It all went to shit around Lyla. This was why I ran and had tried so fucking hard to run from her because I knew. On some level, I knew she would be the one to break down my defences and see over my damn walls. I was so tired of running and fighting my emotions. So fucking exhausted with playing a part.
Lyla’s presence. My vulnerability to her. Her questions. Her concern. Her touch. Her love, the love she professed to have for me all combined to chip at the remnants of the walls I’d erected. She wanted answers? I’d give her answers. I was too tired of running and now was going to be the real test. Would the truth make her leave me or stay? My past and present were about to collide and I could only hope we both survived it.
Chapter Twenty Four
Lyla
When Shay dropped to the floor taking me by surprise, I didn’t hesitate and lowered myself to the soft, plush carpet wanting desperately to reach for him and hold him when he wrapped his arms around his body and began to rock.
It was obvious he’d suffered some sort of major trauma in his life and that’s why he lashed out in his sleep and why he pushed people away. My guess was, he felt great shame over what had happened and expected that anyone who knew what it was would be disgusted by it. I had to make him see that I would never think badly of him for what had happened to him.
“Shay, baby.” I inched my way closer to him on my knees, unsure how he would react. He was awake of course so probably unlikely to react as he did if he was asleep, but I was still wary of him. Seeing him like this broke my heart. His pain was so raw. It was tearing him apart and it felt like it was gutting me to see him like this. I desperately wanted to hold him, to try and comfort him.
Reaching out carefully as if attempting to soothe a timid animal, I slipped my arms around him and gently drew him to me. He tensed up for the briefest moment and I wondered if he would pull away, but he didn’t. He let me hold him and he let me run a hand over his hair, smoothing it down as he shuddered and shook in my arms.
I could feel his heart pounding and when he surprised me by pressing his face into my neck, I could hear the distressed catch in each tortured breath he took, and his tears kept flowing, soaking my skin.
I don’t know how long we sat like that. Long enough for it to grow dark outside. The only light on us now being the lights of the city and surrounding buildings that cast a glow through the windows. Certainly it was long enough for my body to start cramping and my knees to hurt but I didn’t move, reluctant to let Shay go.
When I finally got to the point where my bladder was screaming at me and I was sure my knees had collapsed on themselves, he moved, straightening up.
“Lyla, what the hell?” His voice was rough with emotion. “You shouldn’t be on the damn floor. You’re pregnant.” He leaned back before climbing gracefully to his feet and I wondered how the hell he did that after being on the floor so long.
I stared up at him, my eyes moving up every delicious inch of him and as he looked down at me, irritation evident in his expression, I wondered how he could go from one extreme to the other emotionally. Right now, he was frowning at me as if I’d done something wrong.
Just as I debated how the hell I was going to get off the floor given how stiff I’d become, Shay held a hand out to me and when I took it, he pulled me to my feet. As soon as I was standing, I staggered slightly and he held me until the blood flowed back into my legs and my body stopped protesting at suddenly being upright again.
Still, the aches and pains of having been kneeling on the floor were the least of my worries. I needed to pee and badly. One of the not so joyful sides of being pregnant: a teacup sized bladder.
“I really need to pee.” I told him. “Pregnancy is hell on the bladder. I need to pee all the damn time.”
Shay frowned. “Why didn’t you say? You shouldn’t be worrying about me. I’m fine.” He said, but I knew from his expression that he was lying. He was far from being fine.
“I will worry about you because I care.” My hands found his cheeks again. “We are far from done with this conversation but right now, where’s your bathroom? I asked.
“Down the hall. Second on the right.” He told me and I left him to go and take care of business.
Once I was done, I stared at my image in the mirror. I looked pale and tense but it was no wonder really. I was beginning to realise Shay had more going on with him than I first thought and he hadn’t even told me what it was yet. The confident, arrogant Sex God I was familiar with was gone and there was just this damaged shell of a man left. How the hell he’d gone as long as he had, walking and talking, and maintaining an image to the outside world, I had no idea.
I knew he’d been raped, or I was pretty sure at least, that he had been, and in all reality, he hadn’t denied it. I just had a feeling, that ominous churning inside that the truth might be bigger and more horrific than I could cope with. Never because I would judge him or look upon him with loathing and disgust, but too much for me to deal with. Too much for me to be able to help him with.
I left the bathroom, deep in thought and nearly ran into the man himself standing outside the door. My eyes shot to his trying to gauge his mood but he took me by surprise, swinging me into his arms and carrying me down the hall to a beautifully decorated bedroom. Only when we were in the middle of the spacious room, did he lower me back onto my feet.
Nervously I met his eyes again, wondering why he’d chosen to bring me in here, but his lids were hooded and his face devoid of all expression. I felt my heart sink when I realised he was back in defence mode. He was trying to conceal his true thoughts and emotions again. Deciding to let him off the hook for a few minutes at least, I turned from him and let my eyes wander around the room.
It was a big room and a beautiful one. A huge king sized bed dominated the space. What felt like acres of cream carpet covered the floor, with cream walls and chestnut coloured furniture. The only other real colour in the room, was the furniture and linen. The bed made up in a sea of moss green and burgundy sheets, quilt and cushions.
I stared around the room, at the bed and finally back to Shay and as I watched him, still watching me, I had a moment of blinding clarity. I got it. I got him. I – understood. Sex was his coping mechanism.
He couldn’t control his past or his memories but he could control himself during sex. He was the master. He dictated the terms and that was probably one of the reasons why he didn’t hang around beyond one night. Each woman, each fuck he had was his performance. He was playing a role and there could be no encore.
Of course, it wasn’t just that. Playing the Sex God wasn’t all about him getting his rocks off or perfecting his craft. My guess was it bolstered him up when his past just kept trying to drag him down. A hell of a lot of women and a hell of a lot of sex gave him the chance to pour everything into it, but most of all, it gave him a chance to escape.
I’d bet my last dollar that the reason he was so unstable now was without the sex he had nothing to hide behind. Nothing to push back the memories and no way of regaining control. He was like someone who was used to dining on lobster and expensive wine, only to lose it all and forced to survive on bread and water.
I met his eyes again, seeing the hunger in them and I felt my body leap in response. I couldn’t give into him. I had to stay focused on getting him to open up. He was too tempting. Too attractive. Too damn sexy for his own good and mine, for that matter.
My teeth began to worry my bottom lip as I met his silvery eyes again, seeing the hunger intensify in them. They broke away from mine and began to move down the length of me and I knew he was more than likely going to put every effort into seducing me so he could use my body to forget, at least for a little while. I knew first-hand how good he was at it, but I had to be strong. Even in my horny, pregnant state, I couldn’t give into him, even if he started kissing me and touching me.
With that predatory look in his eyes he walked towards me and I did the only thing I could do, I backed up. When he was just a co
uple of short strides from me, I held a hand up towards him which brought him to a sudden halt.
“Shay I’m not going to let you distract me with sex. Just because you’re good at it doesn’t mean it’s the answer to everything.” I said.
He shot me the tiniest of smiles. “You think I’m good at it?” I could see the gleam in his eyes.
“You know you are. Don’t pretend that you don’t know that. Anyway, I know what you’re doing and it’s not going to work. I’ve worked you out. Sex is your way of hiding from what troubles you. I get it, I really do but you say you care, that I mean more? Well prove it to me. I love you Shay. Nothing you can do or say will change that. We’re supposed to be talking. Tell me what happened to you. Tell me who raped you.”
As soon as I hit him with questions I knew were hard for him to deal with, I saw the excitement die in his eyes and his expression went blank. It was like watching a screen come up and I knew he was going to retreat. If he did, I was done. If he wasn’t prepared to let me into his inner most pain and secrets, then I couldn’t have him in my life or around our child one day.
He turned from me and walked over to the floor to ceiling windows that appeared to be a feature of this apartment and he stared out at the lights of the city below. It didn’t matter that he was no longer facing me. I saw his pain in the tension that held his body rigid and I saw the moment he admitted defeat when his shoulders slumped and his head lowered.
God, I wanted to go to him. I wanted so badly to comfort him, to help him with his pain but I couldn’t, because I still wasn’t sure he was going to open up, or whether he was preparing to throw me from his apartment, since pushing people away seemed to be his way of dealing when it looked like anyone was getting too close.
“My father never loved me.” His words were so quiet and so unexpected I nearly missed what he said until he cleared his throat and continued. “I don’t know why he hated me; why he does. It just seemed that any time he was around me I angered him. Even when I was really young, as far back as I can remember, he would say hateful, cruel things to me and remind me daily that I was his bastard son, unlovable to everyone, including him. I tried everything not to incur his wrath but it didn’t matter. He beat me frequently. Never when my mother was around though. He was good at doing it behind her back, but then he had a secret place he took me, to ‘punish’ me.” He stopped and his eyes met mine briefly before turning away again.
“Did you ever find out why?” I asked. “Although there doesn’t always have to be a reason Shay. Some people just should never be parents.”
He turned to me again and my heart contracted at the sadness and pain I saw in his beautiful eyes. “Maybe I just wasn’t lovable? He always told me I was no good. That everything I got was because I deserved it. He would tell me all the time that my mother wouldn’t love me anymore if she ever discovered what a bad, dirty boy I was.”
Hearing his words made me feel like someone had replaced the blood in my veins with ice. I had an awful feeling I knew where he was going with this.
“Your father was wrong. He sounds like an awful man. Don’t listen to him. Don’t believe him.” I said although my voice cracked with emotion. “You are lovable. I love you. I…love…you.” I emphasised each word, hoping he would believe me.
All I received for my declaration was another flash of his silvery eyes. He didn’t believe me. “When I turned 14 my father stopped beating me.” Shay smiled but there was no humour in it. “He found a better way of abusing me. Not only that. It was profitable for him too.”
As soon as the words left his mouth I felt a wave of nausea roll through me and for a frightening moment I thought I was going to be sick. Dread settled low in the pit of my stomach because I knew instinctively, from the pallor of his skin and the fact he was shaking, that he was going to reveal the very worst to me.
“My father made his fortune in real estate. He was good at buying and selling and making a profit but he liked to live the high life. My mother came from money. A lot of money. Her family were wealthy and I believe that was one of the reasons why he wanted to marry her. He seemed to control all the finances and the more he controlled her money, the more he controlled her. It was as if he systematically stripped her of everything she cared about. He hid things from her and I believe he lied to her constantly.” Shay’s head dropped and I noticed the trace of tears on his cheeks. “I blame him for my mother’s death. If he hadn’t treated her so badly. If he hadn’t been so controlling and cut her off to just about everyone, including her own family, I believe she might have noticed much earlier that she had a lump.”
“Oh Shay.” I whispered. Emotion tightening my throat and I couldn’t squeeze anything more than those two words out. It took all my self-control not to go to him and comfort him but I was scared if I got too close he’d close himself off again and refuse to speak.
He didn’t respond or look at me, he simply continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “As I said, my father liked the better things in life. He wanted the best of everything. He started living beyond what he could afford and he spent all he could get from my mother, although she obviously had money hidden from him or there would have been nothing left for her to will to me.” He gave me that sad smile again. “Father took to gambling and sometimes he had great success. Other times, not so much. As his addictions for money and possessions grew, he started to borrow money. The trouble is, the banks wouldn’t lend it to him so he found other ways of obtaining it. He borrowed and heavily from the wrong kind of people. I’m sure my mother never knew how bad it got since he kept her cut off from anything relating to finances.” He stopped and I could see his chest rising and falling rapidly, a clear sign he was becoming distressed.
I couldn’t stand to see him like that and bridged the gap between us, my hands coming up to his shoulders, feeling the tension that held his body rigid.
“I’ve got you baby.” I whispered. “What happened? Please keep going. I will protect you.” My lips deposited a trail of kisses from one shoulder to the other, trying desperately to funnel my strength and love into his body.
“It was always the same two men. They were the ones he borrowed from. Between the three of them, they came up with a contract that would guarantee my father paid out his debt. It was a debt that involved some cash being handed over to pay down the amount owed but mostly the debt was paid out…” Shay began to falter. “It…it was paid out…I…I helped…it was me.” His head came up and turned to me, those beautiful eyes of his filled with so much anguish and pain I felt my knees sag slightly and I had to struggle to not to let him see how much his words affected me.
“Oh god, Shay.” I raised a shaking hand to brush back a strand of hair that had fallen over one of his eyes.
“I had…I had to pay out my father’s debt.” He finally squeezed the words out. “Apparently, I was very good looking and well developed for my age, or so I was told. Those men would come and…and one would watch while the other…the other…” He trailed off and I reached up to kiss his cheek, silently wanting him to continue yet dreading what I knew was coming. “One of them liked to have sex with…with boys. The other liked to watch. My father got off on it.” I could hear the note of disgust in Shay’s voice.
“What did that bastard do to you?” I asked as I moved my arms until I circled him with them, holding him as I brought my body up against his, until as much of me as possible was touching him.
“He held me. He restrained me so I couldn’t move away, so I would be still and he…he encouraged the one…who…the one fucking me to…go…to go harder. He enjoyed it. My father enjoyed watching me being raped and I would see how much. His eyes. The look on his face and…and he would…” He paused, swallowing audibly. “The bastard had an erection. Every…fucking…time.”
Shay fell silent and I really didn’t need him to say anymore. I got it. I…got…it. This poor man had endured such horrendous pain and abuse. I understood why he was the way he was. His father. His
own bloody father had pimped him out to bail his damned ass out of debt and the sick asshole had gotten off on it. What possessed a person to do that? What made a parent hate their child that much?
“How long? How long did…did that happen to you?” I whispered.
“Nearly three years.” His head lowered and my heart broke for him seeing the shame that crossed his face. He was ashamed? He didn’t need to be ashamed. He should be angry and violent. Never ashamed. He’d been raped and abused, and treated like crap. Forced to endure things he had no control over. No way in hell should he feel shame.
“How did you get it to stop? He paid out the debt?” I asked.
He gave a humourless burst of laughter. “That debt would never have been paid out. My father would have pimped me out forever if he’d had the chance. No. I moved out. It was the most clichéd scenario really. I was approached about doing some modelling, but it was on the mainland. I snuck out of my parents’ home with little more than the clothes on my back and some cash and I took off. I hated leaving my mother alone with him but I couldn’t stay there. I couldn’t tell her what happened. She would have been so disappointed in me. Me abandoning her with no explanation is what probably finished her off.” More silent tears trailed down his cheeks and I swept my thumbs through them, trying to stop them, as if halting them could somehow halt the pain he felt.
“Don’t say that Shay. You did what you had to do to survive. If you’d stayed…” I couldn’t finish the sentence because the thought of him becoming so desperate that he might have taken his own life was just something I didn’t want to think about. “You kept in touch with your mother I presume?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Once I was established and working on the mainland I called her. I never gave her any address though. I was scared he might come after me or something. Of course, when she told me she was sick, I was on the first plane back to Tasmania. I dreaded seeing him but I had to come for her.” He closed his eyes briefly again before opening them, and the full force of his pain hit me. “I nearly drank myself to death when she died. I blamed myself for what happened to her. If I hadn’t left I might have noticed something was wrong. I might have been able to save her. She might not have been so quick to knock back treatment and let the fucking cancer take her from me.” He cried before his body seemed to wilt before my eyes and his eyes closed. “Like I said, I used alcohol to numb myself when she died and it was my crutch for a long time. I knew I was on the path to self-destruction though. I needed to find some other way to cope besides booze. That was when I started fucking and fucking a lot. Sure, I’d fucked while pissed on booze but it became like a craft for me. I didn’t just want to be good at it, I wanted to be great at it. Being back here, near him...I needed something…something to…” He trailed off and I lifted a hand to brush my palm over the neatly trimmed hair on his jaw.
Sex God Page 30
