asked. "He didn't just hit your mother, did he?"
"No," she said.
He dipped his head to hear the whispered confession, kissed her softly on the cheek and then stayed there, his lips next to her right ear. "Tell me."
"It was just that once. I'd always been scared it would happen, but it only did once, and then we left. Not that we were done with him. The damage had been done to my mother's body then, and she was pregnant with Grace when we left. He found her one more time, after Grace was born, and that time, she never recovered. He's in prison now, and I promised myself I'd never be that scared again. That no one would ever make me feel like that again."
"Good for you," he said.
"I feel that way now, Rye. My father made me feel that way and now Mark has, and I'm so mad at myself for being in this position again. I'm falling apart, too, and I hate that even more."
"Shh." His breath brushed past her cheeks, her lips. He kissed her closed eyelids, kissed a tear from her cheek. "Emma. It's all right. It's done."
She sobbed, clinging to him even harder. "What makes a man think he can do that? That he has the right?"
"I don't know. But you're not going to let anyone treat you like this. This is going to be over, and you'll put it behind you."
"I don't feel fine right now. I feel like Mark could come barging in here any minute."
"Hey." He took her face in the palm of his hand and tilted it up to his. "I've got you. I'll stay right here."
"You said you had to leave."
"Well, now I've got to stay, as long as you need me." His forehead came down to rest against hers. He kissed the tip of her nose. "Promise."
"You must think I'm awful," she said, not quite able to meet his gaze. "That I'm such a mess."
"No. Just scared. You're caught up in something crazy. It happens. Life can just explode around you, and all of a sudden, nothing makes sense. You really can't do anything except hang on and try to ride it out."
"You know that?" she asked, the tears running down her face faster than he could catch them and wipe them away. "It's happened to you?"
"Yes."
"But you made it," she said. "You're okay."
"I think I'm still caught up in it, too. That really crazy time. That maybe I'm just starting to come out on the other side of it."
"Then you can hang on to me," she said.
"Emma—"
"I feel safe with you. I feel perfectly safe right here with you."
She felt the tension coming into his body. They'd been close, still were, and he'd been kind and so very tender, gentle and heartbreakingly sweet. It had been intimate without being sexual at all, and now it seemed she'd crossed that line, as she kept doing with him, and made it something else.
"I need you," she said. "I forget to be afraid when I'm this close to you. I forget how bad things are and how stupid I must have been. I can lose everything, all the bad things. In you."
And then, despite all his protests, she leaned over once again and pressed her mouth to his.
* * *
He didn't mean to let her draw him in one more time, but dammit, the woman had the sweetest-tasting mouth he'd ever known.
She was so soft, so good. Sometimes she felt like everything good in the world, all wrapped up in a tiny package and handed to him.
He'd warned her about himself every way he knew how—except to blurt out the brutal truth of who he was and what he'd done. That would solve all of this She'd run so fast in the other direction, he'd never have to worry about her being this close to him again.
But he didn't tell her, because he wanted her hands on him and her mouth. God, how he wanted it.
He tried telling himself he could have just a little bit of her, took that innocent, thank-you kiss and tried very hard to keep it light.
Necking in front of the fire with Emma.
He could do that.
Rye angled her body around until she was facing him and leaning into him, until he had her pressed securely against his body, and he could drink from her mouth, long, sweet, drugging kisses. Taste after
"No," she said.
He dipped his head to hear the whispered confession, kissed her softly on the cheek and then stayed there, his lips next to her right ear. "Tell me."
"It was just that once. I'd always been scared it would happen, but it only did once, and then we left. Not that we were done with him. The damage had been done to my mother's body then, and she was pregnant with Grace when we left. He found her one more time, after Grace was born, and that time, she never recovered. He's in prison now, and I promised myself I'd never be that scared again. That no one would ever make me feel like that again."
"Good for you," he said.
"I feel that way now, Rye. My father made me feel that way and now Mark has, and I'm so mad at myself for being in this position again. I'm falling apart, too, and I hate that even more."
"Shh." His breath brushed past her cheeks, her lips. He kissed her closed eyelids, kissed a tear from her cheek. "Emma. It's all right. It's done."
She sobbed, clinging to him even harder. "What makes a man think he can do that? That he has the right?"
"I don't know. But you're not going to let anyone treat you like this. This is going to be over, and you'll put it behind you."
"I don't feel fine right now. I feel like Mark could come barging in here any minute."
"Hey." He took her face in the palm of his hand and tilted it up to his. "I've got you. I'll stay right here."
"You said you had to leave."
"Well, now I've got to stay, as long as you need me." His forehead came down to rest against hers. He kissed the tip of her nose. "Promise."
"You must think I'm awful," she said, not quite able to meet his gaze. "That I'm such a mess."
"No. Just scared. You're caught up in something crazy. It happens. Life can just explode around you, and all of a sudden, nothing makes sense. You really can't do anything except hang on and try to ride it out."
"You know that?" she asked, the tears running down her face faster than he could catch them and wipe them away. "It's happened to you?"
"Yes."
"But you made it," she said. "You're okay."
"I think I'm still caught up in it, too. That really crazy time. That maybe I'm just starting to come out on the other side of it."
"Then you can hang on to me," she said.
"Emma—"
"I feel safe with you. I feel perfectly safe right here with you."
She felt the tension coming into his body. They'd been close, still were, and he'd been kind and so very tender, gentle and heartbreakingly sweet. It had been intimate without being sexual at all, and now it seemed she'd crossed that line, as she kept doing with him, and made it something else.
"I need you," she said. "I forget to be afraid when I'm this close to you. I forget how bad things are and how stupid I must have been. I can lose everything, all the bad things. In you."
And then, despite all his protests, she leaned over once again and pressed her mouth to his.
* * *
He didn't mean to let her draw him in one more time, but dammit, the woman had the sweetest-tasting mouth he'd ever known.
She was so soft, so good. Sometimes she felt like everything good in the world, all wrapped up in a tiny package and handed to him.
He'd warned her about himself every way he knew how—except to blurt out the brutal truth of who he was and what he'd done. That would solve all of this She'd run so fast in the other direction, he'd never have to worry about her being this close to him again.
But he didn't tell her, because he wanted her hands on him and her mouth. God, how he wanted it.
He tried telling himself he could have just a little bit of her, took that innocent, thank-you kiss and tried very hard to keep it light.
Necking in front of the fire with Emma.
He could do that.
Rye angled her body around until she was facing him and leaning into him, until he had her pressed securely against his body, and he could drink from her mouth, long, sweet, drugging kisses. Taste after
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