Out Of The Smoke by Becca Jameson Page A

on Liz.
    “I wasn’t raised around nice men. My mom… She jumped from one man to the next. I never knew who my father was. So when Matthew came along, I thought he was my knight in shining armor.” Liz laughed, and then winced as the pain in her back increased. Why did a bump from such a small object hurt so bad? “A quick trip to the justice of the peace,” she shrugged, “and we were married.”
    At his quizzical expression, Liz explained. “I never had another unique opinion again. Not one that mattered to Matthew anyway. The bastard had me wrapped around his pinky and as soon as the ink dried, he had himself his own personal slave to torture any way he pleased. Nothing I did was ever good enough. His food was never hot enough. His clothes never starched enough. His house was never clean enough.”
    She took another moment to swallow back the tears threatening a waterfall down her face. “I thought…I thought if I could just do everything he wanted the way he wanted it…” Her voice lowered to a near mumble. She had to struggle to get her lips to keep moving and follow the instructions shooting at them from her brain. “I thought he would love me, that I could make him love me.
    “On my wedding night he raped me. I was a virgin and he…” She tried not to choke and just get the words out. “He took what he wanted and left the room, left me lying there in my own pile of tears. I knew I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life.”
    Alan reached tentatively toward her, but he didn’t touch her. She was grateful for his silence and thoughtfulness at this moment.
    “Could we move to the living room? I think I need to lean against the couch to keep this ice in place. I’m not usually such a baby, but this really hurts.” Liz tried not to recoil at the pain in her back, but it wouldn’t go away.
    “Of course. Let me help you.” Alan scrambled around the counter and took Liz by the arm to assist her.
    When she was relatively comfortable on the sofa, he sat next to her and took her hand gently in his own. “Go on,” he coaxed.
    “I’ve never told anyone any of this.” The raw emotions started to scare Liz. What if he couldn’t stand her after he heard it all? She wouldn’t be one bit worse off than she already was, that’s what. After more than two years of living in silence, she needed a friend. She needed this man to be the one she confided in.
    “I know,” he stated simply. He started to gently rub the back of her hand with one finger and smiled at her with more warmth than she’d ever seen before.
    “I won’t burden you with the gory details, but suffice to say, when the opportunity presented itself, I ran. I’m not proud of the way I did it, but it’s done now.” A mountain lifted off her shoulders. It was only a start, but it was more than she’d ever been willing to share with anyone before now.
    “Do you think he’s looking for you?”
    “Well, not exactly. Let’s just say I’m cautious. He thinks I’m dead.”
    “I see.” He couldn’t, not really, but she was glad he left it at that. For now.
    Their gazes locked and Liz held her breath. What she wanted more than anything in the world right now was for Alan to hold her. She needed the reassurance that his opinion of her hadn’t been destroyed by her tale of woes.
    Liz concentrated on the warmth of his smooth grip on her fingers. It spread through her body and made her want to lean into him.
    Matthew was the only man she’d ever really kissed. At first, he’d been gentle and sweet. But his kisses had always been rather chaste before they were married. Later, when he’d begun to rape her, he’d kissed her more thoroughly and was a horrible kisser. He was rough and sloppy, and his breath usually reeking of alcohol and smoke, made her gag. Why, then, would she find the need to kiss another man? Why was her gut clenching at the prospect?
    Alan began to lean toward her slowly. Almost imperceptibly. Allowed her all the time