
He took in a deep breath and finally slid his hands down her thin back until he found the clasp on her bra and undid it. He loosened the front, and slipped it off her breasts before glancing down at the erotic sight. It slowed his breathing. “If you want me to stop doing anything, just say.”
She nodded her reply. Her gaze lowered. This could not be an easy moment for her. It certainly was difficult enough for him.
He let the bra go and it fell on the floor between them. She inhaled a breath. So did he.
She had flawless, nearly translucent skin. She could have been the subject of a painting of the Madonna from the fifteenth century. There was something stunning, but tragic about her beauty. Her skin was soft and silky to his touch. Her body was long and thin. He gradually moved his hand over her stomach, her back, the indentation of her hips, and up her sides, and his fingertips felt imperfections and some roughened skin. Like scars. She had scars on her back, and some on her stomach. How? What did Elliot do to leave those? What kind of pain did she experience? Was her skin burned? Did she still ache? Or get spasms? What? What did it feel like to get purposely scarred? Even if she fought in a war, her body’s scars couldn’t have reflected a more violent story. Lindsey Bains had obviously suffered untold torture, and Noah desperately wanted to know what such torture could’ve possibly accomplished.
He slid his hand finally to her breast and she gasped at the contact. His thumb and forefinger grasped her nipple, touching, and pulling, until he finally caught the pebbled nub between his fingers. She inhaled sharply, and exhaled with a clear protest. Noah let go.
“Elliot did that. Too much. And way too hard.”
Okay. He would definitely not do that again. But should he continue? She touched his hand, and pushed it back to her bare breast. He hesitated before finally cupping it softly in his hand. Gently. Whatever he did, it was always gentle. And slow. He had to make sure not to do anything too hard or too much, and he treated her like a fragile, priceless doll.
He touched both of her breasts, and held them before rubbing them as he kissed her. She kissed him back and arched her body into his with a groan of pleasure. At least, he hoped it was pleasure.
He parted from her long enough to turn and sit on the bed, pulling her hand so she was with him. Then he leaned back so they were stretched out, side-by-side, on the bed. Her hands touched his stomach and he jumped in surprise at feeling her fingers on his bare skin. His stomach rippled in delighted response. She ran her fingertips over his stomach, and up his chest. He reacted by leaning into her and kissing her more. She opened her mouth sooner this time and let his tongue explore it.
The fire started erupting, churning his gut and tugging him insistently lower. He drew back and shrugged out of his shirt. Resting on his knees, she suddenly sat up and put her arms around his neck as her breasts flattened against his bare chest. Suddenly, all of his previous thoughts left him. She wasn’t so tragic, scarred, or a “mistake.” Suddenly, she was a hot, topless woman, kissing him as her hands tangled through his hair and her tongue tangoed with his. He ran his hands over her breasts, this time with more pressure, making her sigh when he pressed them. She ran her hands down his back, and dipped her fingers beneath his waistband, where she touched the top of his bare ass. His entire body nearly ejaculated in her hands. Jesus. She should not do such things. This needed to go much slower, smoother, and calmer.
He pushed her back and tried to gulp in a lungful of air. Scarred. She was scarred. This was not normal and their sex could not be normal. It should not feel so good to him. What was wrong with him? Why was he getting so turned on by this? By her? He must be a monster. A sex-starved, raging jerk.
She didn’t seem to get the message though. Her hands came to his belt buckle. Her fingers were shaking and she couldn’t unbuckle it. Maybe that was sign. She probably shouldn’t do it. But, he sighed and did it for her, resigning himself to the fact he was going to hell. There was no doubt in his mind of that.
Tossing the belt aside, he hesitated. What should he do next? How far should he take it? He pulled his wallet from his pocket and grabbed the condom from there. He could at least do that right. She looked down at it, then up into his eyes.
She never dated. As far as Noah remembered her history, she was still a virgin at the age of twenty-four when she and Elliot got married. Everyone knew that, thanks to one of Jessie’s stunts. After that, she was married to her torturer and therefore, at his mercy, or lack thereof. She did
n’t know about things like having casual sex. Fun sex. Sex for the sake of pure pleasure. She probably also didn’t have to worry about condoms.
Elliot must not have wanted kids, or he didn’t doubt that she’d have one.
“I tricked him.”
Noah paused as he set his wallet and glasses on the nightstand, putting the condom where he could find it. He straightened up and came back to her. “How?”
“I had an IUD put in. Before we moved to Virginia. Before he took my car and cash away. I snuck into a health clinic and had an IUD inserted. They last for five years. So I knew for at least five years, I couldn’t conceive his kid. That’s why I don’t have any.”
He pulled her to his chest and hugged her. What the hell was there to say to that? Elliot took her car away from her? Her cash? Did she have nothing left? But then again, he already knew that. He knew better than anyone the dependent subservience Elliot insisted she show towards him.
He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks, and her mouth, running his hands down her arms, her sides, and her back. By the time he put his hands beneath the elastic of the yoga pants she wore, she lay down compliantly. He slid them off her hips, and she lifted her butt off the mattress, until they passed her toes. She wore black lace underwear. He leaned back on his heels, somewhat shocked at such sexy underwear. She certainly couldn’t have been planning this today. Why did she have them on?
“He required that I wear them. At all times. They are all I own.”
His eyes fell on her face as she nodded at her panties. He swallowed in pain. What should he say to that?
He carefully tucked a finger in the waistband and waited for her reaction. She again, lifted her hips up and he darted a glance at her. She nodded. His hands felt as awkward as when he was a teenager, trying it for the first time. It was hard, so much harder than he ever thought to know how to make love to a woman who never had it in a normal, healthy way.
He finally managed to strip her naked only to find more scars. They were located on her thighs and even on one of her calves. He looked back towards her face and touched her lips with his finger. “Was it ever good for you?”
“Not really. In the beginning, it wasn’t as terrible.”
Until it became terrible. He got it. He just didn’t know exactly what to do with it.
“Noah, it’s okay. I am pretty sure that anything you do could not be terrible.”
He didn’t know how she did it. Or why she thought this was a good idea.
He took a deep breath and lowered his head as he touched her breast with his lips. He kissed her nipple, then took it into his mouth and rolled his tongue over it. Her back lifted off the mattress and she held his head against her. He did it again, and again, and again. He switched nipples. She moaned and flopped back. He glanced up, noticing her eyes were closed, and her mouth parted. He nearly prayed. She was enjoying this. It felt good to her and not terrible.
Her lower half squirmed. His legs were next to hers and she lifted her leg and put it over his. Her body was reacting the way it should. He didn’t think that was faked. Why would she bother? He kept his mouth on her nipple as he slid his hand down further and touched. She stilled at first, then he put a finger inside her. He rubbed her until the wetness started to slicken her opening and his fingertips, finally grasping her clit. She startled and gasped, lifting her hips toward his hand. Didn’t Elliot ever touch her? Hadn’t she ever touched herself? He assumed by her startled, nearly frantic reaction, that she had no idea her body could even feel so good.
Her head flopped back and forth as she bit her lip and gasped. He sucked her nipple and caressed her with tenderness, as if she were a tiny, broken bird about to be crushed under him. He twirled her nipples between his fingers and sat back and watched her. She was so beautiful. She was turned on, alive, and fully present. She gasped and moaned, as he felt like his hand might melt from the fire he kindled inside her. Finally, moving lower, his tongue touched her excited nub. Again, she jerked as if he totally surprised her. He tasted, smelled and touched her more. His heart felt like it could break from wanting her so much. From loving her right now. From seeing her like this.
Moving his mouth off her, he kissed her again as her body tightened and convulsed. She was nearly screaming for a release that seemed as alien to her as it was unexpected.
She moaned and sighed his name, along with God. Her eyes were tightly shut and he waited until she descended from her spiraling orgasm before he moved off her. Slowly, she quieted and at length, her eyelashes fluttered open.
“Give me your hand.”
She turned her head with a jerk to look at him. He nodded at her hand, which lay limply by her side. She raised it to his. His heart turned over with joy, seeing that she trusted him. He took her hand and set it between her legs, but she quickly pulled it back. “What are you doing?”
“Showing you how to do it.”
He used his fingers to place hers where he wanted them. She kept her hand limp and lifeless, but eventually got the idea. “Now press.”
“No. I can’t do that.”
“You should do that. You’re beautiful when you do.”
She lowered her eyebrows, looking annoyed and puzzled. Finally, she moved her fingers a bit before blinking with surprise. Arousal. It was quick and obviously overwhelmed her. His stomach tightened in response, as it was difficult not to. She raised her knees and lifted her hips into her hand. Her eyelids fluttered shut again and he watched her as she used her hand while moaning in response and squeezing her eyes tightly shut. He took her other hand and set it on her breast. She frowned again and opened her eyes. She acted like she’d never done any of this before, but finally rubbed her nipple. Then she did it harder, almost crushing her breast with her firm grip. Her hips again jerked in response to her own touch. His entire body reacted as if she just touched him.
“Oh my God,” she chanted softly. He smiled, finding something so innocent about her first learning that she could actually do that to herself. Or do it at all. Maybe she never had. It was infuriating to think she received nothing but pain from something that most people called pleasure, and an expression of their love for another. Though he also did it for pleasure, there was more often than not, caring and intimacy in all the relationships he had, so that it only enhanced the relationship. He wondered what it was like to have that used against you.
She suddenly slid her hands off herself and put them on him. Turning, she wrapped her hands around his shoulders before kissing him on his shoulder, his collar, and his neck. He leaned into her ministrations, finding it impossible not to crave her body. He closed his eyes, feeling things he never imagined filling his heart. God, this was more than affection or lust. This was so much more. He’d never really been in love, but felt pretty sure this had to be it. These feelings. They could not possibly be anything else. It wasn’t like he could mistake it for infatuation.
Rolling her onto her back, he lay beside her as he tucked a clump of hair behind her ear. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Unzipping his jeans, he peeled everything off and put the condom on. He rolled over towards her and came back along her side, until he was hovering over her. She opened her legs, placing her knees wide apart and cradling him while her body heat blazed on. He groaned at the sensation. All he wanted to do right then was slam into her, boiling, heated core, but he resisted the urge. He ran his hand through her hair and touched her cheek before kissing her long and deep.
Her hands felt cool and soft as they caressed his back, his waist, and finally, his bare butt. She squeezed and kneaded. Did she like what she found? He had no idea. But his entire body was suddenly aflame as blood rushed to his skin’s surface and his pumping adrenaline nearly stopped his heart with excitement.
She pushed down, and he got the message, sliding into her. She relaxed her thighs and it was… perfect. He didn’t know how else to describe it. He fit perfectly inside her. He closed his eyes and le
t the white-hot, intense pleasure of being inside her fill his mind. He resisted the desire to urgently move fast and deep and hard as he could. No! Not with her. This was not about his pleasure. This was not about normal sex. This was more. So much more.
This was the woman he truly loved.
Suddenly, the act took on new significance and an intensity that was lost to him before now. She squirmed under him, and he took it to mean she was okay. He moved and she responded. Her body heat practically scorched him, making his skin, his insides, even his eyeballs feel as if flames from an actual fire were heating them. It was so good.
She sighed and moaned, lifting her hips to meet his movements, until finally, he was gone, done, lost in the moment, as he came inside her for his pleasure, not just hers. Christ! He nearly was incinerated by her Sterno-like heat and subsequent screams. She came with a hot, wild abandon he did not expect from Lindsey. Not the Lindsey he now knew, loved, and cherished. But she did. And he finally understood what she meant when she said she would not break. She was trying to convince him she was a normal, functioning woman who deserved to know what good sex felt like. And having it when she wanted to, whenever she liked it, and when it felt good to her. It was just as important as everything else.
Chapter Twenty-One
She fell asleep. Within minutes after he fell to the side of her and wrapped her in his arms, she simply fell asleep. He sighed. This wasn’t like a normal relationship. He didn’t get to celebrate having sex with her and wonder when they could again. He couldn’t get up and go to work while making plans for when they could go out next. He didn’t live here and neither did she. She had just escaped her abusive husband and was a fugitive from her previous life. And he was nothing. There was no room in her life now for him. He would be the mistake she erroneously made. He would be the result of her not thinking right.
The Good Sister (Sister Series, #2) Page 25
