Secrets In Our Scars

by Rebecca Trogner

  “I did.”

  “Only a precaution.”

  How does he know the razor is my implement of choice? “Precaution against what? Shaving my legs?”

  His glance is quick and sharp. “We’re in a relationship; it’s my duty to protect you.”

  “This isn’t the eighteen hundreds. I’m a grown woman.” I didn’t use it last night, and I’m not using it again. “I don’t need you treating me like a child.”

  “Are you sure? Cause I think you will, sooner than you think.”

  I almost blurt out for Charlie to stay out of this. When will he ever leave my head? “It was Reggie’s,” I whisper. I’ve never connected the three of them together in my head: Charlie; the blade; and Reggie. I remember watching as he’d lather his whiskers and use the razor with such precision. It was magical. He would make me promise not to make him smile but, of course, it was all part of the game, and I always did. “You know what? Keep it safe for me.”

  I stiffen, waiting for a barrage of comments from Charlie. Nothing.

  Perhaps needing some drama, or hating that maybe it was a good idea for him to take the blade, I blurt out, “Did you talk to the doctor? Tell me it wasn’t Scott.” The medic, as Roy called him, who stitched up his back.

  “I have a gynecologist on staff for my female employees.”

  “What are you afraid of?” I don’t know much, but I don’t think it’s normal for a man to be this concerned about my inexperience.

  He’s turned into the private drive for Chadwick Farm. “Breaking you.”

  My knees involuntarily clamp together, and I know he catches my movement. Damn him. “You're overly cautious.” I’m not made of glass. “It’s my sexuality, and if I want to have sex, I’ll have sex.” Which is where I should leave it, but, of course, I don’t. “If it bothers your sensibilities I’m sure it wouldn’t be too difficult to find a man to take care of this matter—”

  His arm presses me back against the seat a second before he slams on the brakes and slowly turns to face me. This is a man I don’t know, his face a mask, devoid of emotion other than the laser-like focus of his eyes on mine.

  “I’m sure you’re right, Miss Aldridge. It wouldn’t be difficult to find a man to take his pleasure from you and leave you bloodied.”

  I inhale sharply as he removes his hand and continues to his home.

  Without saying another word, he opens the door and takes my hand, walking me up to the entrance. “Welcome to Chadwick.” He closes the door behind me.

  My feet sink into an oriental rug. Before there was only hardware flooring. An ornate foyer table with a floral arrangement of orchids and roses sets off the once empty space. The massive staircase curved up to the second floor gleams with polish. Abstract art hangs down the long hallway.

  “The designer made a few changes.” He steps into my personal space.

  I step back, and again, until my shoulder blades hit the closed door.

  His hands run up my legs, spreading them wide and lifting me as he presses himself against the exact spot in desperate need of his attention.

  “Now, what were you saying?” He growls a second before claiming my mouth.

  I thought I’d felt the power of Roy’s kiss. I know nothing. I’m held immobile while he ignites my body with his lips, his tongue, his chest pressing against my breasts as I wrap my arms around his shoulders.

  He’s pouring all his need into the kiss, and it goes on and on until my hips struggle against his grip to grind against his hardness.

  He groans and releases my now-swollen lips to rest his forehead against mine. “The thought of anyone else... Are you alright?”

  I’m like dynamite ready for the flame. Yes, I’m way more than alright.

  “I didn’t scare you.”

  Ah, I see now what he means. I smile and run my fingers through his dark hair and pull his head back. “More.”

  He growls and, without breaking the embrace, carries me up the long staircase to the master bedroom, where he sets me on the bed and slides his hands up my arms to disentangle them from around his neck.

  “I know what your body needs.” He stands between my legs, making me look up at him. “And I’ll be the man to give it to you.”

  He steps back, smooths his tie, and rolls his neck a few times while I’m left on the bed, disheveled inside and out.

  “Make yourself at home.” He nods to the left. “There are clothes for you in the closet. Take your time. I have some calls to make.” He lifts his eyebrow and runs his thumb over his bottom lip. “Since a beautiful woman has had my mind preoccupied all day.” He turns and leaves without a look back.

  I fall back onto the bed, still reeling from his lips and hands on my body and wanting more, so much more. When my heart rate slips into a normal range, I slide off the sumptuous bed linens and look around.

  The curtains are gone, though the wooden blinds are still in place. The carpet looks freshly cleaned. The furniture is new. Modern but not austere, and it suits the room. I inhale the scent of lemon oil and freshly laundered linens. How did he get this done so fast?

  I’m not a clotheshorse, but I love good fabric and stitching. Quality lasts, and everything in the closet is well-made and stylish and a bit sexy. My fingers linger on the delicate bras and panties hung on padded hangers. Some are so sheer it would be like wearing nothing at all. Others are lavished with lace and silk in a kaleidoscope of colors.

  Who purchased these? Did his assistant pick these out? Is this how he sees me, dressed to perfection like a society lady? Or is he merely providing for me? I know he means well, but I don’t own these clothes, and it reminds me of when I was little and playing dress-up from my aunts’ closets.

  I expected something more of the bathroom, which is surprisingly mundane. There is a tub, but it’s no bigger than the one I have. The shower seems like an afterthought and not built for a man well over six feet tall. Of course, everything is clean and polished, but I’m sure Roy has this on his list to upgrade. The bones of the room are good. The ceiling is high, and a balcony looks out onto the gardens below. Lavender and honeysuckle vines should be planted onto a trellis. It would be blissful to soak in the tub and take in the aroma as it drifts up into the room.

  Turning away from the spectacular view, I’m startled when I catch my reflection in the long mirror over the double sinks. The woman gazing back at me has red, swollen lips. Her washed-out blue eyes sparkle like she knows a wonderful secret. I touch my cheek to make sure the reflection does the same.

  “What am I doing here?” My reflection doesn’t answer, but Charlie’s ghost does.

  “All men love a challenge. He’ll find out soon enough you’re a frigid, little cunt.”

  I shudder and bite my lip, hard, needing the pain. When I’m in Roy’s arms, there is no doubt. Perhaps I should listen to his voice instead of Charlie. I shake my head. It’s not Charlie, it’s me.

  I need Roy, his touch, his voice, to be the focus of his ice-green eyes. Taking the steps two at a time, my hand sliding over the smooth banister, I hear Roy’s voice drift up from the foyer. I follow the sound to the library.

  He’s on the phone, pacing, as he does so often with me when something displeases him. I should go in straightaway. Instead, I linger, not sure if the call is private. Not sure how I fit into his life yet.

  “I can’t leave now,” he growls into the phone. “I know what’s in the bloody contract. Yes, it’s fucking because of her.” From his reflection in the glass, I see him rake his hand through his hair. “Don’t you think I know? Don’t you think I tried to stay away?”

  Are they talking about me? Why would Roy want to stay away from me?

  “She looks younger than she is.” He slams his fist on the table, causing the books laid out on top to tremble as if an earthquake had struck. “I’m not a fucking monster; she’s old enough to drink.”

  He’s pacing again and moves out of my view.

  “I need her protected while I’m gon
e. You’re the only one I trust.” Roy walks back to the window. “I don’t care. Do whatever it takes. This is personal now. Break his fucking legs if you have to.”

  I back away, bash into a side table. The lamp teeters dangerously close to toppling over. His eyes register my movement. For an instant, I see the rage in them.

  “Get on the damned plane.” He tosses the cell phone on the table. “Daisy.”

  I run down the hallway, my hand on the front doorknob by the time he reaches me.

  “Daisy.” His hand lights on my shoulder.

  I flinch away and face him. “Don’t.”

  Hands lifted, he backs up giving me space. “What’s wrong?”

  “I need to go. I don’t belong here.”

  “You overheard the call…It’s not what you think.”

  “I don’t know who you are.”

  A deep inhalation of breath doubles the size of his chest. “It’s business.”

  “Breaking someone’s legs.” I lift my eyebrows. “Is that one of your services? Tell me, do you charge per leg or is it a package deal?”

  “I was making a point.” He doesn’t look away and fixes me with his gaze, holding me in place, demanding I accept him for who he is. “I have to leave you. The contract I was on.” He lifts his injured shoulder. “They need us to come back. I was talking to an associate about your safety.”

  My eyelids narrow into slits. “I thought you were a security company for the movies.” Even as I say this, I remember the Titan website. His company provides security and private military. Why didn’t I make the connection earlier? “You’re a mercenary.”

  “Not even close. Our military services are only contracted out to the U.S. Government.”

  I look him over. Everything about him, from the hard, angular bone structure of his face to his hawkish green eyes, his thick and heavily muscled torso, legs like tree trunks, is the personification of a warrior. He’s spent his entire life fighting and protecting. He will never change. Either I take him as he is, or I walk away because pretending he’s only a businessman will lead to both of us being miserable.

  “Whose legs are you going to break?”

  “I can’t bear for you to be afraid of me.”

  I know what his answer will be, but need to hear the name. “Tell me.”

  “I’d cleared my schedule to be here while Jason is shooting.”

  “And now you have to go.”

  “No one threatens what is mine.”

  “I’m not a thing, I’m a person. You don’t own me. And I don’t even understand why you care for me. You could have anyone.”

  He paces in front of me and rakes his hands through his hair. Wary, like he’s afraid I’ll run away, he inches closer until we’re almost touching. “I don’t want to own you. I want to keep you safe. Give you everything you need. To know you’re happy. I’ve never felt that for a woman before, never.” He lightly brushes his finger over my cheekbone. “Asking why I care for you is like asking why I love music or art. It’s not something I can explain. You make my heart beat.” He drops his hand and steps to the side. “I did what was right and stayed away. I fought this, but it’s too hard, too dark away from you.” He reaches around me and opens the door. “But if you don’t want me, I won’t stop you from leaving.”

  “Seeing you angry. Knowing it’s because of me. Knowing what you’re capable of… It scares me.”

  He goes still, and I know I’ve struck a nerve. “What do you mean, capable of?”

  “Killing people.”

  “You killed me,” Charlie whines.

  For the first time, I mentally answer back with a no. I didn’t kill Charlie.

  Roy stretches his neck until it cracks. “I’m not some mad dog.”

  I’ve hurt him. My eyes run over his large hands. How much pain have they caused? And I remember his scars. How much pain has he endured?

  “We all have secrets in our scars, Miss Aldridge.”

  It’s like he picked the words out of my mind, but he’s right, we do. And I know Roy is a good man. I’m looking for excuses to pretend I don’t want him. “Don’t hurt Jason. He’s not worth it.”

  “Fuck Jason. It’s you I’m worried about. Are you afraid of me, Daisy? Do I scare you?”

  “Not the Roy I know. It’s the other Roy, the one I don’t know…”

  “There’s only me, and I’m incapable of harming you.”

  Cautious, like he’s afraid I’ll run, he shuts the door, and I let him wrap his arms around me. My soft curves press against the hard planes of his chest. “I know.”

  He places soft, sweet kisses on my forehead, my cheeks, and my lips as he carries me upstairs.

  “When do you leave?”

  “Tomorrow evening.” He places me back on my feet, takes my hand, and walks into the bedroom. “I’ll be gone at least a week.”

  “We need more time.” What if he’s hurt again? I won’t let myself think about what it would be like if he didn’t come back. “Can’t you send someone else?”

  He shakes his head. “I need your body against mine.” He tosses his jacket over the back of a chair. “It’s weak, I know.” He pulls his tie free and lets it fall where it may. “I can’t read you. Are you ready to bolt? Do you want to stay?” The top button is released and each subsequent one until he yanks his shirt free and rolls his shoulders out of the garment.

  Eyes are the gateways to the soul, and they seek out what attracts them. Right now, Roy is all I see, all I want. I’m not sure what wanting him fully means, but my body has no time to wait for my mind to catch up.

  “Tell me you aren’t afraid.”

  “I’m not,” I whisper. With Roy’s bare chest and his desire clearly displayed by the hardened outline stressing the seams of his pants, I find it difficult to think of anything but the Technicolor memory of him naked in my bathroom. “Oh!” Muscles I didn’t know I had, clench deep inside as he runs his thumb over his lower lip. Yes, I want those on my body.

  He moves with muscled grace, like he’s stalking me. “Did you mean it,” his voice husky, “what you said last night?”

  There’s no doubt what he’s referring to. When I don’t answer, he moves to the bed, standing so close I have to lean back on my arms to see his face. “You made me promise to make you come.” His tongue lightly skims over his lip. “You remember?”

  Yes, I remember, and squeeze my thighs together.

  His eyes catch the movement.

  “I was drunk and…”

  “Quite.” His hands press into the mattress on either side of my hips, our lips almost touching. “You know what I think?” He lightly kisses my neck. “I believe you're aroused by me. And it scares you.”

  My head falls to the side, giving him full access to my neck. His hand, warmer than my skin, slides between my knees, coaxing them open until he kneels between them.

  My legs, stretched wide by the width of his massive shoulders, shake. My fingers timidly trace over his thick shoulders. His hand slides around the back of my neck, pulling my mouth to his, and immediately his tongue presses between my lips. I welcome the strange sensation of having him inside me. His hand glides underneath my shirt, the slight roughness of his fingers marking me as he moves up to my sore breasts and I press into his palm like an offering.

  With the snap of a hypnotist’s fingers, the desire I’ve long repressed roars to the forefront and refuses to be denied. I’m frantic with the need to rub my skin against his. My shirt tangles in my grasp. Roy rips it down the middle, and it hangs in shreds along my sides.

  “So beautiful,” he growls, his hands encircling my waist, his eyes branding me.

  I’m wanton and needy, and my fingers fumble at the clasp of my bra.

  “Here.” His hand runs around my back and releases the catch, freeing the straps until only his eyes cover me. He groans. “Your breasts, your fucking breasts.” And he descends on them, drawing the tender flesh between his lips. Sucking each nipple, teasing and pinching until
my back bows and my fingers pull his hair, drawing him closer to me. I need more, so much more.

  With a groan, Roy releases my breasts, now swollen and deliciously sore, and runs his hands over my calves, under my knees, and to the top of my inner thighs. “I want to lick and suck and taste you.” His eyes travel over my body as he cups his hand over my core. “Here.”

  There’s no thought process, only stimuli and response, and immediately I’m backing away from him, not because I’m afraid, but to give myself room to get out of my jeans.

  At first, he rests back on his heels—until he realizes what I’m doing and efficiently frees my legs until my jeans go flying. My serviceable, cotton panties follow seconds later.

  With his hands around my waist, he yanks my ass to the edge of the bed, bringing us face-to-face. “Promise me,” he growls. “You’ll tell me if you don’t want something. Anything that triggers bad memories.”

  “What?” I’m an amnesiac unable to remember what he’s referring to. “Please,” I beg, “don’t stop.”

  “Lay back, baby.” Lightly, his hand rests on my stomach, urging me to relax. “I’ll take care of you.” Running hands up my leg, he rests my thighs on his shoulders.

  It’s deeply intimate, and my newfound confidence falters as I think of his mouth, there.

  “So sweet,” he murmurs, reassuring me, kissing the tender flesh of my inner thighs.

  “Please, Roy, not there.” Not the scars I carved after Charlie.

  “Stop him,” he hisses.

  Go away, go away, GO AWAY, I inwardly scream.

  “Shh,” he murmurs. With his tongue, he traces each scar. “So beautiful.” His warm hand rests flat upon my abdomen. His tongue, thick and flat, glides over my opening and up to my clitoris.

  My back arches off the bed.

  “Fuck, Daisy.” He licks me again. “So fucking sweet.” He goes back to devouring me. “I’ll never get enough of you.” He groans and continues the delicious torture.

  I throw my head back in frustration. His tongue doesn’t stay long enough where I need it. “I’m dying.” I lift my hips to his mouth when he hits exactly the right spot. It’s like trying to swim ashore only to be swept away again and again.