EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE (8 page)

“Jesus, Hollin!” He ran a hand through his hair, shifted his weight on the bed. “You’re fifteen. And we barely know each other.”

She stiffened as though he had struck her. He still saw her as a kid. “I know plenty about you. And I’m old enough to know my own mind. To know what I want. To know that I’m in love with you.”

He swore, a long stream of nasty words, some of which she’d never heard used in the same sentence. And then he pinned her with a hard look. “You have no idea what you want, baby girl.” His tone was full of irony.

His remark grated on her, and she swallowed thickly. “I know I want you to kiss me,” she said, ashamed that even her voice was trembling.

“Is that right?” He twisted his body and leaned over her, placing one hand on either side of her shoulders. “Like this?” Pressing his lips to hers, he kissed her softly, then lifted his head.

Hollin shook her head. “No. Not like that. Like you did the other day. With your tongue in my mouth.”

“Like this?” He dipped his head again, parted her lips and thrust his tongue inside. His kiss was brutal, punishing, but she endured it. There was no way she would back down. He’d only think she was a scared little girl.

Lifting her arms, she wrapped them around his neck and held on, her fingers playing with the hair at his nape. In spite of her dizziness, she did her best to match his movements, follow his lead, and use her tongue the way he was using his.

And then the tempo suddenly changed. The kiss grew deeper, more exploratory, more urgent. A wild swirl began to build in the pit of her stomach, spreading outward and reaching between her thighs. His breathing accelerated, and she could feel the pounding of his heart against her breast.

Suddenly, he broke away from her, leaving her mouth on fire. His breath came in shallow gulps as he planted a stream of kisses along her earlobe, neck and shoulder. “Was that the type of kiss you wanted?” he asked, lifting his head to look into her eyes.

“Yes,” she breathed. Outside, the music still pounded. Shrills of laughter and shouting rang through the air, but she tuned it out, wanting only to concentrate on Griffin and what he was doing to her.

He found her breast, teased her nipple through her shirt and bra to a hard peak. “Do you want this, too?”

“Oh, God, yes.”

He stretched his long legs and body to lie beside her on the bed, then casually draped one leg over her thigh, nudging his knee intimately between her legs. But he didn’t touch her . . . there.

Instead, he gave her breast his full attention. He found his way under her top and unlatched her bra with one swift move. He’d obviously done this before, and it irked her.

Moving the top to bare her breast, he dipped his head and drew her nipple into his mouth. Hollin’s hips bucked off the mattress, and her head rolled from side to side. She grabbed at the comforter with one hand and dug her nails into his shoulder with the other. It was such a delicious sensation she could barely control herself.

He released her nipple with a wet, popping sound. “Easy,” he said. “Your breasts are small, delicate, and your nipples are so responsive.” Leaning forward, he licked her nipple, and she emitted a gasp of tortured pleasure. He traced his tongue around in a circular motion. “Do you want more?”

Hollin nodded her head quickly, afraid to use her voice, knowing it would make an embarrassing, quivering, squeaky sound.

Griffin didn’t waste any time. He sucked her swollen nipple into his mouth and pulled, hard. His actions sent blood pounding to her brain, her heart, and something like warm honey pooled between her thighs.

He didn’t hide the fact that he was also aroused. His erection bumped at her hip and thigh.

She tugged at his neck, pulling him up to kiss her. He smothered her lips with demanding mastery, and when the kiss ended, it left her weak and confused.

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispered.

Hollin tried to think. Between her passion drugged mind and the whiskey, it was difficult. She didn’t want this moment to end, although she was terrified of what was yet to come. The words bubbled into her throat and past her tongue. “No. Please don’t stop.”

It was all too much, and yet not enough at the same time. Hollin stared up at Griffin, and once again let him take control. His warm, rough palm seared a path across her stomach, and onto her thigh. Then his fingers crept under her skirt, and lifted the edge of her panties.

She fought the urge to close her thighs, to say “no.”

“Do you want me to touch you here?” he asked, teasing her with a finger.

His touch sent a lightning bolt of pleasure through her entire body, and she fought for a breath. “Yes,” she managed to wheeze out.

Griffin pushed a finger inside her. “You’re tight,” he said. “And wet.”

“I’m sorry.”

She heard him release a heavy sigh. “That isn’t something to be ashamed of. Knowing I made you wet is a compliment, and you being a virgin is a gift.”

“Oh.” She sounded as if she understood, but she didn’t. Not really.

He sought out her center, teased and tormented her until something inside her . . .

“Griffin,” she called out, grabbing the comforter in both fists.

“Have you ever had an orgasm, Hollin?”

She shook her head briskly.

“Well, you’re about to have your first.” His finger dipped inside her, more deeply this time, before spreading the warm moisture to her center. “C’mon, baby girl, let it go. Come against my hand.”

And then she exploded. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over her as Griffin continued to gratify her. Until her tired body went limp. He kissed her then, slowly, gently, thoroughly. He mumbled something she couldn’t make out against her lips, her throat. Something about wanting her.

She nodded. And then he climbed atop her, pressing his erection between her legs, against her pelvis. Rocking against her, the pressure building once again.

She’d never felt so needy. She wanted more. Lifting his T-shirt, she ran her hands up and down his hard back, feeling the heat and dampness of his skin.

He smelled masculine, like soap, cigar, and faintly of whiskey. She buried her face against his neck and kissed it, teased his skin with her tongue, hoping she was doing everything right.

“Touch me, Hollin,” he pleaded. But she didn’t understand. She
was
touching him. His back, his neck. He raised himself up from her, took her hand and brought it to his erection.

“Ah,” he moaned and she let her fingers explore. It was much bigger than she had imagined. It was also long, thick and hard, and made her suddenly afraid.

She heard the sound of his belt buckle, the rasp of his zipper as he tugged it down, then kicked his jeans off. He wore paper thin, white boxers, which didn’t offer much in the way of protection. She could feel everything through the soft fabric.

Taking her hand, he pushed it beneath the waistband of his boxers and guided her fingers to wrap around him. He felt velvety smooth and hot and was surrounded by crisp hair.

“I want to fuck you so badly,” he said.

His words were like being hit in the face with a snowball. She jerked her hand away as if she’d been scalded, pushed at his hard chest. “Stop. Please stop.”

His breath was noisy, choppy, as he swore aloud. “Do you know how easy it would be for me to finish this?”

Fear mixed with anger knotted inside her. She shook her head.

“I could take you, right this minute, and you couldn’t do anything to stop me.” His voice was raw, hoarse and cold.

She swallowed back a lump in her throat as she forced herself to look up at him. His mouth was tight and grim. Releasing a lengthy sigh, he rolled to the side. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Only then did Hollin allow herself to breathe, but it was impossible to steady her erratic heartbeat.

“Hollin,” he said, and she detected a thawing in his tone. “Don’t you realize if you’d been with anyone else, he may not have stopped. You could have been raped.”

Turning her head to the side in shame, she stared at the wall. “I want to go home,” she said, whimpering.

“Look at me,” he said, ignoring her plea. “Please, look at me.”

She turned her head slowly in his direction.

“What I was about to do to you had nothing to do with love. Nothing that happened between us tonight had anything to do with love. Do you understand?”

She nodded reluctantly.

“No matter how many times you tell yourself you only let me touch you because you love me, it’s bullshit. I don’t want you to love me. I don’t need your love. When I fuck a woman, it’s about sex and feeling good. Nothing else.”

Hollin suddenly felt small, weak. Like a tiny child. She sniffed.

He swore again. “Dammit, Hollin. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”

She let the tears fall, not giving a damn whether she made him uncomfortable or not. The tears wouldn’t stop even if she tried, and she was soon sobbing.

Griffin folded her into his arms, kissed her cheek and forehead. “Please, you’re breaking my heart.”

She didn’t give two hoots about his heart after the way he’d crushed hers. She tried to jerk away from him, but he refused to let her go.

“Stop it!” he said, shaking her. “Calm down.”

“I hate you,” she whispered, refusing to look at him.

“Of course you do. But someday you’ll thank me for my brutal honesty.”

She was about to respond when there was a knock on the bedroom door. “Hey, Griffin, if you’re done with the jail bait, how about letting us have a turn with her.”

Griffin shot off the bed, wearing only his T-shirt and boxers and yanked the door open. Hollin couldn’t see who was outside the door, but she heard the commotion, heard the fist fight between Griffin and at least two other guys. Something glass crashed and broke, and then she heard him yell. “Get the hell out of here! Both of you.”

She quickly righted her clothing, wiped the tears from her face and hopped off the bed. By that time, Griffin was the only one standing in the hall. She barely caught sight of two boys she didn’t recognize running around the corner, desperate to get away.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” he said, bringing his knuckles to his mouth. “Fix your hair. I’m taking you home.”

#

Hollin clung tightly to Griffin, keeping her cheek pressed against his back as he cruised along the dark roads. It was the first time she’d been on a motorcycle. The ride should have been exhilarating, fun and a little scary. But Hollin felt none of those things. She was numb from all that had happened that evening. She simply felt nothing at all.

By the time he pulled into her drive, she was only too happy to be home. She didn’t bother to thank him for the ride as she swung her leg over the bike and got off. She tugged the helmet he’d insisted she wear off her head and handed it to him, careful not to look him in the eye. Then she turned and walked away.

“Hollin?”

She kept walking, wishing she would never have to see him again. By the time she reached the front porch, he roared away. Grateful that he was gone, she closed her eyes, leaned her weary body against the door and cried.

She’d never been so ashamed of herself. What had she been thinking? How could she have possibly thought she was in love with him? And how could she have been so stupid as to think he would love her back? A fifteen-year-old-girl.

Horrified that she’d almost let him make love to her, and without a condom, made her absolutely sick inside. A cold shiver spread through her as she remembered his words.
I don’t want you to love me. I don’t need your love. When I fuck a woman, it’s about sex and feeling good. Nothing else.

A good while later, she straightened her shoulders, wiped her tears with the backs of her hands and vowed to hate Griffin Wells for the rest of her life.

She was about to go inside when she realized she’d left her purse at the trailer. She had no keys, although she tried the door anyway. Locked.

No one was home except for Josephine, and no matter how loudly she knocked, or how many times she rang the bell, Josephine would never hear her. The woman slept with earplugs in, claiming her own snoring was so loud it sometimes woke her.

The back door was probably locked as well. Josephine was a real stickler for locking up the house at night. But Hollin decided to check it out, just in case.

She crept around the side of the house, the sounds of night putting her senses on alert. She was in her own yard, there was no reason to be afraid, yet she was tense, uneasy.

Finding the back door locked as well, she had no choice but to wait for Rachel to come home. She made her way over to the swimming pool and sat down on the concrete. She kicked off her sandals and dipped her feet into the cool water.

Tilting her head back, she gazed up at the stars. “Why does a broken heart have to hurt so much?” she asked silently. “And how long before I can put this night behind me?” She sat there, staring up at the starlit sky for quite some time. Her eyes were starting to burn with exhaustion, and she wished Rachel would come home soon.

Getting to her feet she strolled by the guesthouse, which she knew was also locked. After double checking, she sat down on the bench by the door and rested her eyes.

She must have dozed off, but she had no idea for how long. She yawned, and then she heard a noise. A crunching sound, like a shoe stepping on a twig or dry leaves. She listened for it again, but didn’t hear anything but the night sounds. Crickets, a train in the far distance, a dog barking from across the lake, and water lapping against the shore. Hollin decided it was nothing and stood, stretching.

Then she heard it again. She froze, listening for it again. She wondered if maybe Rachel had come home and had seen her dozing. It would be just like her sister to sneak up on Hollin and scare her. There was one way to find out. She’d simply check to see if Rachel’s car was in the garage.

Quietly, she crept toward the garage and was about to peer in the window, when someone grabbed her from behind. A scream erupted in her throat, but a large hand covered her mouth before it emerged.

She tried to fight him, but he was too big, too powerful. He shoved something in her mouth, a dirty rag, and it tasted horrible. And then he pushed her to the ground, on her stomach, smashing her face into the grass and dirt as he threw himself on top of her.

He bent her arms painfully around her back, held them at her waist with one hand. With his other hand he pushed her skirt up over her behind and tore her panties off, while she kicked and screamed and cried. While he was busy trying to get his zipper down, she managed to crawl and scoot on her belly and knees. She’d only gone a few inches when he lunged at her again. To punish her, he grabbed her by the hair, and rammed her face against the hard ground again and again. Then he elbowed her in the back, twice, knocking the wind out of her. Her face and head hurt so badly she could barely see straight, could barely find the strength to fight him anymore.

She told herself it was all a bad dream, that it wasn’t happening, and then he pushed his way inside her. He was rough, and just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, he withdrew. She cried with relief until she realized he was touching her butt, pressing a finger inside her anus.

“Nooooo!” she screamed into the rag, her protest no louder than a humming sound. And then he forced himself into her, tearing and ripping her insides until he finally ejaculated.

When it was over, he placed his mouth near her ear and whispered her name. “Hollin,” was all he said. Then a hand went to her throat, and she thought he was surely going to strangle her. But instead, he jerked the locket, the one her mother and stepfather had given her for her thirteenth birthday, from her neck, the chain snapping with a tiny clink.

Placing his hand on the back of her head, he pressed her face into the dirt and held it until she couldn’t breathe any longer. She blinked, silently begging him not to kill her, and then he released her, lifting his weight from her.

She took several lungfuls of air, noticing for the first time the sweet, cloying smell around her. Lilies. She was lying next to the patch of lilies that lined the garage wall.

She heard him rustling with his clothing as he restored himself, and caught sight of his shoes as he disappeared over the bank. Penny loafers. She also noticed his head was covered with something dark. A ski mask.

She lifted her head and yanked the rag from her mouth. She tried to get up on her elbows and knees, but couldn’t. She was too weak, in too much pain. She collapsed against the ground, facing the patch of lilies and the rich soil beneath them. A wave of nausea rolled through her and she vomited.

Then she passed out.

Rachel was the one who found her, hours later. She helped her into the house, and up the stairs. Rachel wanted to call the sheriff, but Hollin had begged her not to. She felt dirty, ashamed. She couldn’t bare the thought of being questioned, poked, prodded. Besides, she couldn’t identify anyone. It had all happened so fast, and yet while he was hurting her it seemed as if it had gone on forever.

Rachel bathed her, made her a cup of tea, which Hollin didn’t drink, and crawled into bed with her, promising they would figure it out in the morning.

The next day Rachel called Brad. He came home from school, cried when Rachel told him what happened. He sat with Hollin every night for a week until she fell asleep. They told Josephine that Hollin had slipped and fallen on the diving board, and assured the woman Hollin would be as good as new in a few days. Hollin couldn’t bear it if the woman blamed herself for what happened, for not keeping a better watch on her and Rachel.

But after a week went by, Hollin still didn’t have the strength or desire to get out of bed and realized she needed to talk to someone, to deal with what happened to her. And she wanted the bastard, whoever it was, to pay.

Rachel called the sheriff, and after combing the area by the garage, he found a pocketknife with the initials GW. Hollin had no choice but to tell him about the party at the trailer, and all the other humiliating details of that night. And then she had to tell her story again in court. By the time her case had gone to trial, she truly believed, without a shadow of doubt, that Griffin Wells was the one who had raped her.