Guilty Innocence by Maggie James Page B

swear, Nat. Not that I don’t enjoy it, because I do. Hell, listen to me rambling.’
    Natalie can practically smell his embarrassment.
    ‘Didn’t think that,’ she manages to say.
    ‘Just thought it would be fun to do it from behind.’
    She doesn’t reply. The voice in her head taunts her again.
    ‘Some women think doggy-style’s degrading, of course. Didn’t mean to upset you, Natalie.’ He strokes her face warily, gauging her expression. ‘You don’t enjoy doing it that way?’
    ‘Never done it.’ Revulsion at the idea bites at her.
    ‘Then how…’
    ‘For fuck’s sake, drop it, will you?’ Shock floods his face. Natalie rarely swears and Mark’s never heard even a mild profanity from her before. Contrition washes over her. Hell, not long ago her orgasm was wrenching gasps from her throat and sweat from her body, and now she’s all snappy and moody. All because of the voice in her head, and Mark deserves better. She reaches out to pull him close, hugging the apology for which she lacks the words.
    ‘Someone’s hurt you,’ he says.
    Natalie stays silent, forcing back the vile memory, trying to drag the hot tears away from the backs of her eyelids. Without success. A wet trickle works its way down her cheek. Maybe Mark will attribute her outburst to some crazy premenstrual dip in her happy hormones if she doesn’t reply. Safety lies in silence, so they say.
    ‘You can tell me, you know.’ His lips nuzzle her hair.
    She squirms uncomfortably, unsure how to handle the unfamiliar male concern. Natalie’s more used to being ignored than comforted by the men in her life. She doesn’t respond and Mark gets the message, simply holding her.
    The next time they’re in bed, though, Natalie senses a barrier between them. Mark seems hesitant, unsure, as though expecting her to push him away again. The sex is clumsy and unsatisfying, a sad sequel to the hot hunger they shared during their first fuck. Natalie panics. Mark’s kind and caring, if a little reserved; besides which, he’s a looker. A guy to hang onto. She doesn’t want to screw this relationship up and if she’s not careful, he’ll think she’s both a moody mare and a lousy lay.
    ‘Frigging fat bitch.’ In her head, rough hands push her to the ground. Hot breath fans her ear. The odour of stale cigarette smoke assaults her nostrils.
    Natalie’s always forced the memory down deep, burying it under layers of denial. It erupts out of her now like steam from a pressure cooker, hot and searing.
    She clings to Mark, hiding her face against the mat of hair on his chest.
    ‘You were right,’ she says.
    He’s quick; she’ll give him that. Once the hot wetness of her tears soaks into his skin, he grasps her meaning immediately. His arms tighten around her.
    ‘Somebody’s hurt you,’ he says.
    She nods.
    Against her cheek, Mark’s chest stops, mid-inhalation. He breathes out, slowly, rhythmically, before answering. ‘You were raped?’
    ‘No.’ She shakes her head in emphasis. ‘Thank God, not that. But…’
    ‘Tell me.’ His arms squeeze her body again. Soothingly, reassuringly. He rocks her back and forth as she sobs against his chest. His mouth touches her hair and to Natalie’s amazement, the memory of hot, mocking breath against her ear recedes.
    Mark’s silent, allowing her the space she needs, waiting for her to cry out all the tears. Natalie’s surprised at herself. She’s known this man only a few weeks, and yet she’s about to expose the scar on her soul she’s never even let her mother glimpse. Mark’s different, though. Her intuition’s already twigged he’s damaged goods, despite the fact he’s never divulged any details. Odds are he’ll grasp how badly she’s also been hurt. If he’s as fucked up as she is, his understanding is a certainty, not a hope.
    ‘He pushed me to the ground, you see. From behind.’
    ‘You didn’t know him?’
    ‘No. I never saw his face. I remember he smelled…’ She wrinkles