“Badge, I’m not mad.” She recovered the step she’d taken away from him, and added two more. If they both reached out, they could hold hands.
“You should be mad. I was a dick to you. Worse than that.”
She shook her head. Old news. “How are you doing? You’re wearing your kutte.”
He looked down at the leather. “Yeah. They let me stay. I’m okay. It’s hard to be here. But I’m clean.”
“That’s good. I’m glad. I was worried.”
He looked down at Weasel and then out, past her, at or beyond the grounds. “Well, anyway. I’ll see you, I guess.” He turned back the way he’d come.
“Badge, wait.” He stopped at her call, just at the corner, but he didn’t turn around.
So she went to him, walking around to face him. “I’m so glad you’re better. I missed you.”
He lifted his hand and brushed his fingers over her bottom lip. Just a trace of the split was left. “I can’t believe I hurt you.”
The feel of his hand on her face, his fingers on her mouth, made her body tense and shiver. The pads of his fingers were rough and hard, but his touch was gentle. She pursed her lips and kissed them.
His eyes, even more luminous surrounded by the dark skin of his bruises, seemed to spark when she kissed his fingertips. He took another step, and his hand slid from her mouth around to grip her neck—but gently, without any intent to hurt or force her. She felt his fingers threading into her hair.
“Adrienne.”
Not knowing what to say, she nodded. And he bent down and kissed her.
She loved the feeling of his beard on her face. Since she’d known Badger, she’d dated another guy with a beard—they’d dated for a while, in fact—but Patrick’s was coarse and sparse, with not much hair under his bottom lip. Nothing like Badger’s, which was full and surprisingly soft.
At first, he just moved his lips lightly over hers, but she wanted more than that. She wanted something to happen between them; she’d wanted that for years. She could feel him wanting her, even though he was barely touching her.
Deciding to rectify that situation, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. Now they were touching at nearly all points, from their legs to their mouths, and she knew for an empirical fact that he wanted her. He grunted at the contact and opened his mouth. Adrienne opened hers, too, and when their tongues touched, she heard herself moan. She liked the sound, and she did it again—and felt him pressing even harder against her stomach.
He groaned into her mouth, and his other arm, the one not attached to the hand clutching her hair, went around her waist and held her tight.
And then he broke away from her, gasping heavily, letting her go as he stepped back.
She could have stomped her foot like a four-year-old. She was gasping, too, and she didn’t think she’d ever been as turned on as she was right then. But here he was, backing off. As usual. She thought about calling him on his crap, but she was too hurt and frustrated.
“Okay. Sorry. I’ll see you around.” She turned, but he grabbed her hand.
“No, wait…I don’t…want you to go.” He took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to stop. I just couldn’t breathe. My nose.” His hand came up and waved at his broken face.
“You didn’t want to stop?”
“No. I’m tired of stopping. If you don’t want to stop, I mean.”
Talking in circles was not what she wanted to be doing. “What are you saying, Badger?”
“I’m saying…I’m saying I don’t want to be friends. Just friends, I mean. I want more.”
That made her smile. But: “Show doesn’t want us even to be friends.”
“I know. But I didn’t promise him anything.”
“Neither did I. But he’ll be pissed. His pissed is scary.”
“Yeah. But it’s not his business. And it can be just between us, for now. If you want that.”
“Sneaking?”
“Private. But Adrienne—I’m… I’m just different from what I was. Not all of it was the Oxy. I’m not like I was before. I don’t think I can be.”
In his eyes, she saw the Badger she knew. They were different, she saw that, but they were also the same. And she didn’t care if he was different, as long as he wasn’t mean. She was different, too; she could almost feel herself becoming somebody else, like pieces shifting in her mind. Maybe they wouldn’t mesh, when all was said and done. But she’d wanted to ‘not stop’ with him for years. He was the only person she’d ever really wanted to ‘not stop’ with.
“You’re Badger. That’s enough for me.” One day, maybe he’d tell her what had happened that had hurt him so much.
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her again. This time, when he needed a breath, he didn’t let go—he just took it and came back in. But they couldn’t make out against the back of the barn forever, the goats milling about behind them and Weasel sitting at their feet. So, after several minutes, she pushed him back.
“Hey. I’m moving out of Show and Shannon’s house and taking a room here for a while.”
He grinned. “So you’re staying? How long?”
Right at this moment, she was thinking she might make a permanent move. But outwardly, she shrugged. “I’m not sure yet. I need to work some things out. But I need to get out of their house so they can start getting ready for the littlest Ryan. I’m gonna go get my stuff. Maybe you could come up tonight, and we could watch scary movies? I could get a pizza from Tuck’s.”
He pulled her close again. “That sounds like a pretty good date.”
“If that’s a date, then we’ve been dating for years.”
By way of response, he kissed her nose.
CHAPTER SIX
For the rest of the day, Badger felt Adrienne’s mouth on his lips. He thought he could still taste her. It was the first day that the need wasn’t on him so hard he’d almost been ready to give his kutte up to sate it. He knew he wasn’t through his trouble; he knew he’d feel that need for a long time, maybe forever. But on this day, after seeing Adrienne and finding the spine to just be straight with her and tell her what he wanted, after finding out that she still wanted it, too—on this day, he did okay. And that was a lot.
While he was still watching her pretty little ass as she walked to her car, he’d known that he was going to have to face Show right away. They couldn’t be ‘private’—they couldn’t sneak. He was working to make his brothers trust him again, and that was the wrong way to start. He didn’t know how much more his face could take, but he’d go to Show tomorrow, when they got back from the weed run, after the debrief in the Keep. And he’d tell him straight. And then he’d take his lumps, and hopefully he’d still be breathing afterward.
But tonight, he wasn’t going to worry about that. He didn’t know how far she’d want to go, and he didn’t know how far he’d try to go. Maybe they just needed a night like others they’d had—watching scary movies, eating pizza, him happy with the feel of her hiding against his arm during the scary parts. Or, during the really scary parts, hiding against his chest.
No. Shit. Not that. Shit.
He couldn’t let her see him. Or touch him. He couldn’t take that. God, if she turned away from him in disgust…
So what the fuck was he doing?
You don’t walk away from someone you love. Ever. Len was in Badger’s head again. He was kind of a nag. Badger stood in the middle of the barn, trying to work through the anxiety and need that had dropped on his head all at once. The animals were put up for the night. Weasel had already done his compulsive circling around his bed and settled in, nose at the door, pointing out toward his charges. It was time to go up to Adrienne’s room. And now he didn’t know if he could.
Fuck it. He was going up. He went into his office and shrugged off his kutte. Then he opened the top drawer of the file cabinet he’d been using as a dresser and pulled out two clean t-shirts. After he pulled them both on over the one he’d already been wearing, he p
ut his kutte back on. He was off the clock and on private time, so he could have left the kutte off, but having gotten it back, he didn’t want it out of sight.
Three t-shirts should be enough. He’d just stay dressed. They’d take things slow. That was right anyway, and it would give him time to—to what? To get a chest transplant? To hope that she’d go blind—and numb? No. To figure it out. He needed time to figure out how to tell her, and how to deal with it if she couldn’t deal with it. He just needed time. A few hours ago, he didn’t think she’d ever talk to him again. He needed some time. They’d take things slow.
“Badge?”
At the sound of her voice, Badger went to the office doorway. She was standing just inside the main doors, holding a flat box. She was so fucking pretty. The late afternoon light shone through her long skirt just enough that he could see the silhouette of her legs. His cock stirred.
“Hey, you.” He had to raise his voice a little to carry the length of the aisle.
“Hey! I got the pizza—half macho meat and half veggie. Come up while it’s hot.”
“Right behind you. Five minutes.”
With a perky little nod, she turned, her skirt floating a little around her legs, and went off toward the main house.
~oOo~
Another thing he hadn’t thought out: there were no couches in the B&B rooms. They were just bedrooms—nice ones, but the only seating was a little chair at a little desk and one upholstered armchair.
So they sat on the bed. At first, it was fine. They sat up and ate pizza and drank soda and started Scream, a movie they’d watched together several times but that still managed to scare her. They’d developed at riff for it, and spent a lot of time talking back to the screen. She always shouted at Drew Barrymore in the first part and could never watch what happened to her.
This night was no different. Except that Badger couldn’t watch Drew Barrymore get gutted, either. Not until scant moments before that scene did it occur to him what was about to happen and how it resonated now in his head. His stomach rolled, but he held it together, staring down at the pizza still left in the box.
He hadn’t even seen what had happened to Havoc. He’d been unconscious. But he knew. He’d been told.
When it was over, Adrienne laughed. “I’m such a baby. That scene freaks me out more every time I see it.”
Badger shook it off and laughed with her. “Yeah. Total wuss. Want another piece of your grass pizza?”
“Totally. And my grass half is way better than your animal carcass half.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. You should come to the dark side.”
In that light, companionable mood, they ate and watched the movie. When it started to get more intense and they’d finished off about half the pie, Badge set it aside. He took off his boots and his kutte, and they sat together, side by side, against the headboard, their legs stretched out. Whenever somebody died or was chased, Adrienne grabbed his arm and hid her face against it, as she’d always done.
He’d always been turned on by it, but he’d always sat still and let her. He didn’t have to just sit there now. But he wasn’t sure if—he cut off that thought and thought instead of his three t-shirts. He could bring her closer.
He pulled his arm out of her grasp and up so he could put it around her shoulders instead. “Come here, wuss. I’ll keep you safe from the big, bad, pretend monsters.” As soon as his arm was no longer between them, she snuggled close to his chest and put her arm around his waist. His cock went hard, totally, painfully hard, and he looked down to see how obvious that was.
Pretty obvious.
But she didn’t seem to notice. And then Neve Campbell and Skeet Ulrich were making out, and Adrienne’s hand slid under his shirt. Shirts. He could feel her realizing that he was wearing multiple t-shirts, looking for the end of them, and he put his hand around hers and stopped her.
She sat up, the movie suddenly forgotten, and looked at him. “I don’t want to watch the movie, Badge.” She pulled her hand from his and went for his shirts again.
And again, he stopped her. “Wait. Adrienne, wait.”
“No. I know what you don’t want me to see. I saw. It’s okay.”
“What?” He pushed her away and sat all the way up. “What do you mean?”
“At the clubhouse. That day. Your shirt got torn. I saw.”
His head did somersaults. He couldn’t think of anything to say, but now he wanted to leave. Right now.
As if she could hear his thoughts, she said, “Don’t go. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. You don’t know. It’s not okay.”
Rising up on her knees before him, she leaned in and kissed him. His heart thumped once, hard, and then resumed its usual rhythm. When she leaned back, she did something astonishing.
She pulled her top over her head. She was wearing a plain, light pink bra. Satin—it shone a little in the ambient light of the room. “Me first, then.”
Nothing in the whole world was as beautiful as Adrienne was. Her wild hair cascading over her shoulders, her slim, small body, little round tits wrapped in pink satin. Freckles lightly dusted her chest and shoulders, fading out as they approached her little tits. No, not tits—it sounded wrong to use that word to describe her. Cheap. Jerri Rae had tits. Adrienne had breasts. Her stomach was flat and fair, with a subtle indentation down the middle, like an arrow pointing to the delights of her chest. He swallowed, and his dry throat made a rough, stuck sound. So badly he wanted to touch her, to feel the silk of her skin. To taste her.
In a million lifetimes, he could not allow the corruption that was his own body anywhere near the perfection that was hers. Her top was still in her hand; he took it from her, turned it right-side-out, and handed it back. “No. You should put this back on.”
Hurt bolted through her eyes. She sat back on her heels and took her top, holding it over her chest like a shield. “Badge, please. Don’t say that.”
“You’re beautiful, Adrienne. God. You’re so perfect. I can’t—you don’t want—you don’t know.”
“Badger. Pretty much the only thing I know that I want in my whole life right now is you. I know what’s under your shirt. It’s okay. I promise it’s okay. Trust me.”
Her last plea is what settled him. Trust was almost all he’d been thinking about since he’d been able to think clearly again. How to become trustworthy. How to trust. What trust even was. He got off the bed and stood, his back to her.
“No! Badger—”
“Just wait.” He grasped the hems of his shirts in his fists and took a deep breath, deep enough that he felt the blasted pull of skin and scar tissue fighting each other. He pulled the cotton in triplicate over his head and tossed it away. And then he was stuck. He looked down at his bare chest and couldn’t turn around.
The bed squeaked softly, and he felt Adrienne’s small, soft hands on his back. She was standing behind him. She pulled the band from his ponytail and combed his hair out. He closed his eyes at the gentle tug of her fingers through his long hair, and the light, tickling touch of her little nails on his skin. With a sweep of her hand, she pushed his hair over his shoulder, and then she caressed his back and shoulders, kneading gently. He groaned—it had been months since he’d been touched in this way, his bare skin. And really, he’d never been touched like this. Not ever.
She kissed the middle of his back. “Your back is beautiful, Badge. You shoulders are broad and strong. You’re so strong.” Her hands slid over his waist and pressed them flat to his belly. Only inches from the horror, which began not far above his navel.
He could feel the satin of her bra, and the swell of her breasts, against his back.
“Turn around, Badge. Please. Trust me.”
He turned around, his eyes closed.
They opened at the strident sound of her gasp, and he saw her hand over her mouth.
“Fuck. Fuck. I’m sorry.” He stepped back quickly, out of her reach, and bent to grab his shirts and get the fuck ou
t. He needed to get out. Get out. Out.
“No wait—Badger, wait. I’m not—I’m not scared. I’m just—I’m sad. I’m so sad for you. I can’t think of how that must have hurt. Please don’t go.” She was crying.
Fuck! Everything was wrong. He would never have anything like this, like her. Ever.
But then she grabbed his arm. “Don’t go. Please.”
“You deserve more than this. Than me.”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she reached back, unhooked her bra, and drew it from her shoulders. While he was stunned to stillness by the mesmerizing beauty of her body, she stepped up close and rose up on her toes. She looped her arms around his neck, pressing herself tightly to his body, her perfect skin on his deformity. She laid her cheek on his chest.
In the background, somebody on the television screamed.
He brought his hands to hook around her sides, over her ribs, intending to push her off. But she felt so good. He couldn’t feel the press of her body against his scar, not the swell of her breasts on him, but still he could feel her everywhere else. He could feel her inside, making his heart thump. She turned her head and kissed his chest.
“Adrienne.” The break in his nose compounded by the turmoil in his heart made his voice sound gruff and strange to his own ears, almost mechanic.
She tipped her head back and looked up at him. Her hair swayed softly and brushed over his hands.
She’d seen the worst of him—body and soul, she’d seen the worst. And what he saw in her vivid blue eyes was not fear or revulsion. He recognized exactly what he saw.
“Adrienne, I love you.”
Her smile was sweet and sincere. “I love you, too.”
As he bent down to kiss her, he slid his hands down her sides and over her hips, clutching her thighs and pulling her up off the ground. Without hesitation, she circled his hips with her legs, the flowing skirt she still wore wrapping around them both. He walked back to the bed.
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