Melt (9 page)

Her body still hurt from yesterday, though nowhere near as
much as it had last night. She kept flexible from Pilates and yoga, so she’d
bounced back pretty quickly. Not to mention she’d gotten big-time lucky that
her fall hadn’t been worse. But now it seemed like her luck had dried up.

On her trip back into the living room, she stared at the man
sulking silently on the couch. He was bare-chested, and his sandy hair stuck out
in twenty different directions. Then there were the twin bruises that shadowed
the entire left side of his face. She winced. His cheek must be throbbing.

“Do you want more ice?” she asked, not coming any closer
than the doorway. She wasn’t afraid of him for herself, not physically. Even in
the midst of freaking hand-to-hand combat, he’d eased her out of the way with
the care of a grizzly cradling a baby bird in his paw.

“No.” The ice pack sat in his lap, melting all over his
jeans. The splotch of wet ran all the way down one thigh, but he didn’t seem to
care. “I’m fine.”

She couldn’t take this tense silence between them anymore.
“You sure look fine.” She strode forward until their knees bumped and bent down
to grip his chin, turning his face toward the fireplace. She’d rekindled the
fire, and that was the only thing that chased the gloom out of the gray day.

He hadn’t wanted lights. Or medical attention. Or for her to
even stay. That pissed her off the most.

“You look like hell,” she said finally, hoping her voice
wasn’t trembling. She couldn’t be sure of anything at the moment. “You hit the
ground pretty hard.”

“I’m fine.”

“Justin—”

“Did I badger you when you went off half-cocked on a
snowmobile you had no clue how to ride and got into an accident? Did I lecture
you? No. I’d appreciate the same courtesy.”

She slapped her hands on her hips. “I was fully cocked,
thank you very much.” To her surprise, his lips twitched, though he didn’t meet
her gaze. “And I had a clue how to ride. Sort of. I’ve gone out a few times,
just not alone. I wasn’t thinking straight. But you were.”

“Was I?” His voice was so quiet she had to strain to hear
him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Wiping her suddenly damp palms on her freshly laundered
jeans from last night, she sat next to him. She made a show of tugging the
pretty plaid throw off the back of the couch. Once she’d wrapped herself in
fleece and the comforting scent of his soap and woodsy shampoo, she lifted her
eyebrows. “So tell me.”

“Just like that?”

“I told you about me and Rob.”

His mouth tightened. “He’s not going to leave you alone.
Especially when you call him and give him hope.”

Ah, so there was the source of some of his anger. She wasn’t
surprised that he didn’t like her phoning her ex. What did surprise her was how
vehement her objection to his displeasure was. “I called to let him know I was
all right. Despite what happened, we were together for years, and he was
worried. I owed him that much.”

“You owed him nothing,” Justin said in an undertone. “Absolutely
nothing. The guy strong-armed you into stuff you didn’t want to do, and when
that didn’t work, he cheated on you.”

“Do you think I’ve forgotten any of that?” she snapped. “I
can take care of myself, Justin. Really. The macho-man routine isn’t necessary.”

“You think I’m being macho?” He laughed and yanked on the
blanket, pulling the fleece over him too. “I know women can take care of
themselves. If they want to.”

She shifted to give him more of the throw and casually
tossed her leg over both of his. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders to
cuddle her close, which helped mitigate the flare of heat in her sore thigh.
Crouching over him while he pummeled into her hadn’t helped on that score
either. Not that she was complaining. She’d happily do it again in a heartbeat.

“I’m not a doormat.” She tucked her chilly fingers under the
waistband of his jeans to absorb his warmth. “Maybe I put up with things I
shouldn’t have. Maybe I shouldn’t have stuck around so long. But he never hit
me, I swear. Never even threatened to hit me. If he had,
I’d’ve
been gone.”

Justin was quiet for a long moment while he stared into the
fireplace across the room. “So that he made you do things you weren’t
comfortable with, that he forced his sexuality on you, that was okay? That’s
not a form of abuse?”

“It wasn’t what we were doing that bothered me.” She
swallowed hard and wished she had a mug of something hot to wrap her hands
around. Her gaze landed on the forgotten cups of cocoa they’d never finished,
and her stomach twisted. How had such a perfect day gone so wrong? “The idea of
sexual experimentation never bothered me. Changing things up is fine. I, uh,
have a good imagination.”

“Nice to know.”

“I think it was him I didn’t want, not what was happening. I
don’t know for sure. Doggy-style was about as inventive as I got with other
lovers.” She shrugged. “After a while it stopped being fun and I felt like I
was being judged. I wasn’t kinky enough to suit him, I guess.”

He rubbed the back of her knuckles. “You’re plenty kinky
enough to suit me.”

She choked out a laugh, surprised her chest felt too tight.
“Oh, I don’t know. I saw that drawer of yours…”

“What’s in that drawer never has to be part of us if you
don’t want it to be.” His dark blue gaze locked on hers. Such concern and affection
radiated there, she couldn’t have doubted him if she tried. “You’re more than
enough for me all your own.”

The tightness intensified. “You don’t really know who I am
yet, and vice versa. We haven’t spent much time together recently without pint
glasses or a TV screen between us. Time where we can just relax and be.”

“Easy enough to rectify that.” He shifted her legs on his
lap and fumbled around between the cushions until he unearthed the remote. Tapping
buttons, he grinned at her and aimed, landing on some sort of basketball
highlight show on digital cable. “TV’s on, but there’s nothing between us but
clothes.”

“Way too many.” She inched onto his lap carefully, since
they were both bruised and battered. Now that the rush of adrenaline had faded,
all her aches were coming back tenfold. “And actually, something else is
between us too.”

She dipped her head and captured his lower lip between her
teeth while she toyed with his growing erection. She loved that just her
nearness aroused him, that she affected him that much.

“I thought we needed to get to know each other better.
Verbally,” he added when she latched her mouth on to his scruffy jaw. His
thumbs teased the hollows of her stomach before slipping under the waistband of
her jeans. “God, your skin’s so soft.”

“Aloe
vera
lotion twice a day.”

“You rub that all over?”

“
Mmmhmm
. Even here.” She dragged
his hand lower and pressed it against her yearning center. “Right along the
crease of my legs…”

“No wonder you smell so damn good.” His knuckles brushed
against the seam of her jeans.

“Oh God. Shit, no way! Cornell lost?” Her moan ended with
her craning her neck to see the score, prompting him to laugh.

“Here, turn around.” He resettled her on his lap facing the
TV and nuzzled the crook between her neck and shoulder as she snuggled closer.
“Maybe I can concentrate more on talking if you don’t have your mouth on me.”

“You think?” She shifted until she could wiggle her ass
against his cock. “Lots of other ways to distract you.”

“Undoubtedly. But you wanted to talk.”

“Yeah.” She sighed and focused hard on the screen. Why was
she scared all of a sudden? Denying the sides of Justin’s nature she didn’t
want to know about wouldn’t make them go away. “Only for a little while. Then
we’ll have fun. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, after all. I hope you have something
we can scrounge up to make a decent meal.”

Something special. Thanksgiving was a family holiday, and if
she and Justin were standing in as each other’s, she wanted tonight and
tomorrow to be about more than fighting and mistrust and bruises.

Her body warmed as she glanced at the simmering fire and
remembered. Who was she kidding? She’d recall this day as much more than that.
It was also about the hottest lovemaking she’d ever experienced. The closest
connection she’d ever felt to another, even in the midst of something so wild
and primal her brain had gone on hiatus.

“I usually do frozen pizza, but since you’re here, we’ll
come up with something a little more appetizing.” He pressed his tongue against
the pulse point just below her ear, provoking a fierce throbbing between her
thighs.

God, she was primed for him. One touch, one look, and she
was ready to throw away her misgivings and play bucking bronco all over again.

“I’ll make mojitos and throw together some appetizers.” The
idea of staring at Justin in firelight as they fed each other finger foods
pleased her immeasurably. “Depending on what you have in the fridge and how
long the store’s open. You’ll let me borrow your truck?”

“Not sure I trust you around my stick after last night.”

She reached back to grasp his dick playfully. “Keep that
talk up and you and your stick will be awfully lonely tonight.”

He laughed and nibbled her neck. Every pull of his mouth
made her nipples tingle. “Honey, it’s snowing like a bitch out there. Think you
and I are inside for the duration.”

She twisted in his hold to peer out the narrow windows
behind the couch. All she saw was white. And more white. “Guess you’re right. I
hate driving in snow like this. Or even riding in it. I skidded once on the way
to work and nearly wrapped my Miata around a damn tree.”

“We’ll figure out something to eat from what I’ve got.” He
banded
his arm under her breasts. The subtle pressure of
his forearm tightened her nipples, and she heard the smile in his rumbled sigh
of contentment. “Pretty sure we can occupy ourselves here.”

“Yeah.” Kylie wet her lips and settled herself sideways on
his lap. She chanced another look at his beautiful face, barely resisting the
urge to kiss his battered eye. He didn’t want her fluttering; he’d made that
abundantly clear earlier. “So what happened out there? Are you going to tell
me?”

When he didn’t speak, she forced her heartbeat to slow. Last
thing she wanted was for him to think she was going to wig and get all female
on him. “I won’t ask a lot of questions, promise. Besides, I came clean about
what happened with me.”

“Tit for tat?”

“Something like that.” She glanced at the TV, absorbing the
long lists of scores rolling across the screen without comprehension.

His legs tensed beneath her, and he let out a long breath.
“I told you a bit about my stepdad. How he was a traveling salesman and spent a
lot of time on the road.”

“Yeah, like my dad with his trucking. Sort of.”

“No, not like your dad. He didn’t just act indifferent to
his family and send gifts home to make up for long absences. When Frank came
back from the road, my mother got the benefit of his fists, not the trinkets he
picked up in truck stops.”

She didn’t respond. No words came, and from the faraway look
in his eyes, she doubted he’d hear them anyway. Especially since he clearly
hadn’t finished his story.

“I was a toddler when he moved in with us. My own dad had
never been part of my life, and my mom was so grateful Frank wanted to adopt
me. For the first few years, if his abuse went beyond threats and insults, I
didn’t see it. Or I didn’t want to see it.”

Her stomach cramped with the knowledge of what he would say
next. “You were just a little boy.”

“Yeah, but I knew. I knew one day he wouldn’t stop with
calling her a bitch or a tramp. Then when it happened, when I found her in the
fetal position on the kitchen floor, she wouldn’t let me get help. I wasn’t
allowed to call the damn police and get the fucker out of our house.”

“How old were you?”

“Seven.” As if he was
reining
himself in, he lifted his hand and gently sculpted her cheek. The tenderness in
that single touch made her eyes fill with tears.

“How badly was she hurt?” she asked, fighting to keep the
emotion from her voice.

“Bruises mostly, a fractured rib. Cut lip. She just cleaned
up the blood, had me help her wrap bandages around her torso.” His tone turned
brittle. “Then she put on her best dress and waited on the living room couch,
because it was their anniversary, and he’d promised to take her to dinner at
Sloane’s Steakhouse.”

She covered the hand he’d dropped to the couch with her own.
“You understand she was a battered woman. The decisions she made in that state
don’t reflect on her as a person. She’d been victimized.”

“I heard all the labels.” His fingers lightly squeezed hers.
“The psychologist she took me to when I started acting out in school even gave
me a workbook. I colored all these pictures of perfect little saltbox houses
with picket fences and happy parents and kids. I was supposed to pretend I
really believed a broken home could be ‘healed.’” His disgust was palpable.
“It’s BS, Kylie. He never changed. Oh sure, he went to counseling, and he never
hit her again. That I saw, anyway. His rage went into hiding. But it was still
there. She wasn’t the only one who lived in fear of it coming back.”

A long moment passed before she could speak. “Are they still
together?”
Is that why you spend
Thanksgivings alone?

His lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. “Yes. They
have a beautiful ranch on the outskirts of town. They breed German shepherds,
and she quilts. He has a good job, and they’re the picture of a stable, loving
home.”

“But you don’t buy it.”

“No. She cries sometimes when I call, and she’s too quiet
other times.” He paused and shifted his legs, his gaze drifting to the
play-by-play on the TV, though she knew he wasn’t seeing it. “Sometimes I
wonder if it’s me. If along the way, he stopped being the problem, and now I’m
the one who makes her sad. I’m a living, breathing reminder of when her husband
beat her.”