Awaken to Pleasure (6 page)

“But, I’m not yours.”

Taylor’s heart clenched at that quiet statement. Her instinct was to reassure him but she remained silent, aware that
something important was happening between the solemn ten-year-old and the charismatic man in the driver’s seat.

“You are now.” There was no arguing with Jackson’s decisive statement. He turned and restarted the car.

Nick was quiet for a long time. Then he said, “Will I have my own room like I do now?”

“Sure. You can’t sleep with us, after all.” Jackson grinned in the rearview mirror. “You can have one of the two big first floor bedrooms. We’ll be on the second floor.”

Meanwhile, Taylor’s stomach went into freefall. He’d said “us.” Did he expect her to have sex with him from the start in spite of everything? The idea of being with him wasn’t abhorrent, had never been so. It was the fact that she knew she’d freeze up and he’d hate her for it.

Once at the apartment, she sent Nick off to pack enough fresh clothes to see him through to the wedding.

Jackson came to stand in front of her. “Something’s bothering you.” His body language conveyed that he wasn’t moving until she confided in him.

She swallowed and decided to be blunt. “Are we going to be sharing a bedroom?”

His mouth thinned. “I won’t go back on my word, Taylor. You may not have noticed, but my bedroom is part of a suite. It’s internally connected to a smaller bedroom. You can use that. Nick will never know.”

“I hadn’t considered what he’d think if we were in separate bedrooms.” She was flustered, used to providing everything for her brother’s happiness.

Jackson took her hand in his, his dark gaze trapping hers. “You can’t think of everything. Learn to depend on me a little. We males like to be needed.”

“I’m depending on you a great deal.”

The strong lines of his face were suddenly sharper. “Do not just depend on me as someone powerful, but also as a
man. As your husband. You are now in my care.” His rough declaration made her eyes widen in surprise.

“Taylor! I don’t have a suit for your wedding.” Nick barreled out of his room. Worry stamped his face.

Jackson reached out and tousled his jet-black hair. “I’ve ordered you a tux. If you’re ready, let’s head home.”

Nick’s smile strengthened Taylor’s resolve. She’d do anything for her brother. And, she thought, a little shocked, she’d do anything to keep a smile on Jackson’s face, too. She
would not
hurt him by withholding herself—he understood her fear but it was a rejection all the same, telling him that she didn’t trust him. If she couldn’t trust her body with Jackson, who could she trust?

It was a startling insight.

That day was a whirlwind of activity. With Nick tagging along quietly, Taylor went to work with Jackson, helping him organize matters so that the studios could temporarily function without him at the helm. After lunch, she left to meet Maggie, the therapist she’d agreed to see. To her surprise, she found herself comfortable with the older woman who welcomed her into her office.

When she returned to the studios, Jackson simply asked, “So?”

“I like her. It might work.”

Giving her a smile, Jackson went back to work and after checking on Nick, she continued to assist him. They’d agreed to leave town for a few days on the pretext of a honeymoon, so that Lance would have no room to ask awkward questions about their marriage. As Nick was now on vacation, it was decided that he’d spend the time out on a farm, with a friend of his who’d moved out of the city.

“I want to take him with us, but I know we have to give the impression of being on a honeymoon,” Taylor said, late
that night. She was pacing in front of the sofa, while Jackson stood by the window, back to the night, cognac in hand. The amber liquid sparkled through the crystal snifter, momentarily catching her gaze. “I’ve missed him so much. I don’t know if they’ll take care of him out on the farm.”

“You’re overprotective.” Jackson’s quiet declaration stopped her midpace.

Shocked, she clenched her fists. Her temper ignited. “What would
you
know about bringing up a child?”

She thought pain flickered over the rugged beauty of his face but his tone was calm. “I was a boy at one stage.”

“And you think that gives you the right to tell me how to raise Nick?” Just because he was helping her keep her brother didn’t mean he could dictate to her.

“No. What gives me the right is that I can see he’s unhappy and that he’ll never say anything to you, because he loves you too much.”

An arrow to her heart would have done less damage. “Unhappy?” she whispered.

“He’s been getting bullied for being a sissy.”

“How do you know? He just got back from camp.”

“He told me while you were having a bath—he couldn’t hide it after I saw the bruise on his leg.”

“What!” she cried, fighting the urge to wake Nick and check up on him. “Who? I’ll kill them.”

“That’s just the problem.”

“Why didn’t he tell me? What’s the problem?” She couldn’t bear to think of her sweet baby brother being bullied. Why hadn’t he trusted her with this? Why had he told Jackson, whom he hardly knew?

“You’re always sticking up for him. Even at school.”

“You wouldn’t know, but that’s what elder siblings do.” Her hurt made her cruel. “You don’t even know where your sister is at the moment.”

Jackson didn’t blink but she knew him well enough to know that her barb had found its target. The skin over his cheekbones tightened and he looked away from her and over the water vista out the window. The night was peaceful and the water moved in gentle symphony, but inside, she felt like she was crashing and burning. His hurt pained her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, meaning it.

“It doesn’t matter.” He shrugged, shoulders taut under the blue shirt. Jackson Santorini, she remembered, was used to being hurt. His wife had torn into his pride and the world had lapped up his suffering. She even knew that his family never contacted him except to complain or ask for something. No wonder he didn’t keep in touch. It had only been her own feelings of inadequacy at having let her brother down that had made her strike out.

She wanted to kick herself. “Yes, it does.” Walking over, she touched her hand to his back and rested her head against his thickly muscled arm. “I hurt you. And I despise myself for it, for taking out my frustration on you.”

He put his drink on the windowsill and slipped his arm around her. “You know something?”

Relieved that he wasn’t holding a grudge, she said, “What?”

“I think you’re the first person I’ve ever met who really means they’re sorry when they say so.”

And she knew she was forgiven. “I do. So don’t be angry. I know what your family’s like, and I don’t blame you for keeping them at a distance. It just makes me crazy to know that Nick’s being hurt.”

“I showed him some moves.”

Her brows furrowed. “Moves?”

“Self-defense.”

She bit her lip. Nick had kept something else from her. Once, he’d shared every new experience. “And?”

“He’s a natural.”

“But he’s not very physical.”

“He’s never had a chance to be.” He hugged her tight, as if aware that this was hurting her. “Trust him, Taylor. He’s an extraordinary boy.”

She heard the affection in his tone and knew that he meant it. “I hate it when he’s hurting. I hate it!”

“I know,
cara mia.”
The endearment made her want to reach up and kiss him. “Let me help.”

Her instincts rebelled. She was used to looking out for Nick on her own. But, though it was a painful concession, she acknowledged that over the past year, his needs had changed in a way she couldn’t fulfill. He was starving for a male role model. She’d considered enrolling him in a youth group of some sort, but here was a strong, independent male, offering to look after her baby.

Jackson knew he was asking a lot. He wasn’t exactly a prize. What the hell did he know about children? A sharp pain stabbed him. Damn Bonnie for stealing his chance to learn. Taylor’s drawn out silence seemed to signal rejection. His pride told him to withdraw the offer, but the memory of the joy on Nick’s face when he’d paid attention to him pricked his paternal instincts into fighting mode.

“Look,” he began.

“Hush.” Taylor held up a slim hand. “This is important. I have to think.”

He didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. People usually didn’t gainsay him, much less reject his help. Then again, in most cases, it wasn’t a little boy’s happiness on the line.

“Yes.”

His heart clenched at that decisive sound. “Yes?”

“You’ll be good for him. It pains me to know that I can’t
give him everything he needs but I can handle that. I had to think about it because if I make the wrong decision, Nick’s heart could break. I trust you to never hurt him.”

It would be so easy to promise. “At times, I’m likely to do that without meaning to.”

“That’s okay. Even I slip up.” Her candor was followed by a nod. “Just don’t ever do it on purpose.” There was a pregnant pause. “If we part ways after a year…will you promise to stay in touch with him?”

“Yes.” The boy was now one of Jackson’s people, just like Taylor. For the first time, he had the startling realization that even if they never had a child, he might not be able to walk away from this woman.

His woman.

“T
hen I have no arguments,” Taylor stated.

He sucked in a breath. “That’s a lot of trust.”

“I know.”

They stood there for a long time before Jackson spoke. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Her voice was wary.

“Trusting me.”

She was silent for a long while. “It’s hard.”

He made himself ask. “Why?”

“It’s hard to forget.”

“Nick’s father?” Taylor was a sensitive woman. From what she’d told him, he knew that though she hadn’t been able to comprehend why her mother loved that bastard, she’d understood Helena’s pain at Lance’s indifference. It would’ve twisted her impression of what marriage was about. What love was about. Not that he was any closer to the answer, Jackson thought bitterly.

“My mother loved two men. They both left her.” It was a harsh explanation. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forget that lesson.”

“You are telling me that you do not believe you will ever love a man?” he forced himself to ask.

The answer was a whisper. “Yes…I’m sorry.”

“There is no need for an apology,
piccola.”
Anger burned in him for the hurts of her past, hurts that he could not undo, but he didn’t allow her to see that. “We are equals. I know even less of love than you.”

She gave him a shaky smile. “Equals, huh? Are you going to remember that after we’re married?”

“If I do not, you will remind me. So, you do not trust men because of what two of our sex did to your mother?”

“Yes…and because of what the others did…to me.”

Jackson’s heart slammed into his chest at that lost, broken sound. He’d guessed that her sexual fears were rooted in events beyond her assault at the hands of Grant Layton, but having it confirmed was an unwelcome shock. Fury erupted inside him. Used to being calm and in control, he knew that if any man had hurt his Taylor, he’d rip them limb from limb and suffer no pangs of conscience.

He’d forgotten to tell her that while he wasn’t a mobster, back in Italy a branch of the Santorini line was very deeply enmeshed with the mafioso. He could well understand why. Violence and rage roared beneath the surface of his composed front, demanding vengeance. His woman should never have been touched by anyone.

Moving the forgotten glass to a nearby table, he turned and sat down on the window seat. Holding Taylor’s cold hands, he tugged her between his spread legs. Her eyes were bruised against her pale skin but she held his gaze.

“Tell me about the others.” His voice was harsh, a demand
that she submit to his care. He was so angry for her that he couldn’t be the civilized man she needed.

Her head jerked up. Whatever she saw on his face made her eyes widen. “No. No. Nothing like that, Jackson.”

To reassure her, he forced his anger below the surface. “Tell me then.”

Her hands became fists. Then she made a tiny movement that gave away her need to be held. He held out his arms and she fit her wonderfully giving body against him; sitting in his lap with her knees drawn up, feet flat on the window seat beside his thigh and arms tight around his torso. Fierce protectiveness shot through him. He’d never known that he could feel this much. When she began to speak, he tried to remain calm for her sake, even though her words provoked his most primitive instincts.

“I think…after a while, my mother lost hope, or lost the hope that she’d managed to nurture. At first, when Lance didn’t come home for weeks, she’d wait for him.” She nestled herself impossibly closer.

“It was as if while he was out of her sight, she’d convince herself that this time, it’d be different. But, it
never
was.” Her hands dug into his back. “And one day, I don’t think she could fool herself any longer. I’ll always wonder why they didn’t divorce earlier. He was barely around long enough for Nick to be conceived.”

Jackson wanted to hurt Lance for being the cause of the pain he could hear in Taylor’s voice. Only the fact that he was Nick’s father was keeping him safe. “Why do you think she lost hope?” His voice sounded ragged to him but she didn’t seem to notice that he was riding on the thinnest edge of self-control.

“She didn’t wait for him anymore. At first, I thought that was a good thing.” She took a gasping breath. “Then she started bringing the men home.”

He felt his jaw lock. “Where were you?”

“She locked us in our room in the apartment.”

“Us?”

“Nick was a baby. I used to take care of him—I didn’t trust her not to hurt him by doing something wrong.”

Jackson squeezed his eyes shut to blink back tears. Loyal didn’t begin to describe Taylor. She was ferociously protective of those she considered her own. Now he understood why she was so determined to keep Nick safe.

“Sometimes, she’d make me come out and say hello to the men. She’d be drunk and not like my mother at all. It was horrible.”

He froze. “You said nothing happened.”

“I…nothing really bad…” She took a long, deep breath, as if the memories were choking her.

He resisted the urge to order her to tell him everything. “What
did
happen?”

“Their eyes used to crawl over me.” She shivered. “I wanted to throw up. But I could cope with that. Then the men she brought home started to hurt her.”

Jackson’s jaw was clenched so tight that his whole face ached, while his mind became quietly, dangerously, angry. She’d always made him feel protective of her sunny innocence. Now he saw that she’d been hiding very real wounds beneath that smile, and he adored her even more.

“They’d…hurt her,” she repeated, as if she couldn’t bear to elaborate. “I couldn’t stop them. I had to protect Nick because she certainly didn’t. I think she hated him.” Fierce blue eyes met his when he glanced down. “It wasn’t his fault that his father was a horrible human being.”

“Of course not.”

As if reassured, she put her head back against his chest. “Once, I got scared by the violence and I called the police. They came and took that man away.”

Hairs rose on the back of his neck. He knew that her story couldn’t have had a happy ending. “What happened?”

“My mother was grateful. She said she’d picked a real mean one. He got locked up and that was okay.”

“But?”

“But he got out in a couple of months and he followed me home from school. I didn’t know he was behind me until I was crossing a park along the way—I was rushing to get home to Nick. He jumped out from behind a tree and dragged me into the bushes. His hand was on my mouth. I couldn’t breathe or scream.” Her voice shook.

“He pinned me against the tree, out of sight of the path, one hand on my mouth, the other around my hands. Then he let my mouth free but before I could scream, he gripped my throat. I thought he was going to choke me to death.”

Jackson knew she was crying silently and there wasn’t anything he could do but hold her. No wonder she couldn’t bear a sexual touch. She’d been bruised again and again, at the very time that her developing sexuality would have been at its most vulnerable.

“He started whispering about what he’d like to do to a ripe young thing like me. All the things he said…they were sick and disgusting.” Her hand clenched on Jackson’s shirt. “He groped my…breasts while I tried to get him to break his chokehold.”

“You got away?” He needed to know that because if she hadn’t, he couldn’t do anything about the pain she’d suffered. He was a man used to taking control but this time, there was nothing he could do. His sweet Taylor had been brutalized by a man who’d had no right to be near someone so pure and innocent.

“He stopped touching me and started to undo his pants. His grip loosened for just an instant, but it was enough. I kneed him in the groin and took off.”

Thank God she was a fighter. “Did he come after you?”

“Yes, but when I was at school they started this program in my neighborhood. People who were usually at home and were judged good people by the community were asked to have their letterboxes painted bright yellow. That meant they were safe houses.”

He remembered hearing something about a similar campaign. “You found one?”

“I knew there was one just around the corner. By the time he caught up, I was halfway up the drive. For a while, I thought he’d follow me but then the door opened and Mrs. Willis took me in.” Taylor smiled at the memory.

Mrs. Willis had been the only good thing to come out of that day. The kindly widow had made her stay and drink several cups of tea until she’d stopped sobbing. “She rang the police. The man was hanging around nearby—probably thought he’d get me when I left.” She could still remember the bone-crunching, nerve-flaying fear she’d felt that day.

“Did he stay locked up this time?” Jackson’s body was taut against hers.

She found herself trying to comfort
him.
“For a lot longer. I think he got hurt in jail. He never came back.”

He didn’t back off under her soothing but his tone gentled. “Was he the only one?”

“Yes. But the whole time, I kept thinking that one day it could just as well be Nick taking the brunt of some man’s anger.” The blinding fear had been a mother’s for her child. “From then on, when our mother went out, I left with Nick and spent the night at Mrs. Willis’s house.”

“You care for this woman.”

Her nod was sharp. “She treats me like a daughter.”

“Do you keep in touch with her?”

“Yes. But, her health isn’t so good anymore.” Her voice was less than a whisper. Unlike her mother, this Mrs. Willis
meant a lot to her. “I worry. That neighborhood isn’t the greatest but she refuses to move.”

Jackson marveled at her. She’d told him of a terrifying experience, one that she must’ve been constantly afraid would be repeated, and all she was worried about was an old woman’s health. He would ensure that her savior received the best care, because he was in Mrs. Willis’s debt for saving her from unbearable suffering.

“Taylor?”

She looked up, lingering traces of memory turning her blue eyes cloudy. “Yes?”

“Thank you for telling me.” For trusting me, he thought, with bittersweet joy.

Her smile was forced. “You needed to know.” She swallowed and he could see that she was gathering the courage to say something. He waited. When it came, it was so unexpected that he just stared.

“Did you just ask me if I was going to keep a mistress?” he repeated, dumbfounded.

She sat up in his lap, arms folded. “What’s so silly about that? I won’t be providing…what you need and you’re a man.” Her tone was belligerent.

He tried to tell himself that she knew only one kind of man and it wasn’t personal. He shouldn’t feel so hurt because she could be so blasé about giving him to another woman. If she ever touched another man, that man wouldn’t live to regret his mistake. And Taylor? He might just handcuff her to his bed forever.

“I can control myself. I don’t feel the need to have sex with complete strangers and that’s what it would be.” He made no attempt to hide the growling edge to his voice.

“I’ve put my foot in it, haven’t I? You’re angry.”

Her honesty made his lips curve. “I hardly think it’ll be the last time.” Tipping her chin up, he said, “Tell me one
thing. Do you find me personally disgusting or repulsive?” He knew that his big body could be considered brutish and after hearing what she’d been through, he was surprised at the amount of trust she’d already shown him.

She immediately shook her head. “Of course not! I told you, you’re gorgeous. And…I like the way you kiss me.”

“Then, we will try,
piccola.”
He moved the hand on her back, subtly coaxing her awareness of him.

“Try?” It was a whisper but he could hear the faintest trace of intrigue.

“What could it hurt?” Even as he spoke, he realized that it might shatter his heart. It would be worth it if Taylor looked at him with passion in those vibrant eyes.

She lowered her head, uncertain. “What if I can’t?”

“I’ll turn into a monk.” He didn’t bring up their one-year agreement.

There was wariness in her eyes, but she let him hold her. And the next day, she married him, in a ceremony that was quietly beautiful, just like her.

Dressed in a gown that kissed every womanly curve with a lover’s tenderness, her wild black hair tumbling down her back, and her blue eyes fixed on him alone, she was his every dream come true. When he slid the plain gold wedding band onto her finger, she beamed at him and something deep within him started to whisper in hope.

He would rather have spent his life alone than have a string of meaningless marriages like his parents, or a replay of the deceitful and hurtful first marriage he’d barely survived. Some kinds of loneliness were worse than others. But, with Taylor smiling at him like that, he believed that, this time, it would be different.

It would be forever.

Understanding at last just how deeply she lived in his
heart, he decided that the one-year time limit on their marriage was totally unacceptable. The thought of her in another man’s arms, even unwillingly, had almost killed him—he would never let her go by choice. Unless his bride repudiated him, he was in this for life. He’d let her know that when she was feeling a little less overwhelmed by the speed at which he’d pushed for their union.